Of all the things I expected to happen on my twenty-second birthday, sitting on a privet plane sure as fuck wasn't one of them. But here I am, thirty-thousand feet in the air with a goddamn champagne glass in my hand.
I've never seen anything so luxe in my life — pristine cream carpet, polished black walls, twelve rows of spacious leather seats that lead to a bathroom and a fully furnished bedroom in the back of the plane. Though, out of all of it, my eyes are fixed on the dark velvet ceiling that seems to resemble a midnight sky, the minuscule lights embedded into the fabric a map of the stars.
It's fucking incredible. And I might actually be able to enjoy it if Luke would stop fidgeting for two goddamn seconds. His knee is bouncing erratically, his thumb drumming a concordant tempo against his armrest, and that godforsaken click of the window shade inching up for him to peer out into the mass of clouds for three seconds only to close it again is driving me fucking insane.
It would be enough for me to want to kill him if I wasn't already used to his fight anxiety. Usually, if we fly out at night for away games, he'll pop a pill and pass out before we even hit the air, but since his medicine usually has him out for the rest of the night, and I suspect he has no intention of sleeping when we land — wherever the fuck that might be — he's raw-dogging his flight anxiety.
After two years of sitting beside him on team flights, I know what he needs from me:
A distraction from the anxiety
or
Silence to suffer in peace
And since I've already tried to distract him by showing him a Reddit thread made by a group of college basketball fans detailing why they think Luke will be a better first-draft pick than Grayson Wilder — a link I've kept in my Luke's having a meltdown on a plane folder in my notes app — and he barely grunted in response as he wiped his sweaty palms down his black jean-clad thighs, I'm officially throwing in the towel.
I have no idea where this plane is taking us, but for Luke's sake, I hope it's somewhere close.
"You going to finish that?"
He doesn't wait for my response before he swipes my champagne glass and knocks it back like a cheap shot of tequila. His cheeks have grown pallid since we hit cruising altitude, and his knee bounces even faster as he wipes his hands down his thighs again, his eyes flicking around the cabin before lingering on the seats two rows ahead. The seats where Olivia and Thompson are currently watching a movie, their shared headphones split between them.
Luke's had a hard time taking his eyes off of her since she boarded the plane.
She was late — came straight from her volleyball practice that ran longer than it was supposed to. We were all hanging out on the plane when her 2012 Honda Civic pulled into the parking lot of the private airport three minutes before we were scheduled for take-off. She sprinted across the tarmac in nothing but a sports bra, Nike Pro spandex shorts, black crew socks — her Slides clutched in her hand — and the kind of smile that rivaled the sun setting behind her. She was radiating an electric magnetism, an excitement so palpable I felt it charge the energy in the air around us as she climbed the stairs to the private plane, eyes wide as she took in the pure fucking opulence of the cabin. Her eyes lingered on the velvet midnight sky above until Luke walked down the aisle of the plane and stopped in front of her. He grabbed her bag from her shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, and then her eyes finally dropped from the ceiling art and met his, the tempestuous storm that always surges beneath her eyes whenever he's near flashed a little brighter at whatever he'd just said.
His smile was wide and wicked as he took a step back, hooking her bag over his shoulder. He nodded for her to follow him, and from where I was sitting, it looked a hell of a lot like an invitation.
She followed him through the door in the back of the plane, and when he came back out a few minutes later, his smile even wider than before, seconds before the sound of a shower's running water echoed softly through the main cabin.
Now, Olivia's braiding her freshly washed hair, her skin damn near glowing from the shimmer in her body wash catching the golden waves of sunlight streaming in from the open windows behind her. Her laugh echoes around the cabin as she ties off the bottom of her two french braids, and for a moment, for the three heartbeats that her laugh surrounds us, Luke's shoulders relax.
My chest tightens at the longing in his eyes as he pulls off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his anxiously tousled blond hair, tugging at the strands with a frustrated groan before sliding his hat on backward. I can practically hear the thoughts screaming in his head — off limits, she's off limits.
"California. We're going to California, aren't we?" Josie beams, stopping at our aisle, her champagne glass pressed to her lips as she takes a small sip.
"No." Luke doesn't even look over at her as he slides the window cover up an inch to look out at the clouds before letting it slide back into place and leaning back into his seat. His eyes are closed, and his knee has picked up pace.
Josie's gaze falls to Luke's knee and her brow twitches slightly, the excitement in her eyes dimming as she meets my eyes.
He's an anxious flier?
I can read it in her eyes as if she leaned over and whispered it in my ear, and when I nod, running a hand through my hair to cover the silent interaction, her shoulders fall.
If I learned anything on this flight, it's that my girlfriend is not an anxious flier. She's been up and down the aisle of this plane to sit with Olivia and Thompson for a while before going back to sit with Halle in her own seat, and she even hung out with West and Coop for a bit while they were playing some kind of racing game on their phones. Not to mention the time she's spent on my lap at the beginning of the flight, pressing twenty-two sweet as fuck kisses to my lips and cheeks and nose. A display I would have rolled my eyes at if it were anyone else, but with Josie, I simply let my hands fall to her ass and enjoyed the feel of her in my arms as her sweet candy kisses peppered my face. Especially when the final kiss landed on my lips, which I deepend instantly, needing to taste her tongue and hear the surprised moan sound in her throat.
