Dante

T h r e e

Skye's POV

"Can I decorate the house?" I ask. I am so pushing it right now but whatever. There is no point having a house with nothing in it. Maybe it is still better to go home then to not be able to afford a bed for my house.

"That is asking for a lot, hobo. I'm already being nice considering you're a complete stranger."

I nod in agreement. "Okay, I'll just take the ticket. I'm sorry for being annoying. I'd rather go home and try to let my mom take me back. I miss my bed and my family and..." I sigh and look out the window, at the pretty white clouds.  I miss my life - my old life, but I know that no matter what, I'm not going to get it back. What if my mom won't let me into the house? That should be illegal, right? If only I was under eighteen.

"Okay, do you want to go home or do you want stuff for your house? Which one do you want more?"

I bite my lip. A part of me really wants to go home but I know if I do, I'll have nothing. Instead of being a hobo in Spain or France, I'd be a hobo in America.

I could get a job, but I probably won't be able to afford an apartment. "Probably stuff for the house, but it is asking for way too much. It's not about what I want. The ticket is fine."

I'm so annoying. I wish I was as perfect as those girls in books and movies, but I am probably nothing like them. They're flawless and here I am; an ugly and irritating potato-like creature.

"Sleep with me and I'll give you whatever you want," he offers.

"Like a sugar daddy?" I ask.

He laughs. "Except I'm twenty one."

"Okay, sure," I say. He's hot to a point where I'd probably sleep with him for free. "But why? I'm sure you could get any girl for free..." He is way out of my league.

He chuckles slightly. "Thanks but um, honestly, I'm a virgin and I don't really know what to do... you know, while..." I nod, understanding what he means. "I don't really want to hook up with girls I like yet because what if they think I'm an idiot for not knowing what to do and then they don't find me attractive anymore."

Someone comes out of the back door pushing a metal cart. They bring it to where the stranger and I are sitting. "Any drinks or meals for you?" he asks.

"Just water," the stranger says.

"Me, too, please."

The guy nods and takes out two empty glasses and fills it, then places it on the little table next to our seats. "If you need anything, just call." He walks away.

"But I'm sure girls won't mind if you're a virgin, you're still hot." I say and he smiles. "So now you have a slave and a stripper? Are you in the mafia or something? Is that how you afford this jet?" I ask.

He shrugs and lifts up his glass of water, and takes a slow sip. When he puts the glass back down, my eyes don't leave his lips.

They're wet and pink and lord, they look so good. How can God even make someone this attractive?

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Do you want to kiss me?" I frown and look at him in confusion. "You're staring at my lips. That usually means that you want them on you."

I panic for a second. I need to stop staring at this guy or he is going to think I'm in love with him. "Uh, no. Y-You have a pen mark on your face," I lie. He doesn't need to know that I like his lips. I like his everything.

"Oh, shit." He starts wiping around his lips and I laugh.

"Lean forward," I tell him and I lean closer to him. He does as told and I run my finger across his bottom lip. Ha ha, I've never been this grateful for an imaginary pen mark.

Our faces are only centimetres apart and I notice his eyes go down to my lips. "Do you want to kiss me?" I tease.

"Yes," he admits and I raise my eyebrows, surprised at his reply. I quickly lean back and look away. "Relax, I'm messing with you. I just met you, I wouldn't kiss you."

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I ask.

"Yeah, it in the back on the left. Just remember, you're not Tom Cruise so don't try some Mission Impossible shit because if you jump, you'll die."

I roll my eyes and stand up, then make my way to the back of the plane, and lock myself in the toilets.

I sit down with the lid of the toilet closed and stare at the white door in front of me. Alone and in silence, my mind starts to wonder.

I can't believe my mother abandoned me. I can't believe I am willing to sleep with a complete stranger for money. I can't believe I might never see my mom or my family again.

Would my mom ever even wonder if I'm okay? Would she ever feel bad if something happened to me? I wish I could ask her why she left me.

Reality hits me like a bucket of ice cold water and tears start to fall down my cheeks. Nothing will ever be the same. I'm basically a prostitute and I won't get to say goodbye to my friends back home or my brother.

I take tissues and hold them over my eyes, hoping that I'll stop crying. I hate crying. It feels pathetic and desperate, even if I'm alone.

Maybe I should just jump out of the plane. It will solve my problems because then I won't have to care about any of this. It will just be over.

"No," I whisper. "I'll get through this shit no matter what."

I stay in the bathroom for a really long time, staying quiet and taking deep breaths. I guess this is the funeral for my old life, being held on a toilet in the sky. I can only mourn everything I've lost and move on, because it seems to be my only option right now.

I throw the tissues in the little trash can next to the toilet and wash my hands then walk out the bathroom.

When I walk back to the centre of the plane, where the seats are, I find the stranger lying with his head back and his eyes shut.

That's probably a good idea. I sit on the couch and throw my legs over one arm rest and lean my head on the other arm rest.

The good thing about being short is that you can fit anywhere and it's never uncomfortable to sleep. Plus, if I'm ever in a high speed chase, I could just hide in a crowd and they would never find me.

•=•=•

Yup. How's the quarantine going guys?

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