• BURN ME •

• 12 •

OK
~ 8 Graves, AViVA

Snow

I'm wrenched awake by the sterile, electronic voice announcing our arrival at the airport. Blinking against the cabin lights, I try to move my head, but a deadweight anchors me down. Disoriented, I glance around, vision swimming until it focuses on the red-haired mass draped over me. Flame's head, heavy, rests squarely on my shoulder, his arm a solid bar across my chest. God, he's heavy. It's still surreal, the fact that he's talking to me. And admitting, almost bragging, about slapping my ass. I nudge him gently, then harder, trying to rouse him. It takes a few increasingly insistent shakes, and finally, a low groan rumbles from his chest, a dark, resonant sound that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. Shit, that sound was really hot. His tired gaze blinks open, unfocused, before settling on me. I meet his heavy-lidded stare, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "Could you maybe...?" I ask. He seems to understand, finally lifting his weight, disentangling himself. "Thanks," I murmur, rubbing the stiffness from my neck. "We're on approach." I explain, a simple statement of fact. He nods, a small, almost imperceptible movement, and rubs a hand across his face, trying to shake off the sleep. The plane lurches again, a sudden, sickening drop in altitude, and my stomach clenches, a familiar knot of fear tightening in my chest. I freeze, muscles locking up, every nerve ending screaming. Fuck, airplanes are not my thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flame watching me, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Then, slowly, deliberately, he offers his hand again, just like he did during takeoff. I hesitate for a beat, then take it, my fingers closing around his, the warmth of his skin a surprising anchor. I avoid his eyes, focusing on my feet, planted firmly on the cabin floor, grounding myself, trying to breathe. "It's normal to be scared, Snowflake."

"Airplanes are safer than cars," he murmurs, his voice low, a deliberate distraction. "Probability of a car accident is way higher." Why is he telling me this? I manage a small nod, acknowledging his effort, however futile. "If you're trying to distract me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "it's not going to work." He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "How do you know it won't work?" Does he actually want to argue about this now? Mid-air, hurtling towards the ground? "Listen," I say, my voice sharper than intended, laced with frayed nerves. "I just know myself, okay? It's never worked before." He nods again, slowly, thoughtfully. "But... seems like it's working this time," he says, his voice softening, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Because," he adds, a subtle shift in his posture, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "We landed." A slight bump, barely perceptible, then a gentle deceleration, the roar of the engines fading to a lower hum. I glance out the window, disbelieving. We're actually on the ground. Grounded. Safe. Confused, I look back at him, my fear slowly receding, replaced by a strange mix of relief and... something else. He grins, a genuine smile this time, lighting up his face, revealing those perfect teeth, those distracting dimples. "Then," I say, forcing a lighter tone, pushing down the sudden rush of heat, the confusing swirl of emotions. "Then we should probably... get out of here, right?"

We gather with the rest of the college group in the echoing expanse of the arrival hall. We stand together, a loose grouping of tired, slightly disoriented students, waiting for the professor to herd us towards our next destination. One of the professors, a woman with a perpetually harried expression, clears her throat, her voice amplified by the cavernous space. "Okay, everyone, listen up. I know you're all eager to... disperse." She says the word with thinly veiled disapproval. "But we, as a complete group, are going to proceed directly to the hotel. We'll get checked in, settle into our rooms, then meet back in the lobby for a brief... orientation. City tour, activity sign-ups, the usual. For the rest of the evening," she continues, her voice softening slightly, a hint of concession in her tone. "You'll have free time. Explore, relax, whatever. Just... be back at the hotel before midnight, please." Another professor, a man with a permanent air of distracted academic superiority, surveys the assembled group, his gaze sweeping over us like a disapproving headmaster. "Understood?" he demands, his voice clipped, authoritarian. Control freak. Sophia rolls her eyes, catching my gaze, and leans in, whispering conspiratorially. "This professor is so weird." Olivia, close enough to overhear, laughs softly, a muffled snort of amusement. "Totally. Control freak, majorly," she agrees, joining our whispered rebellion. I chuckle, a low sound, and heave my bag onto the luggage rack of the bus. I sigh, and slump into the empty seat beside Flame. He glances at me, a brief, sideways look, his expression unreadable. I offer a small, slightly rueful smile. "Seems like I'm not getting away from you anytime soon." One corner of his mouth quirks up, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. He actually grins, a brief flash of white teeth, those distracting dimples deepening again. Stop noticing his damn dimples. I press my lips together, suppressing the unwelcome flutter in my stomach. "Thanks," I murmur, the word barely audible. "For... distracting me on the plane. Guess I'm really... scared of flying." A grudging admission, a small crack in my carefully constructed wall of indifference. He nods slowly, acknowledging my vulnerability, but remains silent, letting the confession hang in the air between us.