the anatomy of love [BxB] COMPLETED

45

Jackson presses his arms against his sides, trying not to brush against his neighboring travelers. He swears he doesn't remember air planes as being this cramped, his legs curled in too tight and the seat itself narrow and bunched so that every movement of the person sitting next to him and behind him and in front of him can be felt.

Of course, Wes didn't splurge on first class seating, instead slumming it with the lowly economy seaters, like Jackson. They didn't even get seats next to each other. Sofia and a few other high ranked members of Connelly Enterprises made up most of economy's front seats with an inch more leg room. Since Jackson was no longer a member and also was not well liked by Sofia, he was demoted a few rows behind Wes, stuck in the middle seat, of course.

"I'm sorry," whispers the lady sitting in the window seat next to him. "I need to go to the bathroom." Jackson nods politely, biting back the snide comment of how this would be the fifth bathroom break. He's starting to suspect she's doing more than just relieving herself.

Wes does not look back at him. Not with Sofia sitting right next to him.

Maybe he shouldn't have suggested coming. Maybe he should have told Wes no.

It started off badly, as he knew it would when Wes agreed to pick him up at the field right after his practice. He barely finished showering when Wes texted him that he was in the parking lot. With his hair still wet and his cologne just a bit too strong, he jogged to where Wes said he was waiting.

Thinking back, Jackson doesn't remember what he was expecting. Wes, pulled up in his sleek Mercedes, winking at him to slide into the passenger seat like always? Whatever he had expected, it was not an Uber with Wes in the passenger seat, Sofia resolutely not acknowledging him in the back seat next to a high ranked consultant. He had to squeeze past them to the trunk and sit in the single seat in the corner.

It was miserable.

Still, he could tell Wes had noticed his hair, his shoulders tense and the hand resting on his leg quivering imperceptibly, like it wanted to reach out and touch the strands framing Jackson's face.

But that would have to wait for later, and they both knew that.

Now Jackson just prayed this flight landed soon. It's a short flight from Portland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington. A flight commonly used for business. They weren't the only ones in suits and tight pencil skirts.

Just when he was sure he could not handle another second sandwiched like a sardine in mid air completely ignored by Wes and company, the plane began its descent, and soon enough they landed with a good rattle and screech that always managed to snatch Jackson's breath away.

He lingers behind the group, not wanting to impose and make a fool of himself and Wes in front of everyone. Jackson recognizes a few of the other members joining them on the trip, but not well enough for more than chit chat. While Sofia doesn't blatantly watch over him, he knows that she's keeping an eye on him.

The hotel is provided by the hosts of the event, a five-star hotel usually reserved for celebrities and uber-wealthy tourists, with the type of architecture that made everything look like glass panels and glass windows and glass doors and glass floors. Jackson feels the familiar dizziness after flying from one point on the Earth to another, and the reality of your foreign surroundings settles in.

One of the consultants hands out room cards. Jackson and Wes will be in different rooms. This he knew in advance. Wes had texted him that he bought another room for Jackson, since he wasn't attending the conference and therefore would not be provided a room. There was no explanation as for why they didn't just share a room, but Jackson suspected Wes was providing them a security net to fall back on if they suddenly hated each other and needed space. Jackson admits reluctantly that it's always a possibility.