Chapter Text
Kate Sharma was tired, sweaty, pissed off, and to top it all off, she was in an airport. This could only end badly for everyone involved.
Specifically, it seemed destined to end badly for the front desk agent for the airline that had just unceremoniously canceled Kate’s flight from London to New York, which was supposed to drop her off in Newark just in time to catch a cab to her little sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner.
Edwina was engaged to Charles (really Charlie—the only time Kate had ever seen him referred to as Charles was on the wedding invitation) Bagwell, whom she had met during her undergraduate years. Kate’s sister had traveled to America to major in English at Columbia, and Kate took endless pleasure in teasing Edwina that she had traveled to a country that didn’t speak English to study the language. Charlie and Edwina had met in a Jane Austen seminar, and the rest, as they say, was history.
Truthfully, Charlie was just like Edwina, down to his almost suspicious degree of kindness. Well, maybe it was not suspicious, but Kate had certainly been suspicious of it the first time they had met. But over the years, he had worn her down with his thoughtful birthday texts, the countless ways he made Edwina happy, and his endless support for the Sharma family as they had gone through the hardest time in their lives when their father died a few years prior.
Despite her famously high standards, particularly for anybody who deigned to think themself worthy of her little sister, Kate was over the moon for the two of them, and beside herself with excitement to be able to join in their happy day as Edwina’s Maid of Honor.
Which was why the canceled flight in question was causing a seemingly endless stream of colorful language to fly from Kate’s mouth at the poor, unsuspecting desk attendant.
Kate, of course, knew that the situation was not the fault of this employee. However, she also knew there were only two ways to get somebody to do something for you: fear, or seduction. Eyeing up the clearly overwhelmed mousy girl sitting at the desk as she approached, she decided fear was the most obvious tactic.
“...I get this bloody email 30 minutes ago, after I already passed through fucking security, and it tells me that my flight has been canceled out of fucking nowhere?! What the fuck am I supposed to do, my sister is counting on me, they are all counting on me, you need to get me on the next flight right now, or so help me I will—”
“I can get you on the next flight to New York!” the girl squeaked out, her fingers flying over the computer keys. “There’s another flight an hour after you were supposed to leave, it’ll take you to JFK instead of Newark, but it will get you to New York."
“That’s fine,” Kate said heavily, looking at her phone. An hour delay would not be so bad. If she changed quickly in the airport bathroom when she arrives, she would still make it to the rehearsal on time.
Kate watched as the girl’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Oh?” she snapped. “Oh, what?”
“Just that, it looks like there’s only one seat left on the flight.”
“Okay, then, put me in that one,” Kate said.
“I can, but it is in first class,” the woman replied. “It's double the cost of your original seat, I’m afraid.”
Kate put on her best glare and straightened up so that her full height was on display. “You cancel my flight out of nowhere and now you have the audacity to charge me double for a later flight? What is your name?”
“Rosie, ma’am.”
“Rosie. Are you fucking kidding me, Rosie?” She swore the girl actually shrank in front of her.
She felt bad for a moment, but it went away in an instant as Rosie squeaked out, “I'm sorry, I can waive the fee, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience Miss Sharma.”
“Oh,” Kate said, blinking. “Thank you.” And as Rosie handed her the new boarding pass, refusing to make eye contact, she added with a smile, “You’ve been a great help, Rosie.”
It had taken so long to sort out the ridiculous ticket that, even though the flight was later than her first one, Kate still had to sprint across the airport to make it to the gate on time. She arrived during the final boarding call, shoving her boarding pass into the hands of the gate agent, who, upon seeing that she was in first class, ushered her away down the bridge, carrying her suitcase along behind her.
Kate shoved her way onto the plane and dropped her bag into her seat. It was far and away the biggest, cushiest seat she had ever had on a plane, with full armrests and the ability to recline so far the seat basically formed a bed. On the back of the seat in front of her was a screen that might be bigger than the television in her flat.
