Stars Align

chapter one

       

"It's ok." My voice is a few octaves higher than normal as I clinch my cold, wet shirt in my fist, trying to pull it away from my skin.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," the frail, older flight attendant tells me, voice wavering in panic and embarrassment. "At least let me upgrade your seat and see if I can find you some towels." Her shoes frantically click on the floor, rushing to find me a new seat. "Here, this one isn't taken. Please, sit and I'll find you some towels." She rushes off after she points out the empty seat.

I cautiously sit down, flinching when the cold, sticky, and wet material of my shirt brushes against my skin.

"Here," the older woman rushes back, handing me towels. I try to dab at my shirt, but the damage is already done and far beyond repair. No matter how much I try to wipe at my shirt with the towels, it's still sopping wet. "Oh, I'm so sorry," her voice wavers, and it sounds like she's about to cry. "I feel awful. I wish I had something to give you, or I wish there was something else I could do, but I couldn't find anything else to possibly help."

"It's ok, really," I try to comfort her, mustering up the best smile I could manage. "It was an accident," I gently remind her. It was an accident. The lady next to me ordered a soda and the attendant reached over me to hand her the cup but lost her balance, and the wet, sugary substance went rushing down the front of my shirt. Now I'm stuck with a soaking wet, cold, sticky, and stained shirt for the rest of the flight.

"Excuse me," a soft but deep voice calls from my right. I look over and my breath nearly catches in my throat. Sitting next to me is possibly the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my entire life. His brown locks of hair are slightly tousled on top of his head and his kind blue-green eyes are shielded behind a pair of stylish glasses. "I actually have a hoodie you can borrow, if you want."

"Oh, bless you," the old woman says, placing a hand over her heart, a relieved smile gracing her face.

"Are you sure?" I nervously ask after probably gawking at him for a beat too long. "I don't want to take your hoodie," I admit, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"Please," he says, looking through his carry on and pulling out a simple black hoodie, handing it to me. "I couldn't even imagine having to sit through a twelve hour flight with a soaking wet shirt," he admits, flashing me a brilliant smile that I'm sure would have made me go weak in the knees if I wasn't already sitting down.

"Ok," I comply, taking the soft material into my hands. "Thank you," I tell him before standing and walking to the small airplane bathroom.

Once inside, I strip off my soaking wet t-shirt and bra, wetting some paper towels to wash my skin. When I feel clean enough and dry off, I slip the thick, black material over my body, inhaling the scent of his intoxicating cologne that clings to the fabric. The hoodie is a little big on me, making it that much more comfortable and cozy. The thick material reaches about mid-thigh and the cuffs of the sleeves go just past my fingertips.

Rolling up the sleeves up to my wrists, I grab the elastic around my right wrist, using it to throw my auburn hair up into a messy bun. After doing a once over in the mirror, I grab my wet clothes and make my way out of the tiny bathroom. On the way to my seat I run into the attendant and ask her for a bag to put my wet clothes in.

I make go back to my new seat and comfortably sit down. "Thank you, again," I say, slightly leaning towards the man who gave me the hoodie, gaining his attention as he pulls his nose out of the book he's reading.

"It's no problem." He flashes me that breathtaking smile again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sorry it's so big on you. You look like you're drowning in it." He lightly chuckles.