Chapter 9

      Emie slept like a rock.  No dreams, no tossing and turning.  She remembered nothing.  When she woke up, it was slowly.  She felt a bit in a daze at first, but then came fully awake when she remembered where she was.  She wasn’t at home, warm in bed.  She was on a plane.  A private plane, actually.  With Tom.  The events of the past few hours came rushing back to her, bringing her fully awake.  She opened her eyes.  The cabin of the plane was dim.  A single, warm yellow light was on a few feet away above what looked like a sink area.  There was music playing, but it was lovely and quiet.         Tom was still sitting next to her.  His chair was mostly upright though, so from the angle she was laying at she could see part of the side of his face and his side.  He had a laptop open on a small table, and was busy typing on it.  Next to him in the cup holder was a bottle of beer, mostly full, condensation dripping slowly down the sides.         She didn’t move for a moment, watching him. His profile was strong, his sharp jaw line masculine against his nearly perfect, smooth skin.  His eyes moved back and forth across his computer screen.  She watching his hands move on the keyboard, quick and confident.  She had always been interested in hands, and his were mesmerizing.  Some people enjoyed good hair, or pretty eyes.  She had to admit, he was fine in both those departments. But Emie had always marveled at hands.  They were so important.  She thought they said a lot about a person.  Tom’s hands were strong, with long, graceful fingers.  They were expressive, almost their own entity.       Emie sat up a bit more, and this caught Tom’s eye.  He turned to her, a smile breaking out over his face.       “Good evening…I suppose.” He said, checking his watch.       “What time is it?”       “About three am.” He said softly.  She had only been asleep for a few hours.  She felt great though, much better than she had earlier.       “I’m so sorry I fell asleep.” She stretched slowly, reaching her arms up and moving her legs.       “Don’t apologize.  You were exhausted.” Tom closed his laptop and pushed the rolling table away.       Emie watched him for a moment.  He seemed a bit subdued, quiet. “You weren’t tired?”  She asked softly.       “No, not really.  My sleep schedule is a bit messed up from all the traveling.” He said, running a hand through his slightly unruly hair.  “Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?” He asked, standing up quickly as  if needing to move and do something.       “Some water would be great.” Emie watched him go over to the sink and a small bar.  Her head still felt a bit hazy as if she were still in a dream.  She watched Tom open a mini fridge, pulling things out.  From behind, she could see the long, strong shape of his legs.  He’d taken his cardigan off, and the thin, soft material of his tshirt clung to the tight muscles along his back and shoulders. She watched him, afraid if she took her eyes off him he’d disappear and she’d wake up in coach, squished between two old ladies for the next eleven hours.       Tom turned around, water bottle in one hand, a plate in the other.  He paused, just looking at her for a second.  It was almost as if he were surprised to see her there as well.  It made Emie ridiculously self conscious, but also worried that she looked a mess.  Emie looked down, wishing she had worn actual clothes.  She pulled the top of her camisole up, making sure she was at least covered. She knew he must think she was an absolute wreck.         “I ran out of the apartment.  I wear this to…sleep in most of the time.  I was running really late…obviously.” She plucked at the lacy straps of her top.  Tom looked down, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.       “You look adorable.  I like the way you look when you wake up.” He said the last sentence quietly, and it made Emie’s stomach squeeze in that newly familiar way.  Tom walked back over to where Emie was sitting, and he pulled the table he had been using closer to her.  He set the plate down.  It was full of cheese, crackers, and various fruit.  Emie felt her stomach rumble.       “This is lovely.  What are you going to eat?”She asked with a grin.       “Hmm, you’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?” He said, sitting down.  He pushed the button on the side of his chair, lowering his seat back a bit to be more comfortable.  Emie pulled her seat up to match his.  She tucked her legs under her, and relaxed.  She had noticed that Tom had taken his shoes off as well.       Tom took the water bottle, twisted the cap off and handed it to her.  He turned toward her.       “Thank you.” Emie said, taking a long drink.  He just watched her, as if mesmerized.  Emie looked away, setting the bottle on the indented cup holder on the table, next to his beer.       “My pleasure.” He said simply.         “So be honest, do you think I’m a complete mess? Or just a partial mess? I would be lying if I said I was normally very pulled together and organized.” She asked, forcing a smile.  Tom tilted his head, a smile breaking.       “I think you are lovely.” He said, diplomatically.  Emie laughed, taking a piece of pineapple off the plate he’d brought over.       “You sir, are the charming one.” She said between bites.  Tom grinned, but didn’t say anything. She ate the fruit, shaking her head. He tilted his head a bit, his eyes giving nothing away at the moment.  She reached for another piece of fruit, fighting off feeling self conscious about how he studied her.       “I’ve never met anyone like you.  If that’s what you’re asking.” Tom took a swig from his beer, and raised an eyebrow at her.  Emie licked her lips, a rush of nervousness coming over her.         “How much longer is the flight?” She asked quickly, changing the subject.  She pulled some grapes off the plate, hoping that perhaps she wouldn’t say anything stupid if her mouth was full.       “Is this like when small children ask ‘Are we there yet’?” Tom asked, his eyes glittering.  Emie smiled, shrugging.  “Well, I’m not very good at math, so pardon me if I’m wrong, but we’ve been in the air for about three hours.  It’s going to take us about 11.” Tom frowned, checking his watch.  “So that leaves us with…” He paused, looking up, as if he could see the figures in the air.  Emie chuckled.       “8 more hours.” She finished for him.  He grinned.       “Right.” He nodded.       “What can we do for eight hours?” Emie asked, speaking before she really thought it through.  Tom went quiet, his blue eyes steady on her.  For a moment, he looked as if he were a million miles away.  Emie immediately felt her cheeks start to burn.  Her thoughts went back to the kiss from the other day.  The way his mouth had felt on hers, his hands on her.  The way he had tasted and smelled.  She didn’t really have to wonder if Tom was thinking about it too.  She could almost tell he was.  He wasn’t saying anything, but his eyes went slowly from her face, to the low dip of her shirt, and then back.  It was quick, almost imperceptible, but she caught it. She felt a hot flush rush through her body.       “Have anything in mind?” Tom said, finally speaking.  His voice was low.  Emie shifted in her seat.       “I’m really good at…crossword puzzles.” She managed, swallowing hard.  Tom laughed then, loudly.  He reached over, taking her hand in his.       “I would love to do crossword puzzles with you for the next eight hours.” He said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.  He did this so casually, as if it were no big deal. But Emie was pretty sure that she’d never had anyone do something quite so sweet, and romantic before.  And he did this quite often.       She left her hand in his, resting gently across their seats and on Tom’s leg.  She leaned over, grabbing his beer and taking a few long swigs.  He watched her, smiling.       “What are we listening to?” Emie asked, remembering the soft, melodic music she’d woken up to.  It was playing lightly through the cabin.         “Bon Iver.” He said.  “Is it alright?”       “It’s very nice.” She smiled.  Tom stood up then, suddenly.  He towered over her, and reached down, holding out his hand.       “May I?” He asked.  Emie reached up, putting her hand in his.  He pulled her gently off her seat, and then she was in his arms.  Tom held her with one hand on her waist, the other holding hers.  They swayed gently to the music.  Without their shoes on, Tom was still much taller than Emie.  She kept in step with him, her hand pressed against his arm.  Tom smiled at her, then moved back, spinning her gently around.  Emie grinned, moving under his arm.       “I’ve never danced on a plane.” She laughed softly.  Tom only smiled, pulling her back close to him.  Standing so close, their bodies nearly touching, Emie could smell the last bit of cologne that seemed to linger on him.  Mostly he smelled clean, and so inviting.  She wanted to bury her face in his neck, but fought the urge.  Her hand on his arm, she could feel the strength in his arms, his smooth soft skin over solid, lean muscle. He was lean but he was powerful, and confident and she felt it in the way he moved.       “I’ve got to ask you. Something I’ve been wondering about since we met.” Tom pulled back, only slightly.  