He looked like someone accustomed to expensive clothes but too tired to care whether anyone noticed them.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No problem.”
He held out his hand.
“Luca.”
“Blaire.”
Fiona studied him suspiciously.
He looked at her rabbit.
“Does your friend have a name?”
“Mr. Buttons.”
“That is an excellent rabbit name.”
Fiona considered this.
Apparently he had passed the test.
For the next hour, Luca did something I had almost forgotten men were capable of doing.
He was helpful without making a performance of being helpful.
When Fiona dropped a crayon, he picked it up.
When I struggled to open the tray table while balancing her juice, he held the cup.
When the flight attendant asked whether we needed anything, he waited for me to answer rather than speaking for me.
He did not ask why I was traveling alone.
He did not ask whether I was married.
He did not tell me his life story.
He certainly did not flirt.
That made me trust him more than charm would have.
About forty minutes after takeoff, I began noticing the looks.
At first, I assumed I was imagining them.
A young man across the aisle had glanced toward Luca several times.
Two women farther ahead whispered and turned around.
A teenager walking to the restroom slowed as he passed our row.
Luca noticed too.
His expression changed.
Not fear exactly.
Weariness.
He leaned closer to me.
“Can I ask you a ridiculous favor?”
“That depends on how ridiculous.”
He glanced across the aisle.
The young man was holding his phone upright near his chest.
“Would you mind pretending you fell asleep on my shoulder?”
I stared at him.
“You’re serious?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why?”
“Because if they think I’m traveling with family, they may lose interest.”
I looked at the people watching him.
Then back at him.
“Are you famous?”
His mouth twitched.
“Unfortunately, sometimes.”
That should have made me more suspicious.
Instead, he sounded so sincerely unhappy about it that I almost smiled.
“Five minutes,” I said.
“Five minutes.”
I adjusted Fiona, who was watching a cartoon with headphones on, and carefully rested my head against Luca’s shoulder.
Across the aisle, the phone lowered.
One of the women ahead turned around once more, saw us, and faced forward.
Luca exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“You owe me coffee.”
“Done.”
I closed my eyes.
Related Posts