As a rule, Kate did not endorse the hyper-privileged lifestyle, but for no additional cost, she could not help but be a bit giddy with excitement at the prospect of being able to enjoy all of the amenities on this flight. Besides, since she had managed to finagle this ticket with no additional cost, she could even think of herself as a bit of a Robin Hood figure, taking from the rich to give to…well, herself, but she was certainly not wealthy living off the income of a part-time artist, part-time barista, part-time dogwalker.
As she sat down with a long exhale, she glanced at the man in the seat next to her. Her seat was on the aisle, and he was leaning against the window of the plane, sunglasses on even though it was a cloudy day. He had bluetooth earbuds in and a head of chestnut hair covering most of his face, which was fixated on the laptop open in front of him. He did not look up even once as she settled into her seat.
Upon a first impression, Kate decided that he seemed like a bit of an arse. But, that hardly mattered. She had so much room to spread out, she could simply kick back and enjoy a drink and a few movies without ever having to spare her neighbor another glance.
The stewardess approached Kate, and she immediately ordered a glass of champagne, deciding that if she didn’t have to pay more for this seat, she could afford to splurge on some of its luxuries. The man next to her removed one earbud long enough to order a scotch and soda. As he turned toward the stewardess, Kate threw a friendly smile in his direction. She couldn’t be certain if he saw, since he was still wearing those obnoxious sunglasses, but given the fact that his brow furrowed in confusion right after, with no returned smile on his face, she was pretty sure that reaction was intended for her. As if it was unclear why she would even think it was her place to acknowledge him at all.
Yep, definitely an arse.
But Kate did not let it get to her. Instead, she plugged in her headphones to the screen in front of her and happily scrolled through the available movies. Landing on When Harry Met Sally, a tried and true favorite, she settled back into her chair to enjoy the flight ahead, and maybe finally start breathing a bit easier after her sprint across Heathrow.
But those dreams were dashed as, not even a minute into the movie, she felt a sharp tap on her shoulder.
Removing an earbud, she looked at the man next to her, to whom the tapping hand in question belonged.
“Can I help you?” she asked, disdain evident in her voice.
From the angle of his face, she was pretty sure his eyes were still focused on the laptop in front of him as he said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you turn your movie down? It’s distracting.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. This guy had some fucking nerve.
“I am literally one minute in and it is a perfectly normal volume.”
“I can hear it even though I am wearing my own earbuds, clearly it is not a normal volume.” Still, his face was pointed at his laptop, like whatever his work was was so important he couldn’t stop for even a second, even to be an arsehole to a stranger.
“Maybe you should turn up whatever you’re listening to instead,” she rolled her eyes.
“Maybe you should consider a hearing aid of some kind.”
“Maybe,” she said emphatically, putting her earbud back in, “you should mind your own fucking business.”
“Excuse me?” Finally, that got him to turn to look at her. Lowering his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and taking out his earbuds, he faced her head-on for the first time, and Kate’s heart skipped a beat. This guy was handsome. Like, really handsome. Like a made the word 'handsome' embarrassed to have ever applied to other people, kind of handsome. His thick hair fell across his forehead in an effortlessly ruffled yet perfectly manicured fashion, and his jawline looked like it could cut glass, even with a light five o’clock shadow creeping in. His eyes, visible to her for the first time, were a chocolate brown she could feel herself melting into, and his lips were a distracting soft pink, even though they were currently pulled into a tight line of displeasure.
Kate gathered all of this information in a couple seconds, but reminded herself firmly that even painfully attractive people did not simply have a free license to go around telling other people what to do.
Instead, she opted to deflect, very maturely gesturing to the newly-reinserted earbud and mouthing, Sorry, I can’t hear you.
His eyes narrowed at that, and his nostrils flared, but his eyes remained fixed on her even as she flipped her hair purposefully to indicate she was done with this conversation. She could feel his eyes on her as she pressed play and watched Billy Crystal making out with his college girlfriend as Meg Ryan sat, bored, in the front seat. When Meg honked the horn of her car to get Billy’s attention, Kate decided enough was enough.
