Not long ago, I'd thought this day was off to a rough start.
I'd considered traffic and text message breakups and airport lines and smashing my shoulder into hard flooring to be rough.
That was before I reached for a woman's breast without her enthusiastic interest and then had to sit next to her for three more hours.
I was certain I could stare out the window that long. That was my only option as I saw it. I couldn't open my laptop and bang out a few reports while we pretended my hand hadn't been close enough to the underside of her breast to feel the heat of her. I couldn't pick up the mess I kept creating with Zelda and go back to business as usual. And I wanted business as usual but the inertia was all wrong.
Instead of working or staring out the window, I chose the next worst option: I fell asleep.
Now, I considered myself an experienced business traveler. I was in the air several days each month. That was all to say I knew how to nap on an airplane. I knew how to nod off without incident or neck injury.
All that business traveler's experience died with my watch today because I didn't simply fall asleep. I fell asleep on Zelda's shoulder and I slept there for the duration of the flight. This wasn't an innocent case of resting my head on her shoulder. No, it wasn't that at all. I'd shifted my entire body toward her and nestled myself into the cove of her shoulder. I was breathing—and I couldn't stress this enough—on her neck.
I woke up only when she patted my hand—the one I'd dropped onto her thigh—and whispered, "Ash, we're landing."
It took several seconds for those words to mean anything to me and I spent that time stroking my thumb along the inseam of her jeans. Then, the wheels hit the runway and I realized what I was doing.
"Oh—oh fuck." I jolted away from Zelda with enough force to knock me back against the window. "Oh, fuck," I said, groaning at the pain radiating through my shoulder. "That fucking hurt."
"Are you all right?" She reached for me but I kept myself plastered against the solid safety of the aircraft's wall.
I waved her off. "Fine, fine," I replied, flattening my hand against the offending shoulder. "I can't believe I, you know, I did that. I'm sorry." I glanced at her, too deep in my embarrassment to meet her eyes for long. "You should've pushed me away."
"So now it's my fault?"
We stared at each other while the pilot and flight attendants made announcements about baggage claim and items in overhead compartments shifting during flight. When quiet settled between us, I said, "It's not your fault. I was, um, no. Not your fault. I was only attempting to indicate that you were well within your rights to elbow me in the throat."
"Yeah." Her lips pursed in a pout as she nodded. "I know." Her gaze darted to my shoulder as I doubled down on my attempts to ease the pain there. "Are you all right?"
I bobbed my head. "Completely fine. There was an incident in the terminal this morning and I clipped it at a strange angle."
Zelda unbuckled her seat belt and shifted to her knees. She reached for my collar, loosened the top three buttons, and slipped her hand under my shirt.
I yelped when her fingers connected with the most tender spot. "Sorry," I murmured. "Like I said, it's completely fine. Just a little sore."
A quiet laugh slipped past her lips before she gazed up at me. "Listen, my friend. I think your shoulder is dislocated. I don't know for sure but after enough years as a camp counselor, you learn how to spot these things."
Her hand traveled down my chest, over my collarbone, and along the back side of my shoulder, and my body was so confused. Her touch wasn't meant to be intimate, I knew that, but my skin hadn't received the same message.
I was a sucker for little touches like that. I didn't need to paw at someone in public—contrary to my behavior this morning—but I loved the little touches. And right now, my skin was under the impression we were adoring these little touches.
"In my first act as your assistant, I'm telling you this needs to be examined by a medical professional," she said, her palm still pressed to my back. "Why don't you tell me your doctor's name and I'll make you