seat no. 26 a ~discontinued~

7. romantic notions

flight attendants are pretty people. i watched them as they walked up and down in towering heels. i wonder what their toes feel like after a long flight. it must be hell.

 noah asked for a bottle of water, fifteen minutes after we began cruising, requesting for it politely in that deep, lovely voice of his, and i felt a tiny bit jealous of the air hostess, because she was getting one morsel of his complete, undivided attention.

 i was being rather stupid.

 i still couldn’t get over his british accent though.

 could i get a bottle of woo-ta, please?

it reminded me of hugh grant, daniel craig, daniel radcliffe, paul bettany (is paul bettany british? i always get confused. noah’s voice reminded me of him anyway.)

 but more importantly, his voice reminded me of him.

 i sat fidgeting in my seat for a while, wondering if we were just strangers on a plane being nice to each other or if we were going to make conversation.

 silence is weird, though. i wondered what he was thinking about.

 was he thinking about his bottle of woo-ta?

 was he thinking about the tao of physics?

 was he thinking about that air hostess’ lips and how full and pink they were?

 was he thinking about how uncomfortable the plane was? it must’ve been, judging by the way his legs were folded up.

 was he thinking of his life back in london? his girlfriend, perhaps?

was he thinking about how ridiculous i looked when i smiled?

 because he saw me smile properly then hadn’t he? i’d not done that in a long time. smile properly, i mean. it was weird. i could do it pretty easily around him.

 before i could really obsess about noah creepily in my head anymore though, the seatbelt sign came back on, barely fifteen minutes after it was switched off. i looked up, frowning, out of the corner of my eye i saw him do the same.

 um, he said.

 yeah, i agreed.

 around us, everyone was buckling up.

the captain’s voice crackled over the pa system.

 cabin crew return to their seats, all passengers to return to their seats, we appear to be experiencing some turbulence. nothing to worry about – just a bit of rough weather which will probably pass soon, but for your safety the seat belt sign has been switched on.

i swallowed, trying to quell the sick feeling that welled up inside me on hearing that announcement.

 don’t think, i told myself in my head, don’t think about it, don’t think about that.

 i leaned my head on my knees.

 hey, are you alright?

 oh gosh, his accent.

 i don’t like turbulence, i told him, which was the closest to the truth.

 oh. he paused. why not?

his question took me aback so i straightened up and looked at him curiously. he stared back, eyes wide and chocolate brown.

 what’s to like? i asked.

he shrugged.

what’s not to like?

 i stared at him.

 i...

his eyes twinkled at me.

 you know bernoulli’s theorem, don’t you?

 i blinked.

 well, yeah...

if we just follow the basic principles of bernoulli’s theorem, turbulence is nothing dangerous, really. the change in the height factor is compensated for by a change in the velocity head. the overall equation stays constant, we stay safe.

he used physics to cheer me up. physics.

 and it worked.

 i smiled at him again, meaning it to the fullest, because it was the one thing he could’ve said to quell my fear, it was that, and he said it, in that accent, too.

 he returned the smile.

 my heart melted.