Pausing the movie again, she whipped her head back to the handsome stranger. “Can I help you?” She repeated, her voice louder this time.
Unblinking, he took off his sunglasses, and Kate had the strong sense that she was being x-rayed. It was entirely uncomfortable, and more than a little erotic. He made no attempt to disguise his perusal of her body, lingering over her legs, which were propped up in her reclining chair.
She took the opportunity to sneak a glance at him past his face, and noted that he was dressed immaculately. The only sign that he was off-duty in whatever corporate soul-sucking job he worked was the fact that his blazer was draped over the armrest of his chair, and his tie loosened to allow for the top button to be undone. A small patch of chest hair was peeking out of his shirt, and Kate stopped her perusal right there. No need to think any more about the bare chest of this man who was quickly becoming her new nemesis.
Finally, his eyes returned to her face, with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. He leaned in a fraction of an inch, a barely-perceptible quirk to his lips, and Kate blinked in confusion as he said slowly, “You can turn down the volume on your movie.”
Kate let out a huff, feeling embarrassed that she had let him get under her skin like that. “You know, I’m still having some trouble hearing it.” And she turned up the volume.
His jaw clenched as he watched what she was doing, but Kate did not miss the way his eyes flickered back to her face, down to her lips, and then back to her television screen. She suspected she was not the only one whose breath had been taken away for a moment.
Good, she thought savagely, pleased with herself for wearing this particular outfit to the airport. The shorts and white tank top had not been intended to attract attention, but if this hot guy was going to be looking at her with such condescension, at least she looked good for the occasion. As she said, fear and seduction were the two ways to get something from somebody. Maybe if she let him sweat about her for a while, he would fucking leave her alone.
Their staring match was broken as the stewardess returned to Kate’s side. She set the champagne down on Kate’s side table, before reaching over to hand the man his drink.
Kate was not sure exactly how it happened, but an instant later, scotch and soda was splashing directly into her lap.
“What the fuck!” She shouted, leaping out of her chair, as the stewardess let out a stream of apologies, and scurried off to find napkins. “What is your problem?” She said, rounding on the man, who was looking at her with an open mouth.
Kate looked down and clenched her jaw. Suddenly, the white tank top did not feel like the best choice on her part.
“Glad you’re enjoying the show,” she hissed through gritted teeth, and leaned down to pull her dress out of her bag. The plan had been to change into this on the way to the rehearsal dinner, but apparently no part of this trip was going to happen as planned.
“Fuck, no, I, I’m not—” the man stammered, a far cry from the slow, deep, confident delivery the last time he had spoken. “I mean I wasn’t looking at you, I just—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t you?” She snapped. “That wasn’t your revenge for the volume?”
“No!” His eyes grew wide. “Of course not, I’m sorry, truly. Here, let me pay for your drink.” He gestured at the champagne glass. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You’re right about that,” she rolled her eyes, and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
“How about this, I pay for all of your drinks on the flight?” He proposed.
The stewardess returned with napkins, and Kate snatched them from her, dabbing the front of her shirt, not that she had high hopes of salvaging it at this point.
“Can you put her tab on me?” The man directed his question to the stewardess, who nodded slowly and replied, “Of course, sir. I’ll be right back with a new drink.”
She disappeared again, and Kate focused her glare back on the man.
“I didn’t ask you for that.”
“I know that, it just seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“Yes, such a gentleman,” she snorted. “What, you just go around buying drinks for random women on flights? Who even are you?”
He paused, staring at her hard, before he seemed to decide something important. “Anthony,” he replied, purposefully ignoring her skeptical tone and extending his hand to her in greeting and throwing her a charming grin. She looked at his hand, then back up at him. Slowly he retracted the hand, but the grin remained in place.
