Spider

She smiles, just a hint. “Your imagination is limitless.”

“Don’t even get me started on zombies. I mean, what the hell is up with Americans and scary shows? Don’t they know that someday scientists are going to reanimate people, and then what are we going to do? Send those walking skeletons to Mars?”

“I love The Walking Dead,” she murmurs.

“You’re a zombie-lover, just perfect.”

“If we crash, let’s come back as zombies.”

“As long as we can be together, it’s on, love.” I raise a brow and watch as a slow blush starts at her neck and works its way up her face.

Something shifts between us, becoming softer and more intimate—even more so than the kiss. It feels fucking good. Relaxing for the first time in what seems like weeks of being on the road and doing shows, I lean my head back against the seat and stare at her, picking her features apart and trying to figure out which part I like the most.

Has to be the lips.

Or the red highlights in her hair.

No, it’s definitely the way she looks at me with her eyes up and her chin slightly down, as if she doesn’t quite know what to make of me.

“The turbulence stopped,” she says, her eyes brightening as she straightens in her seat and looks around the cabin.

I nod. “It stopped a few minutes ago while we were talking.”

“Thank you for distracting me.” She looks at the spider tattoo on my neck. “You have to tell me . . . how did you get a name like Spider?”

Her question sends me spinning in a whole new direction, careening toward darkness, but I push it back and focus on a happy memory. “It was my twin sister’s name for me. Believe it or not, my natural hair color is almost black, and when I was young, I was super skinny with long legs and arms, plus I loved to climb everything. I’d do this thing where I’d hide and jump out at her. Once I sat on the top shelf of her bedroom closet for two hours waiting for her to get home from a play date. She opened the door and—boom—I popped down and landed right at her feet.” I remember Cate’s angry face and how she chased me out of her room. “She said I looked like a spider. The next morning, she called me Spider to make me mad, but I liked it, and it just kinda stuck.” I pause, staring down at our hands. “She died when we were thirteen.”

Her face falls. “God, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“It’s not something I talk about.”

She nods, her face earnest. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

I nod and look away. There’s no way in hell I can tell her the truth—that I’m the reason my sister is gone.

After talking about movies and books for almost two hours, Rose drifts off to sleep around hour three of the flight. I’m disappointed to not have her attention, but I know she’s tired from her late night and then being scared of flying. As for me, I’m antsy the closer we get to Dallas and my father. I need a hit of something . . . anything.

Heidi walks by a few times, her eyes eating me up like I’m her last meal. I mostly ignore her, except to order a double shot of tequila. She’s like the usual girls I see at shows . . . flirty and ready for anything. I fuck a lot of them. It’s what I do.

But Rose . . . she’s different.

Heidi returns with my drink and then leans down and whispers in my ear, “Wanna meet me in the bathroom at the back of the plane? You go in first, and I’ll follow.”

My gut says hell no, don’t do it, but my brain . . . it needs something to shut it up.

She straightens up and bats her lashes at me. “Five minutes?”

I flick my eyes down to Rose and pause for a second, but then I turn back to Heidi and give her a short nod.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m feeling warm from the alcohol, but I still haven’t left my seat.

Heidi walks by me again and sends me a lingering look. Fuck me, please, her eyes say.

I don’t want her, not really. I want oblivion, yes, but that’s different.

I want to stay right here with Rose.

And that’s a huge fucking mistake.

Rule #1: Don’t get your heart involved.

Why bother when people always leave anyway?

And with that thought in mind, I unbuckle and walk to the back.

I ease into the cramped, antiseptic-smelling bathroom and open the skull face on my sterling silver ring, revealing the white powder inside. I tap out a bump on the side of my hand and sniff it, the burn hitting me hard.

Yeah.

That’s it.

Mixed with the tequila . . . everything’s gonna be okay.

I hear the knock at the door and open it. She slithers in, smelling like a perfume counter at the mall and nothing like honey and vanilla. I don’t let our eyes meet, and I don’t kiss her on the mouth.

But something doesn’t feel right.

She must sense my hesitation because she unsnaps my jeans in a rush, whispering where to put my arms and legs to maximize the space. It only takes six minutes, tops, both of us reaching a new kind of high at thirty thousand feet. It fills my emptiness for a few moments, makes me forget there’s a nice girl out there sitting in the seat next to mine, and for a moment, I almost let her in.

I finish and walk out of the toilet. She follows.

I won’t recall her name. I never want to.

Rose

THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT FLOUNCES PAST me with a gloating expression on her face, and I’m ready to pluck every hair out of her head. My hands clench around my seat.

How could he be with her? After kissing me?

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe they just went to talk.

Yeah right, Rose. Don’t be an idiot.

An image of him with her dances around in my head as anger churns in my gut.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he calls out exuberantly as he slides back into his seat and buckles back up. “Looks like we’re about to descend.” I notice there’s a flush to his face as he drums his fingers on his knees erratically. “You missed the fellow in 13B who snored so loud I thought I might have to stuff a sock down his throat. Crazy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, spearing me with a look before dropping my gaze.

I narrow my eyes, studying him. “Are you?”

His eyes bounce back to mine. “I’m fine. More than fine. I’m stoked and ready to deal with Dallas.”

I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask. I’m too mad to care what he’s going to be doing in Dallas. I hope I never see him again.

“How was Heidi?” I say, keeping my face carefully composed even though I want to smack him.

He pales and opens his mouth to say something, but then compresses his lips and looks down at his hands. His index finger traces the lines of the LOST tattoo.

“Did you really have sex with her?” I was holding out hope that I was wrong.

He nods.

Disappointment slams into my chest, hurting more than it should have for a guy that I just met. “You’re an asshole.”

He swallows, talking fast. “I know, but nothing was going to happen between us. You’re too nice for me and obviously we’ll never see each other again, and trust me, if we had hooked up, I wouldn’t have called you the next day and asked you out on a date. I don’t do that—ever.”

“No need to explain to me. I’m not jealous,” I snap. “I feel sorry for you.” I shove his jacket at him.

He puts it on slowly, his eyes still studying me, and even though I refuse to look back, my entire body feels the intensity of his gaze, as if I were under a microscope.