Baking With Boys |✔

20. Tiramisu Pie

"Francis, can you pass me the water bottle?" Bea batted her eyelashes at Francis and displayed her perfectly aligned thirty-two teeth.

"Oui, miss," Francis said in a charming tone, passing the bottle to her.

Their hands touched ever so slightly and Bea giggled. It was corny and cheesy enough to make me uncomfortable in my seat and I shifted a little to help with the blood circulation at least. Bea passed the bottle back to him, and it made me feel like a pissed-off third wheel as they continued on with their slapstick romance. Exasperated, I looked out of the window and tried hard to ignore them. Though, it was next to impossible considering both of them sat on either side of me. It had already been ten hours since we had boarded the flight and they were still going on with their flirting.

I envied Roger, Francis' partner for the show, who had the luck to get the single seat in front of us. His big frame was sprawled upon the seat and he was in deep sleep with no 'lovebirds' to disturb him. It was even funnier and absurd when I thought that all this was happening because I had agreed to help Francis break up with Bella. The plan had backfired, alright, but his casual attitude as he enjoyed the flight with a girl way younger than him had me in a twist.

"Francis, how was the cooking school you studied at back in Paris?" Bea flipped her hair to one side and leaned forward. It was like I didn't even exist between them. Nothing more than a wall of stone or stack of potatoes. It was my first time to see this side of Bea and I hated it so far.

"It was as sweet as you, pet." He grinned and I bit my cheek to stop myself from banging my head against the front seat.

"Really? I wish I could go to France one day! Is Eiffel Tower pretty?" Bea asked once again and that was it for me.

"I'm going to the washroom," I nearly shouted, and stood up abruptly. The food tray in front of me clattered as my knee collided with it and pain shot up my leg instantly. I jumped up and down, clutching my knee as I tried to relieve the pain, and both of them stared at me with their mouth open.

And I accomplished all this in three seconds.

"Are you alright, Tyler?" Bea whispered, and I let myself be grateful for her concern until she ruined it with her giggling.

"Move your legs," I demanded and pushed back Francis's legs to make space to move out.

Just as I brushed past him, the plane hit a slight turbulence. Taken aback, I stumbled but righted myself by grabbing the head of the seat. As soon as I regained my balance, it tilted again and this time I tripped to land directly on Francis' lap. His arms caught me around my waist to save me from any further fall and the emergency lights flickered on. Heat rushed up to my face at our awkward position and I hurried to scramble up to a standing position.

"Wait, Ty," he whispered and his hand reached out towards me and for a second my stomach clenched at his advancing hand. I relaxed when they took a different direction and worked on my hair caught in his sleeves' cuff button.

"Ouch," I groaned as I tried to pull away and only succeeded in making my scalp throb in pain. Half squatting and half standing there in an awkward position, I waited for Francis to remove my hair from his shirt. "Let me try."

I noticed a few people glancing my way as the lights switched on. And more curiously towards Francis's bent head below my neck. It's not what you think it is! It was clear how dirty everyone's minds were running when to my further embarrassment, the flight attendant (who could have been a supermodel for all his looks), gave me a forced smile and an all real glare.

"Can I help you with anything, miss?" His voice was coated with suppressed anger and I shook my head to get this over with. He looked down to Francis still working on my hair and back up at me. "Are you sure?"