The Notorious R(uth) B(arakat) G(rimaldi)

Chapter 43: The Big Trip

Elliott sat a few rows behind Ruthie on the plane for the trip to New York. He told himself it was just a coincidence where he sat, but he knew he'd boarded ahead of her on purpose, just so he could. Because of his height, he could tip his head up a little, and see the top of her curly head a few rows up. She was wearing a bright yellow sweatshirt that said, "I'm not short, I'm just fun-sized," which he'd seen her wear a dozen times. The color really suited her, as did the saying. She wasn't particularly short, but she gave the impression of being a little thing, a dynamo of expressions and entertainment.

That was how Elliott saw her, anyway.

He noticed that Joanna Barnes, she of the tight sweaters and short skirts, had somehow finagled the seat next to him, while another girl whose name he couldn't quite remember was sitting across the aisle from him. God, this was going to be a long plane ride.

He remembered the last time he'd been on a plane, flying to California from England, so full of sorrow and hate, feeling so sorry for himself.

Things were better now, he told himself. He no longer harbored the deep-rooted feelings he'd held toward Samairah all those years; quite the opposite, in fact. And, even after just those few short days together, he found he actually missed little Liam and his cute baby ways. And he had Ruthie--

Except he didn't, did he? He'd brought that shit storm on himself, he knew, but he also knew he was right. Maybe if they'd met when they were older, or at least when both were where they wanted to be.

But he, Elliott, had a life in England. This sojourn to California had been against his will, a brief, unplanned and unwanted interlude to this cultural wasteland. He needed to get back on track. Ruthie, on the other hand, had another year here, then four years of school somewhere that wasn't England.

They had no future together. Not now, at least.

And how could it matter? He, Elliott, was only eighteen, it wasn't possible that he'd met his life partner already. And it definitely wasn't possible that said life partner was a mere girl, a loud, emotional and immature fifteen year old child who cried at the drop of a hat and flew off the handle at least once a day.

Was it?

The announcement to buckle up and prepare for take off came over the speakers, and he heard Ruthie's squeal of excitement. He could see her hair bouncing up and down as she turned to the person next to her. He could even see her face between the seats, her opal eyes huge, her smile contagious.

He was pulled down into his seat by Joanna, who grasped his arm firmly.

"I hope you don't mind," she said with a titter. "Flying makes me so nervous. I'm glad you're here for moral support."

Elliott sighed. He was sure that explaining the mechanics of flight wouldn't help the loud girl next to him.

He wondered how it could be that being around Ruthie, who was at least as loud as Joanna, was so much fun, while sitting next to Joanna was such a chore. He shifted away from her and into the aisle a little.

"I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, Elliott," the girl across the aisle chatted. "You're just about the hottest guy in the whole school, you don't even know how happy I was when I saw you. And your accent!" The girl's voice went up in pitch, nearly taking his ear off. "Could you say something? Has anyone ever told you you look like Timothée Chalamet? And Douglas Boothe? Like if one of them was a girl, and they had a baby, that baby would be you."

Oh my god.

Now the girl had turned to the girl next to her. "Don't you think, Paige? Don't you think Elliott looks like a totally hot Timothée Chalamet and Douglas Boothe combined?"