“I’ll be back,” she said. The sentence was intended to sound threatening, but it came out sounding a bit more like a promise.
As she turned toward the bathroom to change, she was almost certain she heard him mutter, “I am holding my breath.”
In the bathroom, Kate pulled off her soaked top and shorts, zipping up her yellow rehearsal dress instead. It was summer, so the dress was perfect for the rooftop dinner Edwina had planned for the evening, cut off well above her knee with a couple tasteful cutouts around her midriff, one of Kate’s signature looks. She had been very pleased with the dress when she found it; it was certainly more daring than her Maid of Honor dress, but that felt appropriate for the rehearsal setting, and it was perfectly suited for a night out in New York.
It was not, however, ideal for a seven hour flight next to a mouthwateringly hot stranger who had a habit of dropping drinks on her. Oh, well. It could not be helped, she shrugged, taking a minute longer in front of the mirror than was strictly necessary.
She slipped back out of the bathroom and made her way down the aisle, more than a little pleased to see the way Anthony's mouth parted when she came into view. She noted that the stewardess had already dropped off a replacement drink, and appeared to have wiped down her seat. First class really was a magical place.
“If you ruin this one too, you’re buying me a new one when we land,” she warned as she sat back down, pulling the fabric as far down her thighs as it would go, which was still not very far.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his eyes still trained on her body as if under a spell, indicating that in fact he could dream, and perhaps even was presently dreaming of a few ways one could ruin this dress. Kate turned her head as she sipped her champagne to stop him from seeing the smile on her face.
“So Anthony, after being unbearably rude, you’re going to try to make up for it by getting me drunk?” She asked conversationally, putting her glass down.
He blinked, opening his mouth as if ready to argue her phrasing, but closed it with a little shake of his head, his eyes again straying downward. “Do you have any objections to that?”
Kate pretended to consider the question for a moment before saying decidedly, “No.”
The corner of his mouth turned upward. “And may I ask the name of the woman whose drinking habit I am sponsoring tonight?”
“Kate.”
“Kate,” he repeated, and she doesn’t know if it was the champagne going to her head, but her name had never sounded better. “Short for Katharine?”
“Kathani,” she said, studying him closely as his eyes lit up, as if learning her name was some little victory to him.
“Kathani,” he repeated again, and Kate took another sip and tried to ignore the way her abdomen clenched at his soft voice and silky smooth accent caressing her full name. “And what takes you to New York on this lovely evening, Kathani? Business or pleasure?”
She rolled her eyes at his salacious tone, but replied, “My sister’s wedding, I’m not sure which category that falls into.” She gestured at the laptop still out on his tray table. “I take it business for you, from your whole, you know, vibe.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing really, just that you seem sorta…uptight.”
He scoffed. “I’ll have you know I can play just as hard as I work.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she snorted in response.
“Hmm, I don’t know, you strike me as a bit of a dull boy,” she mused.
“Ha. Very clever of you. But yes, you’re right, it’s business.” He stopped talking to throw back a large sip of his drink, but his eyes never left her. “But more on your sister’s wedding. Younger or older?”
“Younger,” she replied.
“Yes, you do strike me as the protective older sibling type,” he commented, and she opened her mouth indignantly. “Don’t misunderstand me, I mean it as a compliment. I can relate.”
“Ah, an older sibling yourself?”
“Rather notoriously,” he rolled his eyes.
“Of course. I should have recognized that smug attitude the minute I saw it.”
“Like looking in a mirror, is it?” He quirked an eyebrow, and she huffed, trying to hide how much fun it was the meet somebody who could keep up with her, beat for beat. When she did not reply right away, he went on. “So, do you approve?”
“Of you? Certainly not.”
“Of the groom,” he replied testily, before amending, “Or bride, I shouldn’t assume.”
“He’s a perfectly suitable man.” She certainly did not need to tell this stranger about how Charlie had been there for her family when her father died.
