Page 55 of Guarded Love

He doesn't respond to that, and I immediately regret what I said. It's not his fault Professor Wallace rearranged the seating.It's not his fault we're both here. It's not even his fault that my heart is racing from being this close to him.

The plane begins to taxi, and I swear my stomach is ready to leave my body. I hate takeoffs. Always have. I grip the edges of my seat as the engines roar louder.

"You can take the armrest," Blaise says suddenly.

I glance at him. "What?"

"The armrest. You can have it. Middle seat gets both armrests. It's the rule."

"There's a rule?" I ask, momentarily distracted from my takeoff anxiety.

"Unwritten airplane etiquette. Window gets the view, aisle gets the legroom, middle gets both armrests. It's the only fair compensation."

Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. "Is that in the airline constitution somewhere?"

"Should be."

The plane accelerates down the runway, and I instinctively tense up. Without thinking, I grab the armrest and it’s then that I quickly realize Blaise’s hand is still there. His skin is warm against mine, and for a split second, neither of us moves a muscle.

Then I snatch my hand back like I've been burned.

"Sorry," I mumble, mortified because of what I’ve done.

"It's fine," he says, but he moves his hand away, giving me what I am owed.

The plane lifts off, and so does my stomach. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. In, out. In, out. Don't think about how you're in a metal tube hurtling through the sky. Don't think about the guy sitting next to you who's pretending this isn't awkward.

"Not a fan of flying?" Blaise asks after a moment.

"What gave it away?" I say through gritted teeth. "The fact that I'm barely breathing?"

"Yep."

I crack one eye open and find him watching me. One eyebrow is raised as if he’s surprised by my reaction, but I’m disarmed by the fact that there is a certain amount of tenderness in his gaze. Something I haven’t seen in years at this point.

"Takeoffs are the worst part," he offers. "Statistically speaking."

"Thanks for the reassurance," I say, but I’m not trying to be a complete asshole this time. "I'll be fine once we are in the sky."

Tyler moves again beside me, completely oblivious to our conversation as he continues to stare out the window. The plane finally reaches cruising altitude, and the seatbelt sign dings off. My death grip on the seat eases slightly.

"Better?" Blaise asks.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The fact that he noticed, that he cared enough to ask, is doing weird things to my insides that have nothing to do with turbulence.

"So," Blaise says after a moment, "did you get all your finals wrapped up okay?"

Small talk. He's making small talk. Which means either he's as uncomfortable as I am or he's taking pity on me. Neither option is particularly appealing.

"Yeah," I reply. "You?"

"More than okay," he says as he runs a hand through his blond hair. "Glad it’s over, but also ready to jump back into things in a couple of weeks."

I nod as I reach for my EarPods, desperate for a wall between us. I pause when I realize how rude it is of me to put these in my ears while he’s actively talking to me. The goal is now to complete the conversation so that I can have peace as quickly as possible.

"Same." I force myself to continue the conversation even though every cell in my body screams to escape it. "One more semester and then I'm done with my junior year."

"And then you have your internship in New York this summer."

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