My heart beats a little faster. I lean down slightly and inhale. She smells like lemon pie and meringue—sweet, clean, and tart.
“Did you just smell me?”
“Yes.”
“Lean down, please.”
“Why?”
“So I can return the favor.” Cautiously I move toward her, and she inhales. “You smell nice, too.”
It breaks the invisible glass wall that tends to rest between me and everyone else. The draw she holds is immeasurable. Maybe if I let down my mask, she’ll find the rest of me just as acceptable as the pieces she’s already seen. The pressure to emulate normal behavior according to societal standards isn’t there at the moment. I want to experience more with her.
The lights overhead flicker, and the golden arches dim. Machines beep, and the cashiers call for their manager. A wave made up of disgruntled voices goes through the crowd. Minutes roll by. The manager appears by the register from the back. “I’m sorry, folks. The storm has knocked out our connection with the computer system. We aren’t sure when it’ll come back online, and the storm is growing worse outside. For these reasons, we’ll be closing down now. Instead of letting the food already made go to waste, you’ll be welcome to it by line order. First come, first serve. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
People surge forward, and Delta is shoved to the side. People rush in like contestants on an episode of Supermarket Sweep. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I pull her closer, shielding her body
from the worst of the jostling. Her fingers wrap around my forearm. The firm hold sends bolts of pleasure racing through my body. I shiver as the hair raises up on the back of my neck and the muscles in my stomach contract. Light touch is distracting and unpleasant on a good day. I can bear it briefly, but it’s not enjoyable. The stimulation is almost painful as it hits all the wrong sensations. This, however, feels like just the right amount of stimulus. I want more over the rest of my body. I imagine those perfect white teeth she shows when she smiles sinking into my flesh, grounding me into the moment. Her body presses into mine. My nerves tingle, and I inhale sharply as I guide her away from the fray.
Chapter Two
Delta
Leave it to me to get entangled with the scariest dude at my gate. When we return to the gate and resume our polite ignoring of the other, I notice others give him a wide berth. There’s something different about him I like. That blunt honesty gives me comfort. I do best when I know what to expect. The hours continue to whittle away as the delay lengthens. It’s only a matter of time until they call it. I work on my word search between texting Rose. I never minded the snow. I think it’s pretty most of the time. Right now, the fluffy, white flakes are the enemy holding me prisoner as it accumulates outside, piling higher and higher as the sun sets.
“No.” Groans of disappointment bring my head up to the desk. Canceled is splashed across the screen above the perky attendant’s head.
They’re finally calling it. Dejected, my shoulders slump, and I lean my head back, sinking into the seat. Might as well get comfortable. People huddle around, making phone calls and hustling up to the desk as if the gate agent has control over the weather. I feel a pang of sympathy for the young girl who probably just wants to go home before she’s trapped in here with us. Pulling my legs up, I remain seated, letting them all burn off their excess energy before I try to do anything.
A few workers join the attendant, explaining over and over again that no flights are headed out tonight. I saw a few people gather their things and rush away from the gate. Probably trying to rent a car to drive. I wouldn’t want to be out on those treacherous roads. I doubt the city has had the time to clear and salt them.
“I need to get home. You waited until the last minute to announce this, and now I’m stranded.” The masculine voice booms through the space.
I jerk in my seat. My body tenses and I shrink inward, making myself as small as possible. Be less visible. You aren’t a target if no one notices you.
“Sir, I’m sorry. These things happen.”
“You will find me another flight.” The tow-haired man’s chest heaves as he leans over the counter toward her.
A male gate attendant joins her. “There aren’t any going out today.”
The angry passenger is deterred by his presence. “Then find me an alternate mode of travel.”
“That’s not part of our job description, sir,” the male attendant replies.
“I’m making it part of your job.”
The brunet attendant edges his female co-worker behind him and takes a protective stance. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how it works.”
In two heartbeats, the customer is flying across the counter. Screams spring up. My heart beats fast in my chest. My mouth goes dry. I grip the sides of the chair as the past threatens to overshadow the present. I’m not back in that home. Snap. Snap. The slap of leather meeting leather is a ghost echoing in my ears. The heavy tread of boots over wood as my foster-father lurches forward drunkenly. My breathing increases as the men wrestle on the ground. Men clad in black polos and cargo pants run down the aisle, pushing the crowd back. They stream in like a swat team in matching padded vests. Blood rushes in my head, magnifying my heartbeat. The man kicks out, roaring as he rushes them like a deranged bear. Hitting the first man like a football player sacking another, he bowls the security man over into the one behind him. They fall like living dominos, crashing to the ground in front of me. Crying out, I scramble up, perching on the back of the seat in my haste to escape the ruckus.
A tangle of limbs, security struggles to right themselves as the rogue passenger climbs over the pile like a victorious football player about to score. One of the men captures his ankle. He goes down. I watch, panicked, as the large man falls toward me like a chopped tree delivered its final blow.
“No.” The yell breaks through my stupor. I fall back as the man is jerked away from me. Sam is standing, breathing hard, holding the man by the scruff of his jacket. The passenger chokes as he dangles in his grasp. Sam’s black eyes are dilated and filled with rage. Glazed over, his singular focus is the man in front of him. He’s going to hurt him, and it’ll be my fault.
“Sam.”
His teeth grind together as he stares down at the man, struggling to remove his massive hands from his coat. “Let go of me, asshole.”