Page 1 of Flights and Sights

Chapter 1 - Paxton

Grateful that I’d made my connection, and didn’t have to sprint through the Denver airport to catch my flight, I boarded my next plane, backpack snugly on my back so as not to bump into any other patrons as I walked down the aisle to my seat, tugging my rolling bag behind me. I made my way to the middle of the plane, just before the wing, spotting a guy already in the window seat of my row, eyes tightly shut. It only took me a second to heft my rolling bag up and into the overhead bin before I shrugged off my backpack, stuffed it under the seat in front of me, and settled into the middle of the row. As I sat, I looked longingly at the currently empty aisle seat, but I was a rule-follower and my ticket said that the middle seat was mine. Maybe I’ll move if nobody takes the aisle, I thought as I buckled up.

The guy in the window seat, who looked about the same age as me, was doing some deep breathing, slow and even, his head leaned against the window.

I’d never been a huge fan of flying, but this was something else entirely. I shook my head, tucked my earbuds in, and tried to ignore the—admittedly kind of hot—guy sitting next to me. He seemed tense, but otherwise fine, and it was really none of my business how he was doing, anyway.

A little while later, just as the plane began taxiing the runway, the guy next to me reached out blindly and gripped my hand. My stomach did a weird sort of tumble.

“Um, are you okay?” I asked as quietly as possible over the roar of the engines.

The guy looked at me then, opening his eyes for the first time that I’d noticed since I’d boarded the plane. They were hazel, almost hidden behind his black glasses, and there was fear in them. He blinked at me a few times and glanced down at our hands.

“Sorry.” He pulled back quickly and balled his hand into a fist, the other one white-knuckling the armrest.

“Hey,” I murmured. “It’s okay. You’re nervous about the flight?”

He nodded. “Very.”

“It’s going to be fine.” At that moment, the plane lifted into the air and the guy’s fist tightened. I reached over and took his hand in mine again. “It’s going to be fine,” I repeated. “Squeeze as hard as you need to.” While the guy took deep breaths and squeezed my hand, I talked to him in low, calming tones. “My name is Paxton, but my friends call me Pax. What’s yours?”

“Callum… Sinclair,” he said through gritted teeth as the landing gear tucking in made the entire plane shudder.

“Can I call you Cal?”

He looked at me then, his hazel eyes bright and curious. “I… guess so.”

“People don’t call you that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you not like it?”

Cal shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t mind it. I don’t know… people just don’t.”

I put my free hand on top of his. “I will, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, giving me a small smile.

“Where are you headed, Cal? Are you visiting or going home?”

“Visiting. My family is from California, near San Diego, and I’ve made my home on the East Coast.”

I chuckled softly. “My family’s from near Sacramento.”

“You’re visiting too?” Cal asked, eyebrows raised.

I shook my head. “I still live out there. Are you traveling for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure, I guess, if you can call it that. Family reunion. We do it once every couple of years. A whole month of festivities. Gives everyone a chance to come in from out of town, stay as long as they want, leave when they need to. My parents always pick a different town and rent a big house, usually one with a huge backyard and a pool.”

“The pool sounds nice, but the month-long reunion part sounds like torture.”

Cal chuckled and nodded. “It’s not my favorite thing in the world. This year I’m working while I visit, though.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

Cal turned to face me, his back to the window, and took a shaky breath, our hands still joined. “I’m a writer. For a magazine.”