Page 2 of Bear with Me
Thankfully, the plane roared to life below us, and my bear retreated when we started rolling. He would be fine in the air, but he hated anything with wheels when he wasn't the one driving. I parked at the station and rode the L or the subway most of the time to appease him. Railcars had wheels, too, but they felt more like ice-skating to him. He loved ice-skating.
Since I couldn't be on the ice and in the air, I compromised with a hockey romance. Once we were cruising at 35,000 feet, Ipulled my e-reader from my inner coat pocket and did my best to ignore the roar of the engine, though I could still hear it over the music playing in my earbuds.
An hour or so later, the flight attendants rolled by with the snack cart. I glanced over my shoulder at the jerk beside me to see how he was holding up. The old man on his other side was sound asleep on his shoulder, which looked incredibly sweet until I saw the look of horror on my neighbor's face.
Huh. Served him right. I returned to reading my book until the attendants made it to our row. I flipped down the tray table and waited for my turn.
"I can't believe how small your bottles of vodka are," my neighbor said with a scowl. "I'll take three of your highest proof. Here's my card."
"Sir, we told you when you boarded, we will not be serving alcohol on this flight."
"Not even if I pay my own way?"
The flight attendant shrank back from his glare. "We don't have any alcohol to give you," the attendant on the other side of the cart said. "Didn't you see the news this week?"
I'd ignored most of it, thinking it was human business. I didn't drink alcohol, since my shifter metabolism would burn off the effects before I felt anything at all.
"Some college girl dies on a flight, and that's somehow my fault?" He sounded desperate.
"She died of alcohol poisoning." The attendant's voice was low and exuded patience that would have made my grandma proud. "Until her parents drop their lawsuit or the airline settles, we'll be a dry airline. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." She turned to me. "What can I get you, sir?"
"Water, please."
"I'll have a water, too," the man beside me grumbled.
"Perfect."
She tried to hand the first cup of water to me, but he reached for it instead, tipping the glass. Water splashed onto my arm, immediately absorbing into my flannel shirt. A droplet fell on my e-reader, and I hastily brushed it off on my pant leg.
"I'm so sorry, sir." The flight attendant tossed a handful of napkins at me while glaring at him. When she tried to hand the next cup to me, I pointed at him instead.
"It's about time," he said. By the time she finished pouring the next cup of water and handed it to me, he had already drunk his. He held up the empty plastic glass. "Refill?"
The ever-professional flight attendant couldn't roll her eyes at him, but I did. I was done giving this guy the benefit of the doubt. Some people were just assholes, albeit stunningly beautiful and nice-smelling ones.
CHAPTER 2
BLAKE
My bad fuckingday kept getting worse.
First, I bombed my ten-a.m. job interview for call center supervisor. I blanked on my resume details. I knew them, hell, I'd lived them, but when the manager said, "I'm a pretty laid-back interviewer. Let's start by going over your resume," it caught me off guard. Resumes were how you got your foot in the door, not interview fodder. Apparently, "You haven't read my resume?" Was the wrong answer.
I'd applied for this next step up at Interstate Insurance three times now. Each time, the interviewer had started with a bunch of rapid-fire, "What would you do in this situation? Explain your answer," bullshit questions that had nothing to do with being a supervisor. Still, I was ready for those questions. I was not ready to review my resume.
Once I stumbled through my extensive job history, from McDonalds to the call center, the manager politely offered me his hand and said he'd be in touch. It was only after I fled the room that I realized he hadn't asked me anything else.
An hour later, I dipped my sleeve into my mustard cup at lunch. I'd been trying to dip my fresh pretzel. It had looked sogood behind the cafeteria's glass counter. On my plate, it was soggy and gross.
When I tried to remove the yellow spot with a wet paper towel in the bathroom, the sparkling navy fabric turned a sickly swamp green. I sighed as I blotted it with more paper towels. It was probably time for a new suit. I'd worn this one since I got it for high school graduation, and the sleeves were a little too short.
I passed another manager in the hallway on the way back to my desk. He laughed at my fashion faux pas and said, "Where'd you get that suit, Blake? Bargain basement?"
I dropped both middle fingers behind my back and kept walking. I had one more hour of purgatory before I could leave for the airport and begin my much-needed vacation.
This would be my first Christmas without my parents. I didn't know what hurt worse, their deaths in a car crash or my sister Cassie's refusal to let me visit her. She was a student at the University of Minnesota, a seven-hour drive from me. It made sense that we should be together for the holidays, even if they wouldn't be as cheery as in years past. She was my last living relative! She said she couldn't stand being around me because I said things like that and brought her down.
I brought everybody down. Story of my life since my parents died, anyway. Before then, I'd been a happy-go-lucky omega. When I drank, which was often and copiously, I was the life of the party. Maybe on this vacation, I could find a party or two to crash.