“Perfectly suitable? Stop, please, such romantic words, you’re making me blush.”
“He is good to her, that is as romantic as it gets,” she said.
“I wish I had had this kind of attitude when my sister got married,” he commented dryly, sipping his drink.
“Don’t tell me you hate him?”
He chuckled, and she felt the sound go straight to her core. “Not quite. He was my best friend.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “So what was the problem?”
He laughed again, and took another drink. “He was my best friend.”
“How brooding and mysterious of you.”
“I wish. I got so drunk at the wedding I made a speech about how he wasn’t good enough for her.”
“Oh, God,” she snickered.
“Yes, not my finest moment. But it’s water under the bridge now, as they say.”
“I’m glad they found it in their hearts to forgive you.”
“But what about you? Any big plans for drunken embarrassment at this wedding?”
“Drunken embarrassment is hardly ever planned, in my experience,” she replied, turning out to the aisle just as the stewardess walked by, her nearly empty champagne flute between her fingers. “Miss? A Long Island Iced Tea, please?”
Anthony hooted with laughter at her side. “Make that two.”
“You’re not even close to done,” Kate commented, gesturing at his glass. “Not planning to dump the rest on me again, are you?”
In response, he smiled darkly and, never breaking eye contact, downed the rest of his scotch and soda. He leaned forward a few inches to hand the glass off to the stewardess, and as his face crept nearer to hers she could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. They maintained a respectful distance, but it was as if she could sense his warmth now, feel it starting to envelop her.
“Are you bringing a date?”
She blinked, his unexpected question drawing her out of her reverie.
“Um, no,” she said, her brain not quite functioning properly to come up with something more clever. “Would have been hard to convince somebody to fly to America just for a weekend.”
“So no boyfriend, then?” He asked, and his eyes flicker down to her lips again. She pursed her lips in response.
“That’s a pretty personal question,” she said, but she knew that gave him all the answer he needed, as he leaned back a bit with a satisfied expression.
“Apologies,” he said, though his smug smile indicated he did not mean it.
“How long are you going for?” She asked, taking both cocktails as they arrived and handing him one.
“Just the weekend as well.”
“A work trip on the weekend with a five hour time zone change,” she observed, looking at him over the rim of her glass and feeling the strong drink go to her head immediately. “Must be some important job.”
“Somebody has to do it,” he said. It looked like he was trying for a smile, but it came out a grimace.
“Uneasy lies the head, and all that?”
He barked out a laugh. “Something like that.”
From the silence that fell over them, it was evident that he did not want to talk about his work. His gaze slid over to his laptop, and Kate fell back in her chair.
“I should let you work, you’re clearly very busy and important,” she said, putting an earbud back in. “I’ll keep the volume down, but only a bit.”
“No need,” he replied, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I’ll just turn my volume up, I can drown out your movie. Except perhaps when it comes time for the fake orgasm.” She glanced over at him, a smile spreading across her lips at his knowing smirk.
“You watch Meg Ryan movies?”
“I have sisters, it’s an occupational hazard. Besides, that scene is iconic.”
“Can’t disagree with you there. Well.” After a moment of awkward silence, she made a little salute-y gesture, as she put the other earbud in.
A while passed, and she tried her hardest to focus on the movie in front of her, on the perfect banter and quick remarks. The problem was, she missed the banter from a few minutes before.
But as Harry and Sally met each other for the second time, this time on a plane, she snuck a glance over at Anthony. It looked like he was digging through a detailed contract, his brow furrowed in concentration. She really shouldn’t disturb him, no matter how much the Long Island Iced Tea (already more than half gone) was daring her to.
But then he switched browsers to his Spotify, and she simply could not help herself.
“Taylor Swift?” she laughed amazedly, pausing her movie to look at him, and he took his earbuds out in an instant to return a glare. “You listen to Taylor Swift?”
“I repeat, I have sisters,” he growled out.
