Big thanks to KenjiSato for editing this story.
It was a five hour flight, but this was well worth the wait. One week away from it all would've been enough to convince me to join Tom on his holiday, so the location was just a bonus. And one hell of a bonus it was. A luxury, five-star villa in Malta, overlooking the magnificent Mediterranean. I could visualise the enticing beaches, almost feeling the fine-powdered sand between my toes. I breathed in through my nose, but instead of that familiar yet distant smell of the ocean, what I really smelt was the stale stench of the airport security.
How could a gateway to so much happiness be so... dull? In fairness, the dreary state of the security was to be expected, what with the seriousness of its necessity, it's what comes next that surprises me. To my left, a row of duty-free shops, all bursting with random shit no one cares about, apart from the occasional tubes of Pringles and pre-made sandwiches in those plain, triangular cardboard boxes. To my right, a grid of chairs, barely more comfortable to sit on than the Pringles can I would ineffably purchase for the flight. Scattered around were various groups of families, friends, couples, all waiting equally impatiently for their flight to be read out over the crackling tannoy. I took a seat, facing the oversized windows, presenting to me the plane I would soon be boarding. Memories of me as a kid, bursting with excitement at the prospect of flying, swarmed into my head and began to rescue me from my depressed attitude.
In my defence, I wasn't usually this melancholic. This was the first time I had flown alone, despite the fact that I was sharing a room with Tom when I got there. Tom had booked a week away with his girlfriend quite some time ago, but since then, they split up. No Earth-shattering break-up story; things just didn't work out. Tom was going to cancel, but I convinced him to go anyway, to help him cheer up. Well that brings me to last Tuesday, when I received a text from him inviting me to stay with him. There was a couch I could sleep on and he'd paid for all-exclusive for two people at the resort. Just two days later, I had booked a week off work and a flight over to Malta. He arrived the day before me, so we both had to go through the airport rigmarole alone.
So anyway, there I was, sitting on my phone, staring longingly at the photo of the beautiful architecture of the villa I would be arriving in later that day. I checked my watch. Ugh. Another thirty minutes. I thought I should probably take a shit before boarding, so I picked up my hand luggage and headed for the toilets.
Airport toilets are always interesting places. Not like that, I'm not a perv. What I mean are the people waiting outside the toilets. Such a diverse assortment of people, waiting on children, parents, partners, etc. to finish up their business. Most would simply take the time to check their phone. Some would awkwardly hold bags they clearly didn't want any association with. On my way in, my eyes fell on someone who fell into neither description. A woman of roughly my age (mid-twenties). Her golden hair flowed down to her shoulders, upon which she wore a t-shirt with the logo of some band I'd never heard of. She leaned back, one of her Converse shoes resting on the wall, while the other stayed planted on the floor, next to two reasonably-sized rucksacks. Instead of staring down at the blue glow of infinite entertainment that she presumably kept in the pocket of her ripped jeans, she held her head up, examining her surroundings until her azure eyes landed on me, still looking at her as I approached the facilities. She cracked what appeared to be a genuine smile, which I promptly returned before passing her.
I should have forgotten her, just another face in hundreds I'd seen that day. But in the next half hour, her face became imprinted on my brain; an ear worm that I didn't particularly want to leave. In all honesty, I didn't quite understand it, though. Her beauty was undeniable, but hardly unparalleled. Her skin was smooth, but not the smoothest I had seen. Her eyes were blue, but not the bluest. Her hair lovely, but not the loveliest. Despite this, something about her was incredibly attractive to me. Something I couldn't quite explain. Again, don't get me wrong, she was a looker, nine-out-of-ten at least, but from the moment I saw her, I had the burning desire to get to know her. Both emotionally and sexually. I chalked it up to some random fleeting crush and boarded the plane.
I sat down in my allocated aisle seat and was disgruntled to notice that the two passengers next to me were yet to arrive, meaning I'd soon be on my feet again. Of course it could be good news, perhaps those two seats hadn't been booked at all, giving me the row free. I crossed my fingers and flicked through the flight information booklet, intently reading up on the entertainment options while completely ignoring the safety instructions.
"Excuse me?" said a polite voice, to my right. "Sorry, we're sitting next to you, would you mind...?" She didn't have to finish, as I had already risen from my seat and stepped aside for the short brunette to shimmy into her window seat. She wore black jeans and a black v-neck, and I'm slightly ashamed to say, I couldn't help but notice her magnificent cleavage. My eyes were averted almost immediately, because as she moved along into her seat, she revealed the passenger behind her: my mystery girl. She gave me the same smile before joining her friend in their seats. After a minute or so of shuffling around, I had sat back down in my seat, with the aisle to my right and the gorgeous blonde to my left.
And so I sat back and hit play on my music, while the safety demonstration commenced. My eyes lazily pointed in the general direction of the air hostess as a pleasingly relevant Foo Fighters song rattled down my headphone cord. I watched as the air hostess taught us such important lessons as how to open a seatbelt, how to put on an oxygen mask and above all, a demonstration of the all-important whistle, that would be sure to save us in the event of being stranded six thousand miles from land. I smiled as my inner cynic continued to make sarcastic remarks about the demonstration. Eventually, the plane jolted into movement. We taxied around for a while, before speeding up for takeoff.
As we gained altitude, I once again had a look through the in-flight entertainment, hoping to find something more worth watching than some crappy Adam Sandler comedy.
"I don't think you're gonna find anything to watch," I heard over my music. I took out one earphone as the voice continued, "Unless you've got a hankering for Jack and Jill?"
"Mhm. I think I'll pass," I replied to the blonde woman, as I turned off the screen attached to the back of the seat in front.
"You can't miss it, it's got Adam Sandler in it," she joked.
"Oh well, in that case sign me up." We both smiled. "I'm Matt. And you are..?"
"Charlie," she said.
"Now, I have an important question for you, Charlie." I proclaimed, "Do you want a Pringle?"
She chuckled before reaching into the can.
The next hour or so flew by, as we got to know each other, chatting and joking about anything that came to our heads. We were both tired, the sun had long since set and between the long flight and the time difference, we knew it was going to have risen again by the time we arrived. We both agreed we would try again to get some sleep, but merely five minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
