Analia Palacio, heiress to a drug empire. Marred by tragedy at a young age, she was whisked away from her birth-right. After a twelve year delay she jets back to her country of birth to claim her title. As Lady Palacio she steps into the court of or...
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Analia Quinn Palacio
"I want to fly the jet."
"No!"
"Oh, come on! I'm a great pilot."
"Ben, the last time you were behind a yolk you flew right through a group of gees."
"Hey, it wasn't my fault they were migrating the wrong way!"
"Ben, you were flying the wrong way."
I purse my lips to keep my laugh in, tossing my canvas tote bag into my seat before I settle in, taking out my headphones, computer, and book. I unfurl the blanket tossed over the cushions and recline my seat, glancing over at Ben and Laïa as they squabble over who isn't going to fly the plane.
"-Ben, it's a twelve-hour flight, you will inevitably get bored and fly us into the ocean."
"Laï, it happened one time."
Laïa arched her perfect brow, her light green eyes glinting with amusement at her brother's antics. They're the same age, with Ben being a couple of months older, but you'd think that Laïa was dealing with her little brother. She turns to look at Demyan, Karine, and I.
"Alright, all in favor of this psycho to fly the jet, raise your hand."
Ben raises his arm, but mine stays glued to my side. I do not want to re-live the emergency water landing or the geese incident. Demyan and Karine must think the same thing because they don't raise their arms either.
"Ouch." Mumbles Ben as he scratches the back of his head, he gives Laïa a sheepish smile before he walks past her, claiming the seat next to his girlfriend. Demyan drops his backpack on the seat across the aisle from mine, he pulls out a deck of cards and starts setting up a game of solitaire. It's early in the morning, we should be arriving in The United States with enough time to try and fight off the jet lag. I pull my headphones from their case and place them over my ears, pressing the noise-canceling button. I stretch out my legs as we prepare for take-off. The butterflies in my stomach turn to bats as the engine fires beneath me. I close my eyes, not to sleep, but to truly tune out the world around me. I clasp my hands together and place them over my stomach, feeling the rhythm of my breathing, up and down, up and down...
I feel a palm close around my writs, big and calloused.
Demyan.
I take his hand and squeeze it hard like I could pass all of my anxiety to him through our joined palms. Valerie's right, I don't get to do this alone. My palm slacks as my breathing deepens. The jet starts to race down the runway, the air flowing through the wings, and finally, it angles toward the sky. I open my eyes once I feel the aircraft even out. Where in the sky, on a one-way flight to an entirely different environment than we're used to, but It's okay. We'll be fine. We've trained for this- I've trained for this- our entire lives. I righten my posture, letting Demyan's hand go, he resumes his game of cards and shoots me a glance. I connect my headphones to my phone and click on a reggeaton playlist, something fast, loud, and upbeat.