Glancing up at her now, I know I'm not about to get another round of affection when she slowly settles herself down on my lap, looping her arm around my shoulders. Her eyes are fixed on Luke.
I catch Olivia looking back from her seat two rows up. Her eyes are also fixed on Luke, and for the first time in a long time, they aren't brimming with anger or resentment. They're softer. And I have a feeling it's because, while he's trying his best to hold it in, he still looks like he's about to start breathing into a paper bag.
Josie doesn't say anything, she simply grabs his empty champagne glass and places it onto the cart of beverages in the aisle before interlacing her fingers with his.
His knee freezes mid-jump, and he cracks an eye open to consider their interlaced fingers.
When he looks up at her, the anxiety radiating from him seems a little less volatile.
"You see the private plane and now you're interested, huh?" he snorts, but his cheek twitches as he takes another peek out of the window.
Josie rolls her eyes, and I can feel her trying to pull her hand away, but his grip on her fingers tightens, refusing to let go.
Her smile is soft and warm enough to send a ripple of warmth across me as I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck. Her long hair falls around her shoulders in soft waves, a long red ribbon that matches her dress braided into the shorter strands of hair that are pulled away from her face. I slide my fingers into the soft strands, tugging gently enough to brighten her smile.
"So, not California," Josie muses, taking another small sip of her champagne. Her fingers are still intertwined with Luke's, and like the rising sun stretching across the sea at daybreak, her energy pulls a certain warmth back into his eyes that I haven't seen since we stepped foot onto this plane. The color that's been leached from his face is back after a few steadying breaths, though Josie doesn't let go of his hand just yet. Instead, she leans back in my arms, cuddling me even closer as she narrows her eyes in thought.
She's trying to make him feel comfortable while the anxiety slowly eases from his body, to make their intertwined fingers as casual as if they were just sitting beside each other, untouching. And when she turns back to him, her brows raising playfully, I know it's just to pull back his smile. "Are we staying in Washington? You didn't give us much to go off of so I packed for anything. And by anything I mean I pretty much just brought my bikinis."
Luke's lips quirk at that, but he stays quiet. A vault no one can seem to crack.
They all got a heads-up about this entire thing — about the flight and one night stay wherever it is we're going. I, on the other hand, did not. And after being physically abducted by half of my team while I was trying to sleep, I ended up at the airport, handcuffed and blindfolded.
The small flat screens on the back of every headrest have a flight map button on the bottom control panel, although Luke must have requested for the pilot to lock the feature because every time I've tried to press it, it brings me to a black screen with the McConnell Air logo — the same logo that's hand-stitched onto each leather seat.
A muted ding sounds around the cabin and Luke glances toward the cockpit as the pilot's voice echoes around us from the sound system. "We're thirty minutes out, Mr. McConnell."
Luke stands up, his fingers untwining from Josie's as he steps around her and rounds the seats toward the cabinets where we all loaded up our bags. I catch the devilish smile on his face, and when I glance back at Josie, her own smile has brightened as she watches Luke's usual mischievous energy flare back to life.
She's a healing balm, wrapped up in sunlit smiles and silken ribbons. I pull her closer, brushing my lips just under the curve of her ear to tell her just that, "You're fucking incredible, you know that? A fucking angel. A tangible piece of heaven right here in my arms."
Her smile widens. I don't have to see her face to know it.
"Does that mean I'm here to save you?" She whispers, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head back until I'm looking up at her. "To pull you back from the dark side?"
I consider that, watching the setting sun dance across her features, kissing her cheeks, and bathing her in golden light. I reach up, caressing my thumb against the rosy hue on the apple of her cheek, too jealous of the light to let it have her all to itself.
"I think I'd like that," I admit, my eyes tracing her features. "Though I don't know how far we'd get. The dark has had its claws in me for a while, Jos. Not sure it's willing to ever let me go."
Her smile fades into something softer, more contemplative before she leans in and whispers against my lips. "Should we place a bet, then? To see how this one ends?"
I smile against her lips, laughing at the gentle nip of her teeth that tugs on my lower lip. "And what are we betting here? What are the stakes?" I ask, eyes still closed as I pull her even closer, sliding my tongue into her eager mouth. She kisses me back, combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck before using her grip there to pull my lips from hers.
There's the flush, that fucking rosy golden hue under her skin that has my heart careening a little faster.
Fuck, she's gorgeous.
Effervescent.
Unbelievable.
And all fucking mine.
She catches my gaze, pulling my stare up from her cheeks to her eyes again. They're glimmering like two pools of molten honey, and I watch them dance under the stream of sunlight from the uncovered windows behind us.
"The stakes," she murmurs, brushing her thumb along the curve of my ear before her fingers delve back into my hair, her fingernails grazing my scalp gently. I lean into the touch, and she smiles wide, well aware of how fucking much I love when she does this. "The stakes are whatever you want. Name the price and it's yours. That's how convinced I am that I can pull you back to the light. That's how convinced I am that you're not destined for a life beneath the shadows."
