Summertime & Butterflies

Twenty-Six

To say she felt out-of-place ascending the stairs to the private jet taking the Los Angeles lot to London would be an understatement. The only time Olivia had been even close to being in a private jet wasn't close at all. Her mother insisted she take a helicopter ride with her at the yearly town fair a year or two prior. It was small, shaky and fifteen minutes of hell, the worst trip of her life – even worse than the flight she met Harry on. Throwing up was never her end goal, but at least on the helicopter and commercial flights, the upholstery was nothing to write home about. The buttery, white leather seats of the private plane would surely show any stain of any bodily fluid she emitted.

"Wow... this is super nice," Olivia whispered to Harry as she followed him into the cabin. He turned to look at her, a sheepish grin on his face.

"It's kind of a bit much, but Jeff said it made the most sense to get all of us to London together," Harry explained with a shrug. "I don't really mind commercial flights... Met this girl on one once. Turned out all right," he teased, reaching for Olivia's hand.

Olivia snickered and squeezed his hand. "Just all right, eh?" she teased back, reminding herself not to ask why Jeff was making financial decisions for Harry. She'd warmed up to Jeff after Harry's accident, but he would never be one of her favourite people. He was textbook spoiled rich kid, and those weren't Olivia's people. It was something she intended on keeping to herself – it was bad enough she didn't get on with Harry's sister, she didn't need him in between her and Jeff.

"Eh..." Harry shrugged before turning to face Olivia, taking her purse from her and discarding it on one of the ten seats in the cabin. "Maybe better than all right," he murmured to her, nuzzling his lips on hers.

Smiling against his lips, Olivia reciprocated the kiss. "Maybe," she agreed, feeling a nudge behind her. She broke from Harry and turned, meeting Glenne's grinning face.

"Get a room," she told the couple playfully. "Or a tiny plane bathroom," she added with a teasing shrug.

"We would if you weren't here," Harry grumbled, his smirk telling Glenne he was kidding. "Ol' Cockblock Christiaansen herself," he added with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"Never stopped you before," Jeff piped up, coming up behind Glenne. "Remember Mexico?"

"And New York," added Glenne.

Olivia's face warmed. Once sober, Olivia didn't like that Harry's friends had heard them getting it on, though Drunk Olivia thought it was a massive turn on. She looked at Harry, seeing the red hue creep up his neck. Sober and Drunk Harry felt the same ways she did.

"Fuck off," Harry told his friends, slipping into the window seat before tugging on Olivia's arm to join him. A table sat in front of them, with two more chairs on the other side. Two single chairs were across the aisle, and four more sat closer to the cockpit. The chairs were about twice the size of the standard airline seats, which would make the eleven hour journey to London even more comfortable. And while the cabin was far from private, there was a small room between the main cabin and the restroom, featuring a sofa, a couple of chairs and – most importantly – a locking door.

Jeff laughed loudly, sliding into the seat across from Harry. "You keep us up all night, we have the right to bug," he told Harry, looking to Glenne for confirmation as she sat across from Olivia.

"It's true," Glenne replied. "Except, we don't want to bug Liv. Just you," she corrected, offering Olivia a reassuring smile. She'd wondered it before, she'd wonder it again, but Olivia couldn't fathom why someone as kind as Glenne was with a putz like Jeff. Olivia almost let her question slip once, in Mexico, but luckily she'd found a bit of decorum amongst the tequila and kept her question to herself.