Page 109 of Poison Aches

I shake my head and more tears fall down my cheeks.

Realizing that I’m about to have a full-blown meltdown, I quickly wipe away the evidence of my pain, and pull myself together so I can rush toward the gate.

The boarding pass in my hand is almost crumpled up into an unrecognizable mess.

By the time I get to my gate, it’s already last call and the area is empty. I didn’t even get the chance to grab a quick bite to eat as I was already late, but that’s what happens when guilt hijacks your sleep.

As I wheel my cabin bag down the ramp, my body feels heavy and tired.

My phone buzzes with a text just as I get to the door.

Astraea:I’m going to miss you so bad! Remember, home is where the heart is!

Astraea:PS. By the way, I made alternative plans for you!

Astraea:PPS.You’re sooooooo welcome!

I frown, reading the consecutive texts.

Something’s wrong about this. What does she mean by alternative plans? And why the hell am I welcome?

It's a no-brainer that my friends are dramatic as hell, but this is kinda unsettling.

With my current state of mind, I really don’t need surprises or anything dramatic to the next level.

“Ms. Irving?”

I look up and the flight attendant is looking at me with an ever-so-polite smile that makes me realize that she’s been waiting for me.

“Yes, sorry about that,” I say with an apologetic smile of my own.

“That’s all right. We’re about to get ready for takeoff, please, this way. I’ll show you to your seat.”

I smile and nod, but inside I’m confused. Since when do economy saver passengers get “shown” to their seats?

She reaches for my carry-on and smiles as she turns around and heads into the aircraft.

Feeling incredibly uneasy, I follow after her and instead of going to my seat way at the back as it was the last seat available on this flight, she stops short of a few steps.

I look around and realize this must be the new first-class lounge… which is entirely empty.

“Ms. Irving, this is your seat,” the flight attendant, whose name tag says Jane, gestures to one of the wide seats by the window.

“Ummm, yeah, there must’ve been a mistake. My seat is?—”

“Your seat was upgraded,” she says, smiling widely.

“Uh, when did that happen? I literally just checked in not more than twenty minutes ago.”

“Just after you checked in, ma’am,” Jane says, obviously puzzled by my lack of enthusiasm.

“Was this charged to my credit card?” Because I can’t freaking afford it!

“No, not at all. Someone else covered the expense.”

I pause.

Is that what Astraea meant when she said I’m welcome?

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