Tuesday, June 29, 2010

On the Plane...


  1. I stared down the long center aisle, knowing I was the only one on this plane for a reason. The only one stupid enough to board this plane. And the only one who wouldn’t make it off.

    I walked forward cautiously, keeping my eye on each row. He could be lurking anywhere, crouched and ready to strike. I could already hear him laughing in my head. He knew he would win this battle. He was overly confident, and that was the only hope I had.

    I was at the last row when Tyce appeared in the service corridor. He leaned against the wall and smirked at me. “So glad you made it,” he crooned. “I would have hated to toast this victory by myself.” He handed me a tall glass of champagne that bubbled up anxiously, popping at the surface and gently misting across my painfully calm face.

    I leaned in toward him, letting my hand rest on his broad, solid chest, and I felt him letting his guard down. Finally, he was repeating in his mind, satisfied. It gave me that much more pleasure when I whispered into his ear, “I wouldn’t drink with you if you were the last animate being in the universe.”

    His entire body tensed and his jaw tightened as I slowly lifted myself off of him and leaned back against the wall facing him. He tried to keep his composure despite the fierce anger I could feel boiling under his skin. It always surprised me – how his physical reactions were the embodiment of his mood. Only moments ago his heartbeat and rhythmic breathing were chanting a victory march, and now his blood rushed headlong through his veins, and heat radiated from him like a newly lit burner. He labored desperately to maintain the appearance of nonchalance.

    “Oh, don’t be difficult, Charlotte. It isn’t attractive on you.” He looked me up and down carefully, pausing to linger on my bright blue eyes, glowing with intense concentration on his slightest move. “No, that’s not true. It’s incredibly appealing to me – seeing you angry. It makes me think of………a tiger.”

    I didn’t like the way he said it. His choice of words was too knowing, too familiar with what I’d seen in Devon. With what I knew to be true of Devon. I worked exhaustively to push him from my mind. His piercing, hazel eyes. His angular jaw. His violently black hair shooting in short spikes around his intense, bronze face. I didn’t want to think of him. I didn’t want him to realize I was here. And he would. He would sense me seeing him if I didn’t— I blocked his fierce features from my mind.

    “But you’re not quite a tiger, are you?” Tyce had broken my focus, and I was trying to regain control of my expression. I could feel my full pink lips pulling into a taut line. My nostrils flared.

    (Continued in next post)

  2. (Continued from above)

    I loosened my set jaw and raised an eyebrow at him, coercing myself to relax. “No, not quite.” He had no idea. “Listen, it’s been a long day, and I’m getting the feeling that it’s going to be a longer night.”

    “Yes, I daresay it will be.” His British accent caught me off guard when it sounded charming like that, nothing like who I knew him to be. He winked at me, and with a shiver of disgust, I recovered. If Devon saw this— I stopped, forcing the thought away.

    “And since it will, I’d like to freshen up if I could.” I bowed my head just slightly. The more I could appear acquiescent and reverent in his presence, the more likely I would have a chance…

    “Oh, I am sorry, my dear, but that may be a bit of a problem.” He grinned evilly. “Occupado, see.” Tyce ripped the door open, and with an angry thud, someone crashed into the wall that he’d just been leaning against. The apparently lifeless body fell heavily to the floor as the plane’s engines roared to life, deafening me.

    Sudden forward motion jostled me, and I lost my balance, tumbling toward the back of the plane, straight into Tyce who waited with eager arms to catch me. But it was then – as I fell backward into him and his hands reached out to grab my hips and hold me steady – it was then that I saw the deep crimson scars wrapped at an angle around the man’s partially exposed shoulder, reaching out toward me under his close-fitting, sandstone t-shirt. I threw myself from Tyce’s grasp and fell to the floor. The tears were already rolling down my cheeks as I traced the blood red lines on his arm. I knew before I removed the thick ski mask what I would find there – jet black hair, severe, knowing eyes and soft red lips that had given life to mine. Devon.

  3. Jennifer, that was amazing! Loved it!!! You had me on the edge of my seat. ;)

  4. Go Jenn!!!!

    So awesome to see you on here. I love how the champagne bubbled up anxiously. Great image to parallel the scene!

    Well done.

  5. Thanks, guys! 'preciate the encouragement. :)