norovirus from an airplane toilet? It’s bad enough I’ll be breathing the same filtered air for five hours with everyone else,” I huff, not really sure why I’m getting myself worked up over this.
Harper raises an eyebrow. “You seem to know an awful lot about airplane sex for a man who’s never been on a plane. Is that like a porn fetish or something? Stewardess Seduction? Bang Me at Thirty-Thousand Feet? Oh! What about The Randy Pilot’s Cockpit?”
I groan, knowing she’ll not drop it now that the door has been opened. “Stop.”
“Maybe Debbie Does It Over Dallas? Or First Class Cum-Guzzlers?”
That one makes my stomach clench. “Fine, I’ll go,” I reply, willing to tell her anything to avoid further discussion about porn with my sister.
“You will?”
“Yes, now please stop talking.”
Harper giggles and throws her arms around me. I return her hug, even if I’ve never been much for displays of affection. That’s how sicknesses are spread, you know? She quickly pulls away and smiles widely. “Thank you so much. This is going to be the best trip ever!”
“If you say so,” I mumble, the panic of my commitment standing right there in front of me, ready to take over.
“It’ll be fun,” she starts, tapping me on the chest. “You’ll see. It’s going to be small and intimate and perfect. Latham and I are flying out Thursday, but you can join us anytime. Mom, Marissa, Rhenn, and Latham’s parents are flying out early Friday, and I think Jensen and Kathryn are taking a later flight.”
“Okay,” I respond automatically, my mind reeling. On one hand, it would probably be better to fly with familiar faces for my first time. On the other, if I freak out, I’d rather they not see my fear in the flesh.
“I’ll email you the hotel information. We’re all staying at the same one. We booked a chapel on the strip for Saturday night at seven and dinner at the hotel restaurant at eight. Then, everyone has the rest of the evening to do whatever they please. I know what I’ll be doing,” she says, bumping her shoulder into my arm and wiggling her eyebrows.
“Jeez, Harper,” I groan, trying to push that mental image as far from my mind as humanly possible. Hell, another universe wouldn’t be far enough.
My sister giggles a happy little sound and hugs me again. Three hugs in one day; that’s definitely not the norm. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your dead person. I’ll email you the hotel info and the flight confirmations for everyone else. Try to get on a flight with one of them. It’ll help,” she says, giving me a sympathetic look.
“Fine,” I state, straightening my necktie.
“Oh, I think everyone is staying until Monday, so it might not be a bad idea for you too. Take a day off work. Live a little.”
Ha. Live a little? I almost laugh out loud. I live just fine, thank you very much. My idea of living isn’t traveling two thousand miles to the fucking desert, surrounded by too many people, all bumping into each other and spilling their drinks on you. And let’s not forget the selfies. Why this is a thing, I’ll never know. I don’t need a hundred photos of myself standing in different places, making stupid faces that resemble animals at my phone.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work. Make sure you get your stuff booked tonight,” she says, hugging me a fourth time before disappearing down the long hallway.
Running my hands over the back of my neck, I let the immensity of our conversation settle over me. Yes, I’m happy my sister is getting married. Yes, I’m thrilled I’m gaining Latham as a brother-in-law. Yes, I’m ecstatic to walk her down the aisle. I’m not so thrilled that particular aisle is in Nevada.
Not-so-pleasant images parade through my mind as I think about getting on an airplane. Statistically, the chances of being involved in an airplane-related crash are one in five point four million. I’m more likely to die crossing the street than in an airplane.
But there’s always that one time…
* * *
The airport is busy on this Friday morning. There are people everywhere, from countries all over the world. I try to blend in, but it’s hard when most are in tropical shirts or what looks like pajama pants. Do people really leave their houses like this? Like everywhere they go, they just rolled out of bed? I straighten my necktie and try not to get caught