“Nuh-uh, your sisters aren’t here right now as an excuse,” he shook a finger in his face, realizing that the drink had probably gone to her head more than she realized until right now. “You are actively listening to Taylor Swift of your own free will.”
“Do you have a problem with Taylor Swift?” He snapped back.
“Of course I don’t, I'm a fun and vibrant young person,” she rejoined. “But you, Mr. Anthony Serious Business Man, you just don’t seem the type, especially for Reputation of all albums."
"I don't seem fun or vibrant or young, you're saying?"
She took a sip in response, raising her eyebrows.
“Well, I am full of surprises.”
She hummed, allowing herself to look him up and down. A huge mistake; in the time since they had stopped talking, apparently he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and suddenly her slightly tipsy eyes had never seen a more attractive sight than this man’s forearms, and she was imagining the muscles below his skin rolling and flexing as he found some more interesting ways to surprise her...
He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped back up, to meet his amused gaze. He smirked as if he knew exactly where her mind had gone, but did not comment on it. Instead he said, “If you must know, it is my sister’s favorite.”
“The one who married your best friend?”
“No, the youngest.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Four.”
“Four? ” her mouth dropped open.
“Yes, and three brothers.”
“Three— ”
“Do you have a problem with large families?”
“No of course not, just that,” she paused to take another sip. “…Your parents must be really into each other.”
“Christ,” he groaned.
“I’m just saying.”
“Please don’t.”
She put her hands up, feigning innocence. He glared, until his face broke into an unwilling giggle—yes, giggle was the only word for it. She giggled right along with him, until finally she pulled a mock-serious face. “No but, back to the point. Taylor Swift.”
He put his head in his hands. “Fine. I am listening because this is her favorite album and I want to be able to talk to her about it.”
There was a long beat while he waited for her to say something, anything. Finally he raised his head from his hands, peeking up at her as if scared to experience whatever mockery she had in store for him.
Instead, he was met with the tiny curve on the left side of her mouth as she studied him with her large eyes.
“What?”
The other side of her mouth curved up to match.
“That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
A laugh burst forth from him.
“You’re drunk,” he observed.
She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Yes, what of it?” Her eyes landed back on his, and she knew her gaze must be hot by the way his breath caught in his throat.
He smiled back at her, a kind of mesmerized, loopy grin on his face. “Another?” He gestured at her nearly empty glass.
She pursed her lips and gave a short nod. He flagged down the stewardess.
“It’s pretty white of you, listening to Taylor Swift,” she commented.
“What gave me away?” he replied sardonically.
“Just saying.”
“Well you’re one to talk, watching When Harry Met Sally.”
“It’s different, obviously. When I watch this movie it’s subversive.”
“Uh-huh. Subverting what, exactly?”
“White pop culture.”
“Of course,” he sighed. “You know, you could subvert white pop culture if you listened to Taylor Swift with me.” He reached out to offer up one of his earbuds, and she grinned.
“Anthony!” She opened her eyes wide as if she was scandalized. “Listening to Taylor Swift together? That’s a very intimate act you’re proposing.”
He leaned forward, and she could smell the strong, sweet liquor on his breath, could feel herself swaying in toward him, tilting her head the other way and looking down at his lips. Okay, this flight was surpassing her wildest expectations.
“I could think of a few more intimate acts you might prefer,” he murmured, just a few inches away from her face, and she looked up long enough to take in the fact that he was also looking at her lips. Her abdomen clenched, and she took in a deep breath.
“Buy a girl dinner first,” she teased, but her voice came out gravely.
And just as she felt him start to lean in…
The next round of drinks arrived.
“Here you—oh, sorry,” the stewardess muttered, but Kate blinked and looked away from Anthony, nodding in thanks as she took their drinks.
Anthony looked up. “Can we order dinner as soon as possible, please?”
Kate let out another giggle at his sly smirk.
