Divided Heart

Chapter 1

The sterile, over-air-conditioned airline lounge was an absolute contrast to the electric energy Amara had just left behind in Los Angeles. Her eyelids, heavy with exhaustion, fought to stay open as she nursed a lukewarm coffee. The aftertaste of tequila and the distant thrum of baseline still lingered in her system, a testament to the night's festivities. Last night had been nothing but a movie.

A flight attendant's life was a whirlwind of glamorous layovers, friendly faces, and the occasional unruly passenger. Amara embraced the daily chaos. The job fed her wanderlust, and the paycheck was more than decent. But beneath the carefree exterior was a young woman yearning for something deeper, something more substantial than fleeting connections.

Her eyes roamed the crowds of people, travelers going to their destinations. A noise ripped through the air catching Amara's attention. There, in a corner booth, sat Connie, her ride-or-die best friend, deep in conversation with a man whose laugh was loud enough to compete with the airport's PA system. Amara rolled her eyes affectionately. Connie had a knack for finding trouble, or at least the illusion of it.

A glance at her apple watch told her they had plenty of time before boarding, and a message. A text from Cameron, her longest-standing partner, a simple "Safe flight beautiful." A smile tugged at her lips. He had a knack for knowing exactly what she needed, even from a distance. She replied with a kissing emoji and decided to grab another coffee, maybe even a questionable breakfast pastry. It wasn't the breakfast of champions, but probably the only thing she'd eat until the evening.

Boarding was a blur of hurried footsteps and murmured complaints. Amara navigated around the passengers in the aisles with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the cabin for potential flaws and those needing her assistance. She smiled upon the faces already in their seats. Then, in the last row of first class, sat a man who made Amara's insides tingle: Artist James.

He was a study in contrasts - the sharp lines of his tailored suit against the soft waves of his dark hair, the austere efficiency of a corporate titan juxtaposed with an undeniable allure. Amara had seen him countless times, yet each encounter was a fresh spark. There was an intensity in his gaze, a quiet magnetism that drew her in. It was a dangerous attraction, a siren song that tempted her to explore waters she knew to be treacherous.

"Amara, my favorite flight attendant," Artist greeted her with a warm smile, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. His eyes, a rich, mahogany brown, held a playful spark.

Amara returned the smile, a practiced maneuver that masked the flutter in her stomach.

"Mr. James," she replied, her tone light and professional. The familiar script was easy to follow, a shield against the growing attraction she felt.

"Please, call me Artist," he insisted, his voice low and inviting. A shiver ran down Amara's spine. There was something intoxicating about his confidence, a magnetic pull that was both alluring and intimidating.

She hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before nodding. "Okay, Artist."

Their conversation flowed easily, a well-rehearsed dance of polite banter. But beneath the surface, a current of something more was stirring. Amara caught herself staring at his lips, imagining the feel of his touch. A dangerous game, she knew, but the thrill of it was intoxicating.

Just then, Connie, ever the disruptor, squeezed Amara's arm. "Earth to Amara," she whispered, grinning. "Snap out of it. We need to get ALL of the passengers situated."

Amara blushed, her heart pounding. "Shut up, Connie," she hissed, trying to regain her composure.

"You're such a mess," Connie teased. "Is it the suit, or the eyes, or maybe it's the way he smells?"

Amara rolled her eyes, but a small smile crept onto her face. "It's the mystery," she admitted.

"Mhm, I'm telling Cameron," Connie scoffed playfully. "You're just looking for a distraction. From what, is what I'd like to know."

Amara considered this. Maybe Connie was right. But as she looked back at Artist, she wasn't so sure. There was something different about him, something that intrigued her on a deeper level. The crew settled in shortly after and the plane was ready for take off. Six hours in the air could feel like a lifetime but the flight attendants always knew how to pass the time while staying alert. They socialized.

So, Teddy's actually moving to New York?" Connie asked, as they prepared the cart for refreshments.

"Moving? I said he has an interview for a sous chef position downtown. Chill Con."

"Well either way that's amazing! I'm so happy for him." Connie gave her arm a light squeeze.

"Me too. I'm excited to see him, but it's also kind of weird."

Connie's eyebrow lifted and tilted her head. Amara didn't seem thrilled at the idea of Teddy being closer, she seemed hesitant.

"I don't know. It's like, we've been doing this long-distance situation-ship then what if he moves here. He knows Cam and I are in a poly-relationship but I'm not sure if he's ready for that."

"You think you'll he'll be turned off, now that he can experience it up close?"

"I just don't want him to run away before he knows what it's like."

"Well, you can't stop him from feeling Mar. Besides, the conversation hasn't even come up yet. You're jumping the gun."

"I guess you're right. I'm just a little anxious." Amara confessed.

"You'll figure it out. You always do."

As the plane began its descent, Amara found herself drawn to the window. Sunlight streamed through the airplane window, casting a warm glow on Amara's face. She was lulled into a state of peaceful contemplation, the rhythmic hum of the engines a soothing lullaby. Her gaze drifted towards the vast expanse below, a patchwork quilt of green and brown stitched together with ribbons of silver. A distant cough from the cabin pulled her out the trance.

Her eyes shifted and landed on the man in the aisle seat a few rows ahead. Artist. She glanced back at him, his caramel skin was one with the glow of the sun streaming in. There was something about him, a quiet intensity that set him apart. As the plane tilted, their eyes met for a brief, electric moment. A spark ignited between them, undeniably magnetic. Amara and Artist exchanged a bashful smile before turning away.

The plane touched down with a gentle thud, and Amara stood up, stretching her cramped limbs. A surge of excitement pulsed through her as she thought about seeing Teddy. He was always a breath of fresh air. Their visits were rare but always memorable. But as she made her farewells to passengers leaving the plane, her mind lingered on Artist.

His collected demeanor was in stark contrast to the free-spirited life she lived. There was a pull to him, a magnetic force that was growing stronger with each passing moment. A part of her wanted to linger, to find a way to spend more time with him. Amara collected her belongings, her mind still buzzing with the energy of the flight. As she made her way off the tarmac, she spotted Artist ahead of her. Taking a deep breath, she quickened her pace.

Well, this is it," she said, catching up to him. "Another flight down."

Artist turned, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's always too short," he replied.

Their eyes met, and for a brief, intoxicating moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, with a playful wink, Amara continued her way.

"See you next time, Artist."

As she walked away, she couldn't shake the hold he had over her. In those brief moments when their eyes were locked, nothing else mattered. Mentally kicking herself, she pushed that train of thought to the side. Duty called, and Teddy was waiting. With a sigh, she turned away, her heart caught between the familiar and the unknown of Artist.