Page 23 of Friendly Skies
“It’s six thirty in the morning,” Darius said.
“And you know what I mean. If I have to wait around for someone to get his head out of his ass…” Ricky rolled his eyes. “Why put myself through that?” He shrugged. “At least I finally know what’s going on with you and Luis.”
Ricky’s phone buzzed at that moment, sparing either Darius or Greg the need to respond to his outburst. One look at his phone, and Ricky cursed. He picked up his mug and gave Darius a thin-lipped smile. “While I’d love to stick around and listen to the drama, I’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t wait up for me.” With that, Ricky turned and exited the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Greg asked.
“No idea.” Darius shook his head. “Anyway…”
“Yeah. Anyway. I don’t know what to tell you except you’re going to have to talk it out with Luis. And I know that’s not what you want to hear, but…”
Darius nodded. “But…”
The front door slammed as Ricky exited the condo.
“He’s still a weird one,” Greg said.
“I know. He loosened up a bit yesterday when Luis and I took him shopping, but then we got home, and he holed up in his room.”
They chatted a bit more about Ricky and work and when Greg might be back in LA. When they said goodbye half an hour later, Darius felt relaxed enough to take a nap. But he took it on the couch because he couldn’t face sleeping in his bed alone.
Chapter five
Luis
Luis was still thinkingabout the way Darius had pretended to be asleep that morning when they landed at JFK for an hour layover before continuing on to Brussels. The lack of messages from Darius was a dead giveaway that something wasn’t sitting right with his best friend, and Luis was pretty sure he knew what it was.
As he stood in the rear galley watching passengers depart, Luis contemplated texting Darius to check in with him but decided to wait. He was giving Darius space. Right. Space. Luis knew damn well he was lying to himself. He’d seen the way Darius looked at him the night before, and the worry, the concern, and above all, the distrust were so familiar to him, he couldn’t bear the thought of addressing it.
He knew he had to, though, because Luis knew what had put those doubts in Darius’ head, just like he knew good goddamn well what had happened to him the night of Marissa’s quinceañera party. He’d lied to Darius back then and was stilllying because of it, and fuck Andrés for the shit he’d done and how it kept blindsiding Luis.
“Hey, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” Paul angled his way beside Luis as the galley door opened to admit the catering service with their prefilled beverage and food trollies. The older flight attendant was one of Luis’ favorite coworkers because he acted like a den mother to the younger crew members and protected them from overly friendly passengers. Not to mention, he was a riot at karaoke nights.
Luis shook his head and plastered a smile on his face. “I’m fine.”
A raised eyebrow indicated Paul’s skepticism. “Yeah, that and a bag of chips will get you nowhere, sugar. You look like someone ran over your dog. You and Darius had a fight?”
The final passengers whose destination had been JFK deplaned, and Luis turned his attention to setting up the galley for the flight to Brussels.
“Not really a fight,” he said.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Luis threw Paul a scowl over his shoulder, and the older man laughed. “Yeah, I know, sweetie, you’re just friends. Except both you and I know there ain’t no ‘just’ about it when it comes to Darius.”
Luis rested his hands on the counter and hung his head. “I fucked up.”
“Do tell.” Paul stepped fully into the galley space and took the manifest from one of the catering guys. “Did everyone order a special meal on this flight?” he asked, and the other guy laughed as the first container was rolled into the galley. Paul nudged Luis aside with his hip and nodded toward the last row of seats while he started locking containers into place.
Balancing on the armrest of the aisle seat, Luis watched as Paul deftly loaded the galley for the next leg of their flight. Hewas aware the other man was waiting for him to speak, but really, where did Luis start?
“I flipped out over a guy from my past coming around again.”
“Former boyfriend?”
“Oh, hell no.”
Paul eyed Luis with a knowing glance. “Not a crush either, I take it.”
When Luis looked down and shook his head, Paul left the galley and sat across from Luis. He took Luis’ hands in his own, and Luis fought back tears as their warmth enveloped his suddenly ice-cold fingers. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do. And it sucks. How old were you?”
