Brace For Landing

The gentle hum of the plane cradled the cabin in white noise. It was the kind that dulled time, making everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.

With the clink of plastic cutlery signalling the end of the small in-flight meal, Mya, feeling both relaxed and a bit bored, turned her head to look at the man beside her.

He was handsome in that unpolished, not really trying sort of way. The sleeves of his blue button-down shirt clung to his forearms. Stubble that whispered of a carefree weekend getaway. But he was frowning now, eyebrows furrowed as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wrestle with the jammed tray table in front of him. It just refused to click back into place.

To make things worse, it appears that the half-finished cup of coffee held between his knees had tipped slightly, leaving a gentle brown arc blooming on his napkin and a splatter of droplets on his shirt cuff.

"Looks like you're having a moment," Mya said, her voice low and amused.

Michael glanced over, sheepish. "I swear this tray has it out for me. I tried being nice. Now I'm trying intimidation."

She laughed. "And how's that working for you?"

"About as well as balancing the coffee did," he said, eyeing the spot on his sleeve.

"Would you like a hand?" She offered to help him, moving slightly closer, her scent of white florals and vanilla following her.

"I'm not too proud to accept help from a beautiful stranger."

"Flattery before rescue. Bold move," she teased, reaching over. With a gentle twist and press in just the right place, the tray clicked back up with a satisfying snap. She smiled, triumphant. "There."

Michael blinked. "I'm convinced you have secret training in aviation sorcery."

"Just a woman who may or may not have had a similar battle on her last flight," she said with a grin. Then, noticing the coffee stain again, she reached into her bag and handed him a tiny pack of wipes. "Here. Emergency kit."

"Brilliant and prepared. Should I be taking notes?"

"I charge per wipe," she replied, crossing her legs and turning back slightly, amused.

"Well," he said, dabbing at the spot, "would you accept a cup of coffee as payment?"

"Make it two and you have a deal!"

"It's a date!" Michael said with a grin.

And just like that, the flirtation bloomed. Natural, easy, and wrapped in humour. Michael shared that he'd just come from visiting his older sister in Cascais. She mentioned her conference in Lisbon and her love for exploring cities without a map.

They shared their thoughts on the grilled porco preto and the custard tarts. A yes, yes for her. No, and yes, for him. She shared with him the story of a time when she found herself locked out of her hotel room, wearing a not-so-flattering nightgown.

He casually confessed to having left his suitcase behind at the baggage claim. Twice. "In my defence, I really needed to use the bathroom!"

Their laughter flowed effortlessly, and with it, the subtle joy of chemistry building in real-time during the flight. Career aspirations, childhood friends, scandalous teenage behaviour - it all came out! They remained blissfully unaware of how swiftly time slipped away until the flight attendant's voice broke the spell, announcing their imminent descent.

"So, where are you heading?" she asked, returning her seat to its fully upright position.

"Clapham."

"Really?!"

"Yep."

"I'm in Balham, darling."

His eyebrows arched in surprise. "That's… just a short stroll away."

"Or 3 minutes on the Northern Line."

He asked nervously. "So, about that coffee?"

"Saturday?" she enquired, her voice smooth and inviting.

"Drop me a message," he said, offering his phone with a flicker of hope in his heart.

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Chapter 2 coming soon: Still Feeling the Altitude