The moment lost, she accepted one earbud and insisted that they started the album from the beginning so that she could explain to him the accompanying lore. They talked about the Kanye phone call, and the Tom Hiddleston rebound, and how she found this guy named Joe who seemed kind of boring but maybe boring was just what Taylor needed.
Dinner arrived in several courses, and Kate had to scoff at how far superior every aspect of first class truly was. He asked if she had ever flown first class before, and she laughed in his face, then explained how she had thrown a fit and gotten herself upgraded.
Eventually as the music played on, their conversation drifted to the movies they watched with their families and their favorite holiday traditions and memories of their childhood homes. Kate recognized the wistfulness in the way Anthony talked about his father, and she was pretty sure he must have passed away, since it was the exact look she got on her face whenever she talked about her father, but she did not ask, and he did not offer. She did not offer such personal details, either. The conversation never grew that weighty. Instead, they laughed and joked and reminisced fondly and, of course, drank. At one point, she trailed her finger along his forearm, though she cannot remember what inspired her to do so, watching the hair stand up on the wake of her touch. At another moment, he rested his head on her shoulders. Other than that, they hardly touched. They just sat with each other. Kate could not remember the last time she had felt so peaceful.
The closing chords of the final song played as their conversation wound down to an easy quiet, and Kate blinked to realize the album was over already.
“I really liked that song,” Anthony declared.
“Yeah,” Kate shook her head a bit. “New Year’s Day is beautiful.”
“Is it your favorite?”
Kate looked over at him, feeling his penetrating gaze on the side of her face, and too aware of the flush creeping up her chest. he really seemed to care about her answer. “I don’t know if it’s my favorite, but it’s a good one. Is it yours?”
“Off that album, I think yes. But Hyacinth listens to all of them so much, I can’t keep them straight. Which one is the one about Romeo and Juliet?”
“That’s Love Story, grandpa,” she teased.
“Ah, I get them mixed up.”
“It happens.”
There was another beat of silence, and Kate looked around for more words.
“Do you need to work?”
“No,” he said after a moment. “Do you need to sleep?”
“No,” she replied, even though she knew she should if she wanted to be ready for Edwina’s rehearsal dinner.
“Oh.”
Another beat.
“Do you want to finish your movie?” He asked, fiddling with the ring on his pinky finger, and drawing her attention back down to his forearms for a moment. God, they were good forearms.
“Do you want to watch with me?”
“Sure.” He nodded, and she handed one of her earbuds over to him this time.
They finished off When Harry Met Sally, talking through it nearly as much as they had the Taylor Swift album.
Somewhere in the middle of the next movie (Anthony requested You’ve Got Mail, and after a few good rounds of teasing, Kate agreed), Kate drifted off, her jetlagged brain demanding some amount of rest before they landed.
She awoke with a start as the plane touched down, and quickly realized that her neck was arching. Next, she realized, as she tried to lift it up, that she could not, since there was something heavy on top of it. Finally, she realized that the heavy thing was Anthony’s head, and the soft feeling on her cheek was his shirt.
He was warm, and she wished for a moment that she could pretend like she was still asleep and just keep her head in place for a while longer, but she felt his neck twitch and his head slowly rise, and knew she would have to run off the plane in just a few minutes if she stood a chance of making it to Edwina’s dinner on time.
“Fuck,” he muttered, putting a hand behind his neck.
“Yeah,” she echoed, giving her shoulders a good roll.
“You’re not as comfortable as I thought you would be,” he commented.
“You’ve thought a lot about how comfortable I would be?”
He threw her a side-eye that had her cracking a smile in no time.
Before she could say anything else, he twisted his neck just so that he let out a loud, involuntary moan, and Kate could actually taste the saliva forming in her mouth. She swallowed hard, pressed her lips together, and looked out toward the aisle so he could not see her face.
“Something distracting?” Came his teasing voice from her other side.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she shot back.
“I definitely would.” His tone was dead serious, and it made her stomach turn somersaults.