My pulse hesitates at her words, skipping out of beat as I recognize the sincerity shining in her eyes. She genuinely believes that. I wish I had that much confidence in my future. I wish I saw what she did.
I try to swallow the emotion that rises in my throat, but my words still come out throaty. "A blank check bet. That's a dangerous wager to make, Guerrero, you sure you don't want to pull out?"
She never breaks my stare as she shakes her head. "I'm sure."
She leans back enough to hold up her hand between us, her pinky outstretched. "I bet that you, Micah Costa, will live a life basking in the light. A life so drenched in sunlight that you carry that glow of it everywhere you go. I bet that someday you'll think back to this moment and smile, knowing that I was right and you were wrong, and how happy you are because of it. And when I win, I will cash that blank check for whatever I want. Although, as long as I'm still right here in your arms, I can't imagine what more I could want."
I intertwine my pinky with hers. "As much as I'd love to live in that fairy tale with you, Jos, I'm too pragmatic to actually believe it. So, I bet that I'll always be surrounded by the dark. It'll be as permanent of a fixture in my life as the ink on my skin. And when I win..." I hesitate, though my smile gives me away and her cheeks flare before I even say it. "When I win, Josie, I will cash that blank check to have you naked in my bed, and I will take you hard and fast, so rough the imprint of your nails will be as permanent as my tattoos, because when you come —" I grab her chin, brushing my thumb across her bottom lip, my eyes tracing the pretty pink path. "When you come, it's the only time I get to see that pretty light. It's the only time I get to taste it. And I cash that check, plan on feasting on it."
Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her cheek burning bright, and I smile when her lips part and her hand still knotted in my hair tightens, pulling me closer.
She's turned on. I'd bet any amount of money that if I slid my hand up her dress right now her panties would be wet and she'd part her thighs for me, rocking her hips toward me to slide my fingers inside of her.
I'm tempted to, but instead, I lift our intertwined pinkies and lean forward, coaxing her forward with a heady stare as we both seal the bet with a kiss on our thumbs.
She curves her body against mine, her lips on mine when the sound of Luke clearing his throat echoes around us. It's loud enough to catch the attention of the entire cabin, and when Josie pulls away, her eyes widening, I catch Luke standing in the aisle holding up a familiar black Nike toiletry bag.
It's small, inconspicuous, and filled with weed.
My eyes light up like it's Christmas morning. I haven't smoked since season started, and since we were just tested last night before practice, we probably won't be tested again for another six weeks.
If we do test positive, we're benched until we test clean. But we've done this enough to know how to flush it out of our systems in a few days. It's not fun, but fuck, is it worth it.
Luke zips open the bag and I try not to smile at the way Josie's nose twitches at the pungent scent, her brows cinching together curiously as she watches Luke pull out the grinder and rolling paper. I have a feeling she's never been around weed, let alone smoked it, but she seems more curious than anything as she watches me take the grinder from Luke and use my leather armrest as a flat surface to start rolling the joint.
West and Coop have already left their seats to join us, and Olivia even pulls out her headphones and turns around in her seat to watch me work. Blondie, who I'd be willing to bet would be more likely to narc on us than take a hit stays in her seat a few rows behind.
I glance up at Josie, laughing softly at her wide-eyed expression as she watches me bring the rolled joint to my mouth, her eyes meeting mine as I lick the paper with soft, deliberate strokes of my tongue to seal it tight.
Her cheeks flare, entranced. I've rolled and smoked more joints than I can count, and I smile a little at the novelty of it all, the curiosity shining so clearly in her eyes.
I catch the lighter Luke tosses me, slide the joint between my lips, and light her up.
I inhale deeply, reveling in the feel of the smoke filling my lungs. Passing it off to Luke, I keep my eyes on Josie, studying the tentative interest sparking to life in her eyes.
I raise a brow, a silent question that echoes loudly between us — do you want to try it?
She hesitates, her eyes flicking between me and my teammates, lingering on the cherry burning as Luke takes a long pull.
Finally, she shakes her head.
I nod, threading my fingers through hers as I drop my head back to blow out the smoke away from her. It rises into the air, circulating above before being pulled into the air vents above.
When I glance back down at Josie again, her eyes are trained on my lips, that hesitant curiously sparking back to life.
"Hmm?" I rest my hand on her thigh, letting my fingers slide under the hem to brush her upper thighs before gripping her hip. My thumb brushes the scar there, a reminder of the last time I pulled her out of her comfort zone.
Her hands, small and fragile and so damn soft, cup my cheeks and draw my lips close to hers. I lean forward, letting her guide me where she wants as I wrap my hand around her waist to hold her close.
"Maybe," she murmurs, close enough to taste the strawberry gum on her breath. "Maybe just one taste." Her lips pull up, and I catch her playful smile before she connects our lips, tentative and curious, so slow I can almost feel my pulse slowing in time with each curious brush of her perfect candy lips.