Strings and Schemes

Chapter 28

"So, this is how the other half live?" I say, taking in the view of the private airport.

Zayn laughs, flushing, "I try not to flash it around."

I smile, "You don't, I just like getting a rise out of you."

He smiles back at me, "I hope you know just how happy I am to be able to share this with you."

I nod, "it truly is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me."

He kisses me, no fear, no hesitation, no part of him that doesn't feel not wrapped up in us.

We board the plane and Zayn leads us to our seats, hand in hand. Knowing looks from the stewardess' who I can tell from all of one glance know exactly who he is, and are probably interested in whoever the fuck I am to him, too.

We sit in 5A & B, and Zayns' childlike joy comes out, "Its lie down flat seats!"

I laugh, "You act like you've never flown first class before, Jaan."

He grins, "I'm a recluse, what can I say?"

He reaches down and finds the pre-packaged set up from the airline and rips it open, items flying everywhere.

"Look! An eye mask, oh wait, headphones, and ear plugs! And PJs!" He can't contain himself, and I can't help but love him all the more for his down to earth nature, never getting used to the luxury that comes with the lifestyle he leads.

"Don't act like you haven't been in first class before," he shoots me a look that rivals Gollum.

I laugh, "Actually, I haven't done a whole lot of it - budgetary constraints."

It's the truth. Business class is only allowed for flights over 9 hours, and even then if you can get a direct flight it's encouraged to book economy, or economy premium to save the State Department much needed money. Though, on the odd occasion when we've needed to get back stateside without warning, or when no other seats were available I've gotten the pleasure of flying first class.

He looks at me shocked, "there really are no perks to the diplomat lifestyle?"

I laugh, "if you enjoy the work, I think that's usually enough for the people working in it. For me, absolutely not."

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "yeah, I can see why you don't like it."

We settle into our seats and lay them down next to one another and whisper sweat nothings the whole time, only to come up for air when we want to refill our champagne. We arrive to a bustling Athens; not our end destination, apparently.

We stop at a car rental company, Zayn, still on a high from the flight, is determined to drive. Mistake #1.

At the car rental counter, he squints at the attendant. "Do you have anything... fun?"

The guy barely looks up. "Fun?"

"Something fast."

I nudge him. "Babe, Greek roads are cliffs."

"I'm an excellent driver," he argues.

Mistake #2.

We end up with a tiny, offensively yellow Fiat. Zayn stares at it in betrayal.

"This is not fast."

"It's also the only automatic left, unless you want to drive stick."

He groans, yanking the door open. Immediately, he smacks into the steering wheel.