Just enough to look at her face. Emie looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.       “Sure.” She said softly.  Tom spun her around again, making her laugh.  It was hard not to.       “What happened the night we met?  With that bloke you were yelling at.” Tom asked, looking a bit serious.  Emie nearly choked, but then burst into laughter.       “Johnny? Jersey Johnny?”       “He did sound like he was from New Jersey.” Tom nodded.       “Why?”       “Well, you were really upset.  And then you…accused me of having a fake accent, and I just—“ Tom trailed off.  Emie shook her head.  They were moving slowly, though the plane cabin.  Their bare feet shuffling over the plush carpet.  Emie felt at ease, letting Tom lead her through the space.  He was a good dancer, even though they were barely moving.         “I really am sorry about that, Tom.  The thing is,” She paused, wondering how much to tell him.  Oh well, if he didn’t think she was a wreck already, he would find out soon enough. “I’ve been on some horrible dates lately.  Just terrible. And Johnny and I went out a few weeks ago.  It went really well.  He was sweet, and attentive and we had a lot in common.  He also…had an English accent.” She said.  Tom raised an eyebrow.       “Oh?”       “Yes.  So at the end of the date, he confessed that it was fake.  And that he was practicing for an audition—“ Emie sighed as Tom began to laugh.  She gasped, leaning back and smacking him in the arm, laughing as well. “It’s not funny!” She groaned.  Tom pulled her closer, grabbing her hands with his, to keep her from hitting him again.       “It’s terrible, Em.  It really is.  But it’s also hilarious.” He said gently.  He wrapped his arm around her waist again and then led her toward the other end of the plane. She stayed with him, slow dancing their way around.  Neither of them seemed to want to break the contact.       “So that’s why I was a bit upset when you came outside with your dashing English accent.  I thought you were one of my sister’s minions.” She sighed.  Tom leaned down then, without warning, his face dipping low and he brought his lips close to her ear.       “Do you still think I’m one of your sister’s minions?” He asked, his voice low and throaty in her ear.  She swallowed, closing her eyes for a split second, feeling like she could melt into him.         “No…but I’m not sure what you are, Tom.” Her voice barely over a whisper.  Neither of them moved.  They stood still in the middle of the plane.  Tom had her pulled up against his chest, one hand still on her waist.  His other hand was entwined in hers, pulled up against his chest and tucked between them.        “Do you want to know what I think you are?” He said, his lips still right by her ear.  Emie swayed into him, no longer able to fight the urge to be closer.  He didn’t move as she nodded her head.       “I think you are extraordinary.” He said. “I think you are the best thing I’ve laid eyes on in a very, very long time.” He said this slowly.  Emie pressed her lips together, not daring to move and look at him.         “Even when I’m making a fool of myself? Even when I’m sprawled in the dirt, or crying in an airport?” She whispered.  Tom chuckled then, softly.  She felt the rumble in his chest.         “Even more so then.” He said.  She could hear the smile in his voice.         “Tom.” She said his name as a bit of a warning.  She wasn’t sure where this could possibly go.  She was terribly afraid that she would be willing to go where ever he wanted to take her.       “Emie.” He answered.  And then, without warning, he tilted her back quickly, dipping her. His arm supported her behind her back and Emie felt one of her legs instinctually tip up.  She giggled, gasping as she let her head fall back.  Tom laughed, his strong, unselfconscious, open laugh.  She let herself laugh, trusted in his strength as she leaned back against him.  He was so surprising.  He made her feel so nervous and unsure at times, but then would completely surprise her and make her feel more at ease than she could remember feeling with another person in quite some time.  Maybe ever.       Tom lifted her back, pulling her into him.  Emie let him, this time wrapping her arm around his neck.  He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers.       “You’re so serious, Em.  I can practically hear the cogs turning sometimes.” He said, his brow furrowing slightly.  She met his eyes, shrugging a bit.       “I know.”       “Don’t think so hard.” He whispered.       “I’ll try.”       “Let me help.” Tom said.  Then, he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.  Emie responded immediately, as if she had been waiting for him to kiss her.  And she had.