Page 1 of Not Your Basic Love Story

CHAPTER ONE

I always have a plan. Always. The empty seat next to me was definitely not in the plan. Even worse, it was a painful reminder of the loneliness I was about to face for the entirety of my weekend in Mexico. Not that it was a vacation. If it were possible to cancel, I would have.

I fidgeted with my unclasped seatbelt. I’m usually more relaxed by the time I’ve boarded. I did, after all, get to the airport an hour early and have a beer (or two) in the lounge. My anxiety was still high because of the unknown factor: who would be sitting in the row with me. Knowing my luck, I’d be stuck sitting next to the chattiest person in British Columbia.

If only I had the window seat. It’s easy to ignore people from the window, watching the landscape fly by. Unfortunately, I was stuck in the aisle as people stuffed their winter coats into the overhead compartments and jostled their luggage past.

Now began my tradition of guessing who would be sitting next to me.

An old lady approached with her ancient carpetbag, sun hat already on her head, fake pastel flowers along the brim matching her blouse. She smiled at me, and for a moment, I resigned myself to having to talk about all ten of her cats for the entire five-and-a-half-hour flight ahead. She checked her printed ticket, squinted at the numbers above her head, and kept moving.

Next was a young mother travelling alone with a rambunctious little boy, who was already whining and fighting against her. As much as I love kids, I don’t love being confined in a tiny space with them for hours at a time. Sitting next to a toddler would also make my empty seat barrier moot; there would be zero defence against the screams of pain from tiny ears popping or the smell of dirty diapers. I released a relieved sigh as the mom worked her way past. I hoped whoever she sat next to would be helpful.

Oh no. Worst case scenario. An older guy approached, coughing into his hands and sniffling through his red, runny nose. It was too early in the season for allergies. It would be just my luck to leave on vacation and return home with the flu. There wasn’t enough sanitizer in the world to help me here. Luckily, he also kept moving, his germs some other person’s problem.

My breath caught in my throat at the next passenger. Tall. Dark. Handsome. All of the clichés. His black hair shined, perfectly combed atop his head, and his beard was trimmed along his jawline and faded into his sideburns, emphasizing his angular features.

Time slowed as he checked his phone and then looked up at me. His gorgeous, deep brown eyes were pools of hot, sweaty summers and mysterious backstory. The quirk of his gentle smile hinted at various talents other than containing his perfectly straight teeth, their pristine whiteness a stark contrast against the warm colour of his skin. I couldn’t help but smile back, warmth flushing my cheeks.

He said words.

“Hmm?”

He pointed past me. “That’s my seat.”

“Oh!”

I stood, shuffling by him awkwardly as he ducked and slid into his spot. His chest brushed up against mine momentarily, accompanied by the gentle, welcoming aroma of his tasteful cologne and perhaps a hint of tequila.

I sat back down and buckled in as he situated himself. My pulse quickened. Did I really get to sit next to Mr. Sexypants for the whole flight? Oh shit. That meant I had to figure out how to string words into sentences without conveying how awkward I am, which was difficult to do even under normal circumstances.

He put his immaculately cared-for iPhone on airplane mode before tucking it into his canvas and leather messenger bag and went to shove it under the seat in front of him, but I interjected.

“You can put it under the middle seat. I mean, if you want. More legroom for you.” I offered a polite smile, trying to avoid direct eye contact.

He looked up at me, caught my gaze, and again I was lost in those intense eyes of his. I tried not to blush.I failed.

“Nobody’s sitting here?” he asked, eyebrows raised and brow slightly furrowed.

I shook my head. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and took me up on my offer. As he slid his bag under the seat, I noted the absence of any rings on his fingers.

I forced my eyes forward.Get it together. He’s a perfect stranger. He’s not interested. Your bed is barely cold, and here you are, fantasizing about a stranger on a plane. Miranda was right. I should have spent the last two weeks swiping right instead of eating ice cream and watching The Bachelor.But Tinder, ugh. I wasn’t ready for that dumpster fire yet.

“First time going to Mexico?” he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, perhaps a bit too formal for travel, to reveal thick forearms with a spattering of dark hair.

Relax, girl. It’s only a forearm. Although, it’s one of the top five sexiest parts of a man’s body.Maybe heisinterested. A little flirting never hurt anyone, right?

“No, I’ve been a few times. You?”

He shook his head. “Never to Mexico. I haven’t been on a plane since I was a kid, and I barely remember it.”

I smiled. “Well, if you need anything, I’m a veteran flier.”

“Thanks. I’m a little nervous. I wish I wasn’t by the window.” He looked out, his expression trepidatious.

“The window is the best part! Take-off and landing are usually a little bumpy, but other than that it’s quite boring. You won’t see too much once we’re up there, just clouds. Once we get closer to Mexico and start our descent you’ll see the ocean.”I was babbling. Luckily, the pre-flight checklists forced me to stop before I could embarrass myself any further.

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