16:58

Chapter Four

"Soooo..." Colton says bordley. "I thought we weren't using our phones."

I look away from my laptop. "A: it's my laptop and not about a relationship and B: it's for a class."

"What are you doing anyways?" he asks.

"Working on a paper," I tell him.

"What's it on?" he asks.

"Why do you care?" I ask, looking at him briefly and then going back to typing.

He shrugs. "I don't. But I'm bored."

"Why don't you just sit still and eat your peanuts?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes and looks at his watch. "Three hours and thirteen minutes left," he tells me. "So, I get another question."

"Fine." I shut my laptop. "Go ahead."

"Why were you crying in the bathroom?" Colton asks.

I frown at him. "What the fuck? I wasn't crying."

He shrugs. "You came back upset and your eyes looked red."

"I didn't cry."

"You almost did," Colton says.

I open my laptop and keep typing. "Why the fuck do you care?"

He sighs and throws his hands up. "Fine." I hear Colton tapping his fingers against his legs. "Are you going home for the holidays?"

"Yeah. Isn't everyone?"

"Everyone except Bryce." I look at Colton and he has a huge grin on his face.

"You proud of that one?" I ask.

He nods. "Come on, Andy. That was pretty good," he tells me. "And it's okay to laugh, by the way."

I close my laptop again and look at him. "Is this weird for you?"

"Is what weird?" Colton asks as he stretches.

"Acting like we're friends," I say. "It's been four years—"

"Yeah, four years, blah, blah, blah," Colton cuts me off. "You sound like that chick in Titanic: 'It's been eighty-four years...'"

"You're such a dick," I mutter.

He rolls his eyes. "Fours years doesn't mean shit when I'm bored as hell on a long-ass flight with my ex-girlfriend."

I make a face at him that's slightly condescending. "Did we ever really date, though?"

He rolls his eyes. "My point is, I'm bored and you're sad. And it's almost, almost, like maybe we're kind of friends right now. We're stuck with each other for the next three hours, so we might as well make the most of it and not be bad about shit that happened eighty-four years ago or whatever."

"Wow. Great speech." Colton snatches my laptop. "Hey! Give that back!"

"Nuh-unh," he says as he stands up and holds it above his head. I go to grab it, but he puts his arm out and pushes me back, so no matter how hard I try, I can't get to my laptop.

"Give it back, you asshole!" I yell. People turn around to look at us.

"Be quieter," he says.

"Give me back my laptop, you dick!" I yell, louder than the first time.

"Is everything okay?" a flight attendant asks.

Colton looks startled and releases his grip on me. "It's uh, fine," he spits out.

"This thief took my laptop," I tell her. She looks at Colton is a disapproving way.

"Sir, give her the laptop back. There is an Air Marshal on this flight," she says. Colton's face goes dead white and I snatch the laptop out of his hands.

A man walks over to where we are. "Is there a problem here?" he asks.

I smile smugly, thinking Colton's going to get into trouble. But instead, he puts his arm around me and says, "I'm sorry about her. Andy, here, is worried about bringing me home to her parents, so she may have had a drink or two or five—" I kick his leg and he pauses to glare at me and then smiles sweetly before continuing, "And she tends to get a bit loud. Right, sweetie?"

"I fucking hate you," I mutter.

The man, who's presumably the Air Marshal, stares warily at Colton. And the flight attendant doesn't seem convinced. "You know, I think it's my schmoopy bear here," I say, pinching Colton's cheeks, "that's drunk. You know, he hasn't been the same since he started using steroids—"

Colton claps his hand over my mouth. "So, as you can see, everything's fine. We're sorry for the disturbance."

"Don't make any more scenes," the flight attendant says and walks away.

The man stares at Colton. "I'll be watchin' you," he says before walking away.

I fall back into my seat laughing and clutching my laptop to my chest. "Aw, shit. That cop's gonna get you," I tell him.

Colton's sitting stiffly in his seat. "His handcuffs are probably fake. And he's not even a real cop," he says, trying to reassure himself. The man looks over, glaring at Colton.

I laugh harder. "You're gonna get nailed. And I'm not bailing you out of jail."

He rolls his eyes and pinches my cheeks. "I didn't pick the right schmoopy bear then." His face is serious for a minute before cracking into a smile. Colton looks at me. "The world must be ending because you're laughing," he says.

I shove him and stop laughing. "Mr. Air Marshall, sir," I whisper yell. "He's—"

"Stop," Colton says looking around in a paranoid way. "Or I'll put your computer in the toilet."

"Whatever." I put my laptop on my lap and start typing. My essay isn't going especially well. I think it's because Colton's staring at me while I type. And that makes me mess up and also forget what I was writing.

"I'm really not that bad," he says after a few minutes.

"How's that?" I murmur.

"I got you to laugh and have a little bit of fun," he tells me. "And being sort of friends is nice."

"I never said you were bad," I tell him, still focused on my laptop.

"Then why did you make me the villain?"

"Is that your question?" I ask, looking at Colton and sighing.

"Yes."

"We had problems," I tell him. "You cheated on me with lots of girls, lots of different times. And then you said some bad things. I think you even told me I was like my mother." I sigh. "But I cheated too. After you, of course. And after we were mostly broken up."

Colton doesn't say anything.

"I'm not blaming you. I honestly don't care about what happened. The relationship ended because of both of us, not just you." I bite my lip. "Maybe were just meant to be friends."

"Yes, but I—" Colton cuts himself off.

"But what?"

Colton sighs. "I never wanted to be just friends with you, Andy." I don't say anything. "I'm sorry for some of the things I said, but I'll never be sorry for loving you."