“Loading zones ones and two,” I heard over the intercom. That was us. I stood and she followed suit, taking a long stride for each one of mine. We stood silently side by side but her carry-on carry-on was obviously too heavy for her because she kept struggling with trying to handle the awkward bag as well as her oversized oversized purse. God, what does she have in there? Every step forward was an overexerted effort, so I took the carry-on carry-on from her without asking. She held fast to it as the line moved, but I refused to let her have it back. We stood there, silently fighting over her ridiculous carry-on until the guy behind us cleared his throat. I yanked it from her hands. She huffed and straightened her clothing, puffing her disheveled hair from her face. We boarded the plane without a single word. People probably thought we were both crazy.

Unfortunately, we were forced to sit coach because the label, although made of money, apparently didn’t like to spend it. Row eight, seat B, loomed ahead of me like a dentist’s chair. Seven hours of pure hell laid ahead of me.

“You can have the window seat,” I said, gesturing to the inside seat. “I’ll take the aisle.” Try to keep the peace.

“No, I’d rather sit in the aisle, thank you.”

I stuffed her carry-on above us then took a deep breath to compose myself. “Seriously, I don’t mind giving up the window.”

“And I told you, I don’t want it,” she gritted.

My blood was beginning to boil now. “January, I’m trying to be cool with you.”

“I realize that and I said thank you but no thank you.”

“Fine,” I gritted back. I sat in the window seat, opened the plastic shade and watched the men below load our bags with the utmost care you’d expect those men to handle your bags. Yeah.

By the time the plane, took off, I was asleep.

January

Tom fell asleep before we even left pavement, for which I was grateful because I didn’t want to have to explain to him my most inconvenient problem. I was allergic to traveling. Well, not allergic so much as just extremely susceptible to motion sickness. It didn’t matter what I was traveling in, be it plane, train, or automobile. I had a genetic predisposition of ralphing everything in my stomach each time I barely set foot on any form of transportation. It’s why I argued over keeping the aisle seat, I needed to have better access to the lavatory.

As soon as Tom drifted off, I swallowed down the motion sickness pills my doctor prescribed me with my bottle of water. These I only took when I would be able to sleep for hours because they made me sleepy as hell.

While I waited for the pills to take effect, I took out the tattered paperback I’d brought from home and settled into my seat but couldn’t bring myself to bend the barely-there cover. I worried that my motion sickness issue would become just that, an issue for Tom. Scouting involved an astronomical amount of traveling, and although I knew this going into it, I wasn’t going to let my little problem stop me from doing it. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and the job was made for me. There was nothing I loved more than music. Music kept my heart beating, my mind clear and my soul deep.

Drowsiness took over and my head started to feel heavy on my neck. Before I knew it, my book had slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the floor at my feet.

Thomas

I vaguely remember falling asleep but I definitely remembered waking up. I was staring at the top of January’s head, her long, silky brown hair laid arranged across my chest. She’d accidentally fallen asleep on me and I grinned at that. She’d flip her shit if she knew she’d done that. I studied it. There were red highlights throughout and it gleamed in the sunlight that shone through the window. I shut the window to keep myself from running my hands through it. I breathed deeply to keep myself in check, but that only magnified the problem because it kicked up whatever perfume she was wearing and my head began to swim.

I tried to shift her but she groaned. I was stuck. I dared not disturb her because I enjoyed this peaceful side of the girl I knew nothing about but somehow felt I knew better than anyone else. I needed a distraction. I slowly reached for my iPod in my jacket pocket and brought it out. I put the buds in my ears and an old Dashboard came on. While Where There’s Gold played, I tried hard not to let the lyrics remind me of the dreams I’d lost. I tried, but failed. Bitterness began to paint my thoughts with the poison only bitterness could infect with. Regret. Lots and lots of regret.

A few months before The Ivories disbanded, I knew it was over. Things were taking place that simply gave it away. Cherry started to miss practices to hang out with Charlie, not that any of us had cared, we all had things to do that seemed more important. Our songs suffered for it and our sizable following recognized it, so they simply stopped showing up.

I started to become obsessed with Kelly, making up excuses to hang out with her. This made Carter incredibly nervous, rightfully so, and she had to end our little private dinners and lunches and movies. I knew it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of Kelly’s naivety like that. I knew I was wrong, but I still felt an added cover of bitterness creep into my heart that Carter didn’t want her to do as she wished. Another thin veneer of bitterness was added on top of my growing layers as well because it felt like she had started to feel the same way about me as I did for her. I knew if we could’ve had another month or so, she would’ve been mine.

That’s when I took the Austin gig. I thought it would’ve helped me move on, find solace in a career worth taking solace in but being alone only magnified how much my heart had hardened and before I knew it, it’d turned to stony ice to keep from hurting so damn badly.

