flight-risk {g.d.}

sixteen

grayson:

time moved fast, my heart growing weirdly heavy at each ticking minute.

i was glad she moved to the middle, because it made me think she finally trusted me. at least, a little.
i keep shielding her away from my journal, making sure she doesn't see what i'm writing. but she will, i can promise that.

a few minutes ago i tried to squint to see her twitter handle, but she turned off her phone, just like how i hid my notebook. i think she's scared of even thinking about contact after the plane lands.
and so am i, a little bit.

the denim still covers her and i smile just looking at it, glad that i offered it to her when i did. if i could take a picture without being considered creepy, i would.

actually, i think, a picture might be good.

i take out my phone camera and hold it up.
"say cheese," i say.

to my surprise, she actually leans in and rests her chin on my shoulder with a big smile. i take the picture and immediately decide that it's my favorite.

"if i ever see that anywhere you're dead, dolan."

"only if you promise to find me and do it yourself," i tease.

she rolls her eyes, but fails to hide a blush.

"this has been... an experience." she concludes.

"probably my favorite plane ride since my trip to the bahamas when i was eight." i say.

"what made that ride so special?"

"my brother choked on a complimentary raisin and had to get cpr from the oldest flight attendant to walk this earth."

she lets out a hearty chuckle and i join in. it feels good to laugh and forget about what lies ahead of us.
on this plane, time seems infinite.

"i tried to text my old pen pal when you were sleeping," elizabeth says and takes a folded, crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her backpack. "she gave me her number a long time ago in a letter, and i'm praying she never changed it."

"you know, you could just get ahold of me if something goes wrong-"

"grayson," she interrupts with a pained expression. "i just- i don't want to be reminded of who i used to be. once i step off this plane, i'm a new person. i can't have things holding me back."

i frown. "right. sorry."

"if you apologize it makes me sound like an asshole."

"you are an asshole."

"wow," she laughs. "thanks."

i stare once again at the writing scribbled on the page in front of me and read it over again and again.
should i even tear this page out, or should i scrap the entire thing completely, closing the worn leather cover and pretending it never happened?

then a loose piece of paper falls out, answering my question. the colored pencil wave drawing she did only hours ago makes me remember why i even picked up the pen to write it in the first place.

"we land in 20," she says, but i swear i can hear a small sigh too.