She blinked, biting the inside of her lip and watching his eyes trace the movement carefully. “I missed the ending. Of the movie. Was it happy?”
The corner of his lip turned up.
“Yes. She figured out who he was and she didn’t even care. They kissed. Somewhere Over the Rainbow played. There was a dog. It was very happy.”
“That’s movies for you,” she said, speaking only to fill the tense silences that took up air when she did not. “He lies to her for months but she can forgive him because he’s just so charming.”
“He didn’t lie,” Anthony argued, “He just didn’t tell the full truth about who he was.”
“Sounds like a lie to me.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“I will never agree to that.”
“I’m shocked,” he said sarcastically.
“I can be quite shocking,” she smirked, then glanced down the aisle. “Do you think they’ll let me use the loo while we’re on the tarmac? I should put on my makeup before I get in the cab.”
He waved his hand. “You’re in first class, they’ll let you do whatever you want.”
She grinned cheekily. “You really do live the good life, don’t you, Mister Anthony whatever your last name is?”
“Some days more than others,” he replied, his eyes liquid.
She blinked and pulled her bag out from under her chair, plopping it on her seat and grabbing her makeup out of it. “Be right back,” she added unnecessarily, and he nodded.
In the restroom, she popped a couple painkillers, the headache from alcohol and very little sleep starting to seep into the rest of her body, and looked at herself in the mirror. Was she seriously about to give her number to a stranger on a plane? This was the most un-Kate Sharma behavior she had ever considered, but then again, so was getting drunk and falling asleep with a stranger in first class.
She swallowed. If he asked for her number, she would give it to him, she decided. If he didn’t, it was a sign that her drunken brain had clearly let the secret romantic inside her run away.
She returned to her seat to find the plane had already reached the gate.
“Well, I should really run if I’m not going to be late,” she said, grabbing her backpack off her chair and standing in the aisle for a moment.
He maneuvered his way out of his seat with his own bag, and they stood next to each other for the first time, and she let herself sway a few inches closer to him than was strictly appropriate, looking into the depths of his eyes.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll hand it to you, it was a very good flight in the end. Not very productive,” he allowed, “but good.”
“You got educated in Taylor Swift, now you’re more than ready to speak to your little sister, I’d say that was very productive.”
He raised his eyebrows, and looked at her hard.
“Well,” she said after an expectant beat and held out a hand. “Have a nice life.”
His lip curved, and she was certain he had caught the reference to When Harry Met Sally. He took her hand, his thumb grazing along the inside of her wrist and sending goosebumps over her entire body. Waiting, waiting… “You too.”
She deflated. “Maybe we’ll meet again on a plane in like five years, yeah?”
The mysterious ghost of a smile remained across his mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Who knows.”
She let out a small huff, heaving her backpack over her shoulders. Apparently this wasn’t going to happen. A shame. She thought…well, it didn’t matter what she had thought.
“Bye, Anthony.”
She turned to leave, and as she goes, she heard him murmur, his voice soft as silk, “Goodbye, Kathani.”
She sprinted through the airport and out to the taxi station. Twenty minutes later, her breathing finally settled as the car sped through Brooklyn on her way to downtown Manhattan, and she reached for the side pocket of her backpack where she keeps her phone so she can text Edwina her ETA.
As she pulled it out, a small rectangle of paper fell out of the same pocket.
She looked at it curiously, cradling the cardstock in her hand. It is a business card, with the name “Anthony Bridgerton - CEO” stamped across the bottom in small print. It gave an email and a phone number, and the name of a business, “Bridgerton Corporations”.
She stared at the card for a long beat, her heart fluttering in her chest. She had his number, she realized, she could call him any time.
On the back, there was a note, scrawled in cramped handwriting:
Until our paths cross again. x Anthony
But then she flipped the card over again, studying it hard. Her brain finally stopped focusing on the phone number and processed the “CEO” stamped next to his name.
Bridgerton. Anthony Bridgerton. Why did that sound so familiar?