My lover is my boss (LingOrm)

11 - Plane to Bangkok

On the plane back to Bangkok, I huddled deeper into my hoodie, pulling the fabric tighter around me as the cool cabin air washed over my skin. The hoodie, oversized and comforting, was my shield against the slight chill, but it also served as a barrier between me and the growing uncertainty I felt about everything that had unfolded over the past few days. The flight was peaceful, the gentle hum of the plane's engines lulling everyone into a state of relaxation. Most of the passengers were either asleep or quietly absorbed in their own world, and I, too, closed my eyes, trying to tune out the buzz in my head.

Ling sat beside me, her presence as calm as ever. I could feel the slight movements of her shifting in her seat, but I tried not to focus on her. It was hard, though, considering everything that had happened—the moments, the teasing, the undeniable tension. Still, I forced myself to relax, focusing on the steady rhythm of my breathing.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt her hand slip into mine. My eyes snapped open, startled by the gentle touch. I glanced down to see her fingers lacing with mine, her warmth immediately spreading through me, counteracting the cold I had been trying to shield myself from. The simple gesture sent my heart racing in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"What if they see?" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath as I glanced around the cabin nervously. No one seemed to be paying attention, but still, the idea of being caught holding hands with my boss had my nerves on edge.

Ling, of course, was unfazed. With a sly smile, she took our intertwined hands and slipped them into the pocket of my hoodie, the fabric covering any trace of our connection. "Just pretend we aren't holding hands," she whispered back, her voice low and teasing, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

She then turned to the side, settling into her seat, and closed her eyes as if nothing had happened. It was typical Ling—calm, collected, and always in control.

Meanwhile, I was left wide-eyed, staring ahead, feeling her hand gently squeeze mine within the safety of my hoodie pocket. Her touch was warm, grounding, and without thinking, I squeezed back. The connection between us felt different, deeper. I tried to close my eyes, to relax, but it was impossible not to feel the intensity of the moment. Her warmth seeped into me, and despite the lingering nerves, I eventually let the comfort of the situation pull me into a light sleep.

...

When we landed in Bangkok, the usual chaos of disembarking took over—people scrambling to grab their bags from the overhead bins, the sound of phones dinging as passengers connected to the local network. Ling and I exchanged nothing more than a polite nod as we moved through the motions, returning to a professional demeanor. The tension from earlier, the hidden intimacy of our hands clasped together, lingered just beneath the surface, but we kept it unspoken.

Once we passed through customs and collected our luggage, I headed toward the exit, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. But just as I was about to step outside into the muggy Bangkok air, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Ling.

"Want a ride, or is your 'strong arms' dude giving you a lift?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the text, the image of Bright and his endless boasting about his "strong arms" flashing through my mind. It was a playful jab from her, but I welcomed it.

I quickly typed back, "If you can be faster than him, I'll go with you."

No sooner had I sent the message than I heard the sound of a car pulling up beside me. I looked up to see a sleek black car parked at the curb, and through the lowered window, Ling grinned at me from the driver's seat.

"Let's go?" she asked, her smile confident and teasing as always.

I laughed, shaking my head in amazement at her timing. "That was fast," I said, hoisting my bags into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of her perfume filled the car, and as I settled into the seat, I felt that same quiet buzz from the flight return—the unspoken tension that seemed to follow us wherever we went.

Ling glanced over at me, her smirk never fading. "What can I say? I'm efficient."

She pulled away from the curb, the city lights reflecting off the sleek surface of the car as we drove through the busy streets of Bangkok. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, the kind of tension that had been building for weeks now.

After a few moments of silence, Ling glanced over at me, her eyes glinting with mischief. "So, what about a pre-ride payment?"

I furrowed my brows, confused. "A what?"

She smirked, leaning in just slightly. "A kiss."

I felt my face heat up at her boldness. Typical Ling, always pushing the boundaries, always making me flustered. "Later," I said, glancing around at the bustling street outside the car. "They can see us here."

Ling let out a small huff, clearly dissatisfied with my answer but not pushing the issue. "Hm," she complained under her breath before focusing back on the road. I smiled to myself, knowing she wasn't really upset.

...

Before long, we pulled up to my apartment building. Ling slowed the car to a stop, parking right in front of the entrance. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound between us for a moment before Ling turned to me, her expression serious but playful.

"I want my kiss," she demanded, leaning in just slightly, her eyes narrowing as she focused on my lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool, but internally, I was already imagining it—the warmth of her lips, the softness of her kiss. I had been wanting to kiss her again since we left the airport, and now that we were alone, it felt almost impossible to resist.

Without saying another word, I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and kissed her. The moment our lips met, I felt that familiar rush, the heat that had been building between us finally finding release. She responded immediately, her hand slipping behind my neck as she deepened the kiss, pressing me back against the seat.

I felt my head tilt slightly as the kiss grew more intense, her lips moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own. But just as quickly, I placed my hand on her chest and gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss.

"No," I murmured, catching my breath. "Let me go to my apartment."

Ling pulled back, though her eyes still glinted with that playful, teasing light. "Fine," she said, sighing dramatically. "See you on Sunday?"

I blinked, surprised. "Sunday?"

"Our date," she replied, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. Of course, she had to ask me out in that casual, effortless way that made it seem like no big deal—even though it was.

I groaned, laughing under my breath. "Urgh, I hate your funny self."

"Liar," Ling shot back, grinning. "You only kiss me when I'm funny."

I shook my head, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face. "Fine," I said, pushing open the car door. "Bye." I grabbed my bag from the trunk, the weight of her kiss still lingering on my lips as I made my way inside.

As I closed the door behind me, the excitement of our growing connection filled my mind. Sunday couldn't come fast enough.