I'm still wondering if his suit is going to split open when he sits down, but upon closer inspection it's clearly tailored to him. Cufflinks on his crisp white shirt glimmer subtly in the cabin's dim light. His watch appears outrageously expensive even without a close look. His hair is perfectly tousled, his suit perfectly pressed and creased.
I spent a lot of money for this seat. This guy clearly belongs here.
“I'm Sonya,” I say, switching the champagne to my other hand as I reach out in greeting.
“Matvei,” he says, his hand enveloping mine, enormous and warm, his grip surprisingly gentle for his size.
The name jolts me in its familiarity, though I cannot for the life of me remember where I’ve heard it before. I’m also distracted by the spark of electricity that ignites between us. It’s probably just static in the close-quarters cabin.
“This is my first time in first-class,” I confess. “I spent all the money I'd saved for my wedding on it because I hate flying, and I thought this might make it better. This, and a nice hotel in Prague, plus some sightseeing adventures so I can forget my ex,” I babble as he settles himself across the aisle.
“I assume he was the person texting you.” At my expression, he ducks his head in apology and sips his own glass of champagne. “I couldn't help but see part of your screen over your shoulder. Part of the curse of being too tall.”
I flush and bite my lip, taking a bigger sip of the champagne than intended, coughing from the bubbles. “I was planning the wedding and saving up, and then he just disappeared. The next time I heard from him, he told me he was breaking up with me. No explanation. Today I finally got one.”
He clucks his tongue and takes another sip. “Well.” His eyes catch mine over his glass in a way that makes me gulp again. “There are many other men in the world. I'd hope the opinion of one asshole doesn't start making you doubt yourself and your beauty.”
“Maybe I can find someone in Prague. I wonder what kind of body type men prefer in the Czech Republic?”
What was meant as an attempt at humor clearly falls flat as he stares at me with that same unsettling gaze. “I would hope you find someone who appreciates the entire package, not just the wrapping, as appealing as it is in itself.”
Another of his smoldering looks before he downs the rest of his bubbly, handing the glass to the flight attendant coming around to collect them before takeoff.
I spend the acceleration down the runway and the entire ascent gripping the arms of my chair, my eyes squeezed shut, breathing deeply in and out before I start to panic.
“I didn't think you'd survive takeoff.”
I open one eye to see him peering at me. His smile is small, his eyes warm with amusement.“I told you I hated flying. The takeoff is the worst part.” I squeeze my eyes shut again, but his voice is like a siren song, pulling me back from the edge of my panic.
“I'm a good distraction,” he says, his voice a low rumble. When I open my eyes again seconds later, he's still looking at me, his chin resting on one hand as he leans forward.
“A little too good, I think. You’re not helping me focus on my imminent doom.”
“I’m trying to prevent it. I don’t think they special order body bags for two.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he teases me.
And from that moment on, I’m lost. I find talking to this enormous enigma of a stranger easy. Matvei seems content enough to listen.
We talk until my eyes start to grow heavy, aided by the hum of the engine and the extra glass of champagne I ordered. The lastthing I hear is a chuckle as I drift off in the middle of a sentence, unable to stay awake any longer.
I'm roused by a sudden jolt, followed a heartbeat later by another one, the second even more violent. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
I grip the seat so hard my nails dig into the soft leather. Another jolt, and I feel like I'm flying out of my seat, my stomach in free-fall.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We're flying through a storm as we cross the Atlantic, so we can expect some turbulence for the next half hour or so. I'm turning on the fasten seat belt sign to keep everyone safe. Please bear with us until we get through the storm.”
The captain sounds calm and disinterested. I should take heart in that, but I don't. All I heard were the words “storm” and “turbulence.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, then squeal at another massive jolt. The plane rises and descends, then rises again before dropping once more. “This was a terrible idea.”
I'm going to die because that asshole broke up with me and I had some wild idea about washing off his touch, his betrayal, and my misery with a random trip to Prague.
“Sonya?”
I hear Matvei’s voice, but I can't open my eyes, because if I do, we're going to crash. The plane takes a steep dive before leveling out, but not in time to stop my cry of fear.
“Sonya? Are you all right?”
“Sir, you have to remain in your seat.”