Butterflies in Row 19 ✔

Hour 5: Proper Date

Rosie

How do I breathe? I've forgotten and now I'm choking on air as I feel his eyes on me. He likes me. I like him. It's all out in the open.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

Okay Rosie, don't freak out. DON'T FREAK OUT.

I take in a deep breath as he turns to ask the flight attendant what meals they have. She hands him a menu he points at one thing, then at me, and then another thing for himself.

I stare at the tray that has been placed on my table and start to pull off the lid to have steam hit my face. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and some steamed veggies. There's a little cookie on the side, wrapped in plastic.

A smile stretches across my lips as I realize that he remembered my favorite food. Then, I feel his fingertips on my cheek, pulling my curtaining hair back and tucking it behind my ear. Slowly, he pulls out my earbud and leans closer.

"Let's just talk. I can't write on the notepad with this tray taking up my whole table," he whispers into my ear. I feel a tickling sensation rush through me and I shiver at the lack of space between us.

I turn to whisper into his ear, "And why do we have to talk if we're going to be stuffing our faces?"

"I don't know," he responds shyly, "I just thought it'd be nice if this were kinda like a first date."

We're face to face now, speaking a little more clearly. I raise my eyebrow at him, "We're both facing front, not at each other. Don't first dates require making googly eyes at each other?"

He shifts his body so that his side is now facing his tray and his entire front side of his torso faces me. "What do you think I'm doing right now?"

I bite back a smile as I do the same, "Okay, fine. So it's a date."

>>>15 minutes into the hour

"How do you like your food?" I feel his breath on my neck and it stirs something inside me.

"The chicken's a little soggy, but I like it," I answer with a mouth full of food.

He grins with food in his mouth and I realize how gross I must be just now. Oh, well. I'm just feeling that comfortable with him.

We go back to watching the show and he seems to be enjoying his meatloaf, from all the times I discreetly glance over. I catch him looking at me a lot, too, but it seems that this time he's more brazen, like he wants me to know that he likes to look at me.

"What," I ask him when I find him staring at me for a little too long.

"You really are pretty, Rosie."

I widen my eyes at him, and then shaking my head as I lower it. I take in another spoon of mashed potatoes as I look back at the screen.

>>>Halfway through the hour

I try not to spit out my last bite of food as he shoves two long pieces of carrots under his upper lip to make them look like fangs.

"It just looks like you really need to brush your fangs," I point out between giggles.

"I do?" His carrots fall out of his mouth.

We laugh until the couple in front of us glare back at us. After the flight attendant takes back the trays, he pulls his notepad out and starts scribbling on the page.

J: When was the last time you went on a date?

R: Hmm... maybe 2 years ago? Why?

J: I'm just wondering why you'd be so rude to tell me I'd need to brush my fangs. They're beautifully orange.

R: HAH Please. They make you look like you've been eating cheetos for a century, and neglecting dentists' orders.

J: Maybe I have. Don't judge me for my extravagant lifestyle...

R: Ew...

J: I thought you liked me D:

R: Maybe if you had clean teeth...

J: FINE. I need to use the bathroom anyway.

I watch with a smile as he stands up and walks to the bathroom behind us. It's quite nice to sit in the very back row.

>>>45 minutes into the hour

Lifting myself up onto my palms, I scan the entire aisle for several minutes, searching for a flight attendant. They're all behind the curtain up front. The entire section is dark, and it seems that no one is awake. I stand, walking over to the little pulling door of the lavatory. I bite my lower lip, anticipating on doing something I've been aching to do this entire time.

I don't need to use the bathroom.

I'm not standing here for the bathroom.

I watch as Jackson pulls open the door and widens his eyes. His eyebrows raised, he drops his jaw at the sight of me, and it almost makes me blush. I glance over to the front again, to see if any flight attendants can see us.

Then, ever so slightly, I press my fingers on his chest, pushing him back in. I step in with him, closing the door behind me.

I can almost hear his heart beating hard and fast as we stand inches away from each other. Or maybe it's just mine that's frantically pumping red hot adrenaline.

"What..." He sounds out of breath as his eyes meet mine.

"Every proper date has a goodnight kiss," I whisper.