Love At First Flight | BL ⚣

✈️ 22000 ft. ✈️

Four weeks.

What about the party? We confirm it. Étienne spoke to his friend who owns the nightclub about the celebration and everything is ready. In the coming days and weeks we will resolve everything correctly, about how we are going to do it, our main idea and organizing the invitations.

I can't wait to get this damn airline in order!

***

Three weeks.

There are three weeks left and everyone who is our friend has been invited. Alya is surprised when we talk about the unexpected party, but we don't tell her about it being a trap to catch the account owner.

Alya looks at us, I think she already suspects our intentions. Our alma mater isn't stupid; on the contrary, she is the most intelligent and experienced among us, after all the old woman is ex-PanAm.

"A birthday in Paris?" Alya asks, looking fixedly at me when I make the invitation. She leans against the aircraft door, ajar and ready to receive meals for the next flight.

"Yeah," I say, smiling and arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know..." she immediately hesitates. "I'm getting too old to stay up all night standing up, not to mention loud music. My spine can't handle it."

"You can't be ageist with yourself!" I protest, still trying to convince her. "If you can stand 14 hours standing from one side of the plane to the other, you can also handle a few hours dancing with us. Not to mention, there are more decibels in an airplane engine than at a party!"

"It's different," she responds with a muffled laugh. "You are electric young people, I am an almost 70-year-old lady who all she wants is silence and bed when work is done, but I will consider the invitation."

I don't like ageism, I will cheer until the end for Alya to go, would like to have her among us. It's okay, I understand if she doesn't want to go. Everything is shaping up so that she really won't go, but at least I invited her.

"Nori, if I don't go, have some sense, please."

"You would be our judgment, mami." I pout, sad to know that she might not go "It's okay, what can go wrong in Paris, huh?"

***

Two weeks.

"Nothing will go wrong," Hiyama says, while inviting Vincent van den Heuvel, chatting at a table before a flight. I'm next to them, quiet and getting suspicious looks.

He partially disagrees, looking between the two of us.

"I don't know, but I think I have a flight that day."

"You can talk to some colleague, let's ask old Blanchard to talk to Narita's HR." My boyfriend tries to persuade, but Vincent isn't so convinced.

"You know that the account will be keeping an eye on both of you, right?"

That's exactly the point.

Hiyama sips his pistachio coffee and grunts, satisfied.

"Perfectly aware, roger?" he says, taking my hand under the table. Strategic? Not even a little! "You can trust. It will just be a discreet birthday party, between friends."

"Discreet?" Vincent snickers, disagreeing with this term. "Are you sure that word is in your dictionary, Hiyama?"

***

One week.

"Yes," I confirm, making the invitation to him. "Don't worry, Rio, nothing will happen."