The Bet | Ethma

5

Emma gripped the seat so hard her fingers were numb. What the heck? Why were they taking so long getting the plane ready? If her forehead was pressed any tighter to the window, the glass would break.

"So, not afraid of flying anymore, hmm?" Grayson's breath tickled her ear as he pushed his body next to hers. "Liar." His deep voice caused fluttering in her stomach. She refused to turn and look at his perfectly chiseled face. Damn him.

"How do we know they're really doing their jobs? I mean, if checking the plane is so important, why are they all smiling?"

Grayson's warm hand cupped her chin forcefully, pulling her away from her stakeout. "People smile, Emma, and a happy worker is a good worker. Maybe he's just really excited about his job."

"Or our deaths...," Emma mumbled to herself. Seriously! Her eyes scanned the rest of the passengers. All of them reading or talking. Why weren't they on the lookout? I mean, as an American, it's your job — nay, your duty — to look for suspicious characters. Her eyes darted around the small plane, landing finally on a large man who seemed to be talking into his jacket.

"Holy Hell." Emma grabbed Grayson's hand. "That man is talking into his jacket. Do you know what that means?"

"He's insane?" Grayson offered. "Like my fake fiancée? Seriously, Em, if you can't calm down I'm going to drug you again, and it's not going to be Benadryl..."

"Fine." Emma leaned back and tried to relax, but the minute she closed her eyes she remembered she was still holding Grayson's hand, and he was holding hers back.

Oh crap. It was like sixth grade skate night all over again.

Only worse, because this time the song didn't end. It was a forty-five minute plane ride, and she had started the whole thing holding his hand. What could he possibly think of her?

Grayson's thumb rubbed across her fingers delicately.

Another involuntary shiver ran down her spine. It's not real, Emma. Just remember it's not real. He doesn't really like you in that way. Do it for Grandma!

The plane began to taxi and the pressure of Grayson's hand increased just as her palm pushed into his. If the man had any feeling left in his arm at all, she would be shocked.

"Emma?" he whispered, again dangerously close to her face.

"Hmm?" She refused to open her eyes.

"Let's make out."

"What!" Emma's eyes flashed open to see the mocking grin on Grayson's face. "You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious. The way I see it, we need to have some chemistry before we get to Portland. Also, the way you're going, they're going to have to saw off my arm because of blood loss. So really, you're doing me a favor all around."

Emma's eyes squinted. "You're too good-looking."

"Wow, nice change of subject. Thank you, but not where I was going with that."

Emma closed her eyes again and cursed her smart best friend who had warned her of such things happening. Of course Grayson had something else up his sleeve; she just didn't think it would include him making out with her on an airplane.

Not that it sounded completely horrible or anything.

"We made out in L.A.," he said still holding her hand.

"Oh, you dirty little liar!" Emma laughed and pushed his hand away. "You made out with me, and after a while I participated."

"Your tongue down my throat the minute we took off wasn't participating?"