That’s why I resented January so much. That night, that embrace, that unbelievable kiss cracked my carefully guarded, steeled heart. She reminded me of what I didn’t want to remember wanting anymore. I didn’t want to know the comfort of someone’s touch or kiss. I just wanted to be alone, regardless of what that would cost my life because nothing was as costly, in my opinion, as a broken heart. Nothing.

January

I woke to the faint sound of Tom’s iPod in my ear. Damn, he’s playing that loudly. Doesn’t he know he’s gonna remove apostrophe lose his hearing at that decibel? I inwardly sighed. Why should you care, January?

Something felt off though. That’s when I realized that he wasn’t playing it loudly....at all. In fact, I’d only heard it so well because I was practically on top of his lap! My face and neck flamed red, of course, and I silently thanked God that my hair was fanned across my face, hiding my reaction. I smiled lightly. Hmm, while I’m here... I took him in. His chest was hard and wide and so incredibly warm. I inhaled deeply, making sure to keep my breathing even so it wouldn't give me away, and smelled his astonishingly yummy smell. Oh my Lord, he was built like an Abercrombie model. I felt it underneath the ridiculous layers of clothing he hid himself in. I wanted to lift his hoodie and run my fingers down his washboard abs. Then I panicked and adrenaline began to pump through my veins...because I was a drooler. I know, I know, not exactly the most ladylike admission but I was nonetheless. I carefully pressed my lips together to feel for excess moisture. Dry. Thank God.

It’s time, January. I needed to pretend to wake and act astonished that I was laying across his chest and that I didn’t enjoy it. If I was going to pull it off, I’d need to channel my inner Meryl Meryl Streep. I slowly stirred. Good, you’re doing good. Now, rise. Awesome. If I survive, I should get an Academy Award for this. But when my eyes met his, my body had other plans. It flamed a bright red, crept right up my neck and colored my ridiculous face. God, how I hated that I had no control over this part of myself.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said sarcastically. “Have a nice sleep, did you?”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, averting my eyes slightly. I caught the attention of a guy two rows up from me. He mistook my blush for being caught staring at him, which I wasn’t, obviously. He winked and I rolled my eyes, making me blush deeper.

I noticed Tom eyed me carefully. “What?” I asked harshly.

“Oh, nothing, really.”

“Seriously? What?”

“You can’t help it, can you?”

“Help what?” I asked, shrinking into myself.

“That,” he said, gesturing subtly toward the idiot two rows up.

“What exactly are you implying?” I gritted out. What was it about this guy that brought out the cynical in me?

“I’m not implying anything, January. I’m simply making an observation.”

“Please, enlighten me, Tom. What exactly did you observe?”

“That men fly to you like a bug to a zapper.”

“Lovely. That’s a lovely analogy. Yes, I’m a man-eater, Tom. You’ve pegged me completely and, what, you’ve come to this conclusion all from one stupid kiss? All because I made the gargantuan mistake of pressing my lips to yours?”

“Why do you keep talking about that? I never brought that up.”

“Yes, but it’s safe for me to assume that’s where you’re drawing all your reference from since the kiss has been our only real interaction with one another.”

“You forget The Belle Jar party.”

“So you flew to me like a bug to a zapper that night, did you? From what I remember, you called me a slut.”

“I did not call you a slut, January! I said what you’d done was slutty.”

“Ha! Same thing!”

“No, it’s not, and I apologized for that already. I told you I didn’t mean any of it.” He exhaled loudly. “Besides! You weren’t exactly innocent either! You played me that night! You dragged that confession out of me! God! I was such a sucker for it, too! I had no idea I’d fallen into your web until it was too late.” He pointed at himself and said, “Bug!” Then pointed at me. “Zapper!”

I smiled smugly and crossed my arms, happily burying myself into my seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, femme. Sure you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “Listen, I just want to clear this up now, although I don’t why because I don’t owe you any kind of explanation, but if it’ll make you stop being such a supreme ass with me, I’ll fess up. I am not the kind of girl who kisses strange men. It was a one-time offense and you happened to be the victim, as you so seemingly are implying. I’ve only kissed two guys my entire life and you happened to be the second. I’m sorry. I’m sorry and it won’t ever happen again. I swear on my life.”

Tom narrowed his eyes briefly before fixing his expression to one of cool indifference. “Good.”

The rest of the flight was met with uneasy silence.

Thomas

She’s only kissed two guys? I almost couldn’t believe her. She was so gosh damn beautiful, there was just no way that could be possible. I watched her. She bit at the side of her thumbnail as she argued with herself internally over whether or not her outburst was smart . It was. She put me in my place and I deserved it, not that I’d let her know that little fact nor would I let her know that her confession did a bit more than that. It made her even more intriguing, if that was possible. Get a grip on yourself, Tom.