Page 20 of The Law of Attraction
“That’s a lie.”
“How would you know?”
“Because it’s obvious. Your kinesics are an open book.”
“My what?”
“Body language. Your cheek is twitching, you keep reaching up to touch the suprasternal notch at the base of your throat, and that’s the third time you’ve tried to count that row of stitches and had to start over.”
Maybe she’d never been good at hiding her feelings. Maybe she’d only thought she was good at it because most people didn’t look at her closely. When they looked at her at all, they only tended to see what was on the surface. But not Adam, for some reason. It was unsettling how much he saw.
Olivia’s fingers tightened on her knitting needles. “I’m uncomfortable because I’m squeezed into a tiny seat in a flying tin can that smells like portable toilets and fast food farts, okay?”
“That’s not it,” he said. “I mean, it does smell like farts in here, but that’s not why you’re uncomfortable.”
“You don’t know as much about me as you think you do.”
Except he did. Somehow, he seemed to know everything about her, just by looking at her.
He really needed to stop looking at her, or he’d figure out the secret she didn’t want him to know: that she’d liked him, and he’d crushed more than just her ego last week. He’d crushed her heart as well.
“Why won’t you just admit it?” he persisted.
“Because it’s not true. Can you drop it, please?”
“Fine.” He faced forward and fastened his seat belt.
They’d started preparing for takeoff, thank god. The sooner they got off the ground, the sooner Olivia would be released from this metal prison. They were only a few hours into this cursed trip, and she already felt like one of the characters in No Exit, condemned to spend eternity being tortured by her companion in the afterlife. Hell is other people, indeed.
As they taxied to the runway, she couldn’t help noticing that Adam was staring straight ahead. He wasn’t reading his phone or a tablet like nearly everyone else on the plane. He wasn’t doing anything.
Who did that? Just sat there staring at nothing instead of reading?
His hands were clenched on the armrests, and she wondered if maybe he was a bad flyer as well as being uncomfortable in crowds. He better not get airsick on her. She snuck a glance at his face. His color looked okay, but he seemed tense, like he was bracing himself for something terrible.
“You all right?” she asked. “You’re not scared of flying, are you?”
He shook his head slightly. “I just don’t like takeoffs and landings. I’ll be fine once we get in the air.”
“Okay.” She went back to her knitting. But as the plane picked up speed in preparation for takeoff, she threw another glance his way, just to make sure he wasn’t going to ralph. He still had the same look of determined resignation, so she figured she was probably safe.
To be honest, she wasn’t a huge fan of takeoffs and landings either. The g-force was unpleasant, and the bumpiness made it impossible to focus on anything without triggering a headache. She laid her knitting in her lap and closed her eyes as the wheels left the ground and the plane hurtled itself into the sky.
The sensation was an odd mix of exhilarating and terrifying with a side order of uncomfortable jouncing and jolting. Sort of like riding a rollercoaster, but without the spectacular views and the feel of the wind in your face.
Adam probably didn’t like rollercoasters any more than he liked flying.
Gradually, the plane leveled off and the unpleasant sensation passed. Adam seemed to relax as they gained altitude, his fingers uncurling from the armrest and his shoulders loosening, until it was like he’d never been tense at all.
Olivia picked up her knitting again, and by the time the flight attendants began moving around the cabin, Adam was so chill she could almost believe she’d imagined the whole thing. He’d never been nervous at all. What a ridiculous idea, that someone as cool and confident as Adam could be afraid of flying.
And yet, she remembered it. It had happened.
Now that he wasn’t a ball of tension anymore, his broad shoulders had spread out, bleeding over the invisible barrier into her seat. The top of his arm was pressed against the top of her arm, and her skin felt warm where it touched him through his shirt. His warmth sank into her and traveled straight to her chest. It made her body feel tense but also somehow like syrup. Viscous and slow-moving. Warm, oozing, and entirely too sweet.
And now she could feel his eyes on her again. He was looking at her in that too-perceptive way he had. It was almost like a physical touch. Like a finger stroking over her cheek. It was practically a caress. The tiny hairs on the surface of her skin were bristling where his eyes bored into her, and she was too hot inside her shirt. Her bra felt like it was strangling her, like the straps were too tight, abrading her skin and digging into it all at once.
The tension was unbearable. He was about to say something. She could feel it building in the air between them. And whatever it was, she was certain she wasn’t going to like it.
