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Chapter 17 - Flyaway

Dinner went smoothly last night, not too many questions were asked that I couldn't quickly form a fake response to. Noah's parents being the delightful hosts they are treated me like one of their own and I couldn't have asked for a better evening. I feel terrible though. Lying to this wonderful family who has taken me in. Lying to Noah.

I look out of the window; the trees skeletons of their normal leafy selves, the sun is just peeping between the clouds creating a smile on my face and outshining the demons on my shoulders.

I jump out of bed, pulling the covers back and fixing my hair into a messy bun, I feel refreshed and relaxed. I then look in the longer mirror to check that I look decent enough to go downstairs. I decide to put my black wrap cardigan on, I pull it over my arms covering up my black cami top and grey shorts.

I open the door to my room and make my way down the stairs to the kitchen, once I'm there I see Mike sitting at the dining table his eyes trained on a newspaper and Julie cooking some eggs on the stove, Noah is nowhere to be seen so I suppose he still must be in bed. It is Saturday after all. I feel awkward; like I don't know what to do so I just stand there in front of the dining table looking and feeling like a lemon or a sore thumb sticking out where it doesn't belong.

"Gracie, don't just stand there," Mike says peering over the top of his newspaper, "sit down and take a load off."

Hesitantly I smile and pull the dining chair out, sitting down gently like it is the most fragile thing in the world, "did you sleep well?" Mike asks.

"Very well thank you," I reply looking over at Julie flipping the eggs with precision.

"Wow, you must really want them eggs," Noah says as he pulls a chair out beside me, making me jump at his sudden presence.

It takes me a moment to realise that he is fully dressed; a crisp white shirt and black formal trousers, I nearly have to do a double take for a moment because I get that weird butterfly thing in my stomach. Oh lord please help me. "Well I'm not going to lie but I am pretty hungry," I confess.

He shifts in his seat, eyeing me in my PJs as I pull my black wrap around me self consciously, "well you better eat up because we're heading to the airfield."

Why does he want me at the airfield ? I can't fly a plane, I know absolutely nothing about aviation. I mean sure I've flown all the way around the world, I went to Australia when I was three years old! I love to fly but I know nothing about the technical side of things. What am I supposed to do? What if I am recognised?

"Okay," I simply reply, looking down at my lap.

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The airfield consists of a long tarmac strip, only small planes fly out of here; not the big ones that fly internationally. It is beautiful here though. The scenery; the runway surrounded by a slight mountain range, the sky a bright blue.

I'm standing leaning on the doorframe of the hanger, one of five to be precise. The hanger where Noah and Mike store their plane. After I finished breakfast I was quickly ushered upstairs by Noah who practically carried me to my room by lifting me up from under my armpits. He then pushed me into the en suite where I took a shower and picked out todays outfit which consisted of; a faded grey t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, blue and white flannel shirt which is tied around my waist, leather jacket and black boots. I felt hopelessly underdressed next to Noah and Mike who looked incredibly formal.

"Gracie," Noah calls as I'm taking some pictures on my camera of the airfield, "c'mere."

I put the lens cap back on and walk in his direction, he's covered in oil, his shirt is stained in multiple places even his face is covered in blotches.