Chapter 2: Aiden Cohen: Layover

Almost six and a half hours later, I'm off the plane and standing at baggage claim in the Sea-Tac International Airport. My legs and back ache from being stuck in the seat for so long, and I twist my body around in all different angles, trying to ease the tension as I watch the baggage carousel move in a slow circle. It feels like I've been standing there for a good hour, even though I know it's only been several moments.

Seriously, where is my suitcase? I walk around the carousel to see if I possibly missed it. Nope. No sign of my bag. Or any bag, for that matter. What if the airline lost my luggage? My heart races, and I walk faster, as if that would somehow magically make my suitcase appear.

"Aiden?"

"Emily?" A tiny bit of relief fills my veins, and I take a deep breath. She'd been in the back of the plane, and I'd been near the front, so we didn't have a chance to talk during the flight, but seeing her friendly face calms my racing heart.

She smiles broadly, her perfect white teeth flashing like a beacon during a storm. Then she takes a moment to study me before tilting her head. "Waiting for your bags, huh?" There's a teasing lilt to her tone, which lowers my anxiety another notch.

"Yeah." I sigh. "I really hope they're not lost." I scrunch up my face at the thought.

"How many do you have?"

"Just one. It's black and gray camouflage."

She adjusts the strap of the oversize purse draped across the front of her body. "So, do you have to catch another plane?"

I nod. "Yeah. But not for another four hours."

She laughs, then covers it behind a badly faked cough.

"What?" I ask.

"You do know that if you're waiting on a connecting flight, they just transfer your bag from one plane to the next, right?" Her eyes sparkle with humor.

"Seriously?"

She nods, fighting to hide her smile.

In all the times I've flown in the past, I've had a direct flight, so this whole layover thing is new to me. But do I feel like a complete idiot now. I sigh. "No, I didn't know that." My shoulders sag. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about lost luggage, huh?"

"Exactly." She punctuates her reply with a firm nod. "I have a long layover, too. Want to grab something to eat?"

My eyebrows lift, and my eyes widen. Did she just ask me to hang out with her? "Uh, yeah, sure."

She smiles again, and my chest tightens. I've never seen such a pretty smile. "Great." She begins to walk toward the food court.

I fall into step beside her, unable to wrap my mind around how lucky I am to have someone to hang out with, especially someone so beautiful. God really does work in mysterious ways. "Where do you want to eat?" I survey our choices - which aren't a lot.

She shrugs, looking around. "How about there?" She points to a full-service restaurant. "Looks like there's plenty of room to sit."

"Sounds good."

A hostess seats us at a two-person booth against the wall. "Your waitress will be with you shortly." She plops two menus down on the table.

I grab mine and flip it open. My stomach grumbles loudly, and Emily looks at me over the rim of her menu. "Someone sounds hungry."

I laugh. "I really should've eaten breakfast this morning knowing I was going to be flying all day. Those snacks they give you on the plane are a joke."

She nods. "They're gross, too."

I return my gaze to the menu and browse the burger selection. "So, where are you headed, anyway?" There aren't many places she can go from Seattle. I mean, there are, but then she'll be flying back the way we just came, and that seems silly.

"Alaska." She makes a sour face. "To my grandparents."

"No way," I say, disbelief filling my voice.

She lowers her menu and stares at me as if I'm lying to her.

"What?" I ask self-consciously.

"Where are you going?" She narrows her eyes.

"Alaska," I say.

"Shut up." Her tone is all playful attitude, as if she thinks I'm trying to be cute or something.

"I'm serious." I don't know what else to say to get her to believe me. I'm not even sure why it matters. She'll know the truth when we both board the same plane.

"Why are you going to Alaska?"

"I live there."

She snorts. "Seriously? You live there? Why?"

Before I can respond, the waitress arrives. "Good afternoon. How're you two doing today?"

"Fine, thank you." I smile.

"Can I start you off with something to drink?" she asks, her gaze moving between me and Emily.

"Go ahead," I say to Emily. My father taught me a lot of things, but the one he will never let me forget are proper manners. His lessons are permanently ingrained in who I am.

"Oh, uh, I'll have a strawberry lemonade, please."

"That sounds good. I'll have one, too."

The waitress nods and jots down our drinks on her notepad. Then we place our orders.

Emily gets a bacon barbecue cheeseburger with French fries, and I get a chicken tender sandwich with mozzarella sticks. When the waitress leaves, I fold my arms on the table, eager to talk to her more, to learn more about her. "So, why do you seem so surprised by the fact that I live in Alaska?"

$$Chapter 3: Aiden: Alaskan Boy

She shrugs again. "I don't know. You just don't look like that's where you're from."

I raise a brow. Most people I meet are intrigued by the fact I live in Alaska, but no one has ever told me I don't look Alaskan - whatever an Alaskan is supposed to look like. "And where do I look like I'm from?"

The corner of her mouth lifts in an almost smile, but it vanishes as quickly as it starts, almost like she's suddenly shy, or afraid to relax and have fun. "The country." She laughs. "I can see you in living on a farm somewhere in like Kentucky or something." Her hazel eyes spark with mischief. "All you're missing is the southern drawl."

Is she implying I look like a redneck farm boy? I'm not sure how I feel about that. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I've never even been to Kentucky."

"Hmm." She drums her fingernails on the table. "Okay, so be honest with me. I visited Alaska once before, years ago, and I hated it. How do you live there?"

This time, I shrug. "I've lived there my whole life. I don't know anything else. How do you live in the city? Isn't it noisy and crowded and unsafe?"

She straightens, and all laughter leaves her face. "How do you know I live in the city?"

"I don't. But considering you were leaving from New York and said you were going to your grandparents… I just assumed. Am I wrong?" I know I'm not. I wasn't in New York that long, but I was there long enough to know how people there are different than people in Alaska. And I hated it there.

"No," she says slowly, drawing out the word. "You're not wrong." She studies me intently. A little too intently.

I shift in my chair. Thankfully, the waitress arrives with our drinks, and I focus on opening my straw and taking a sip. I clear my throat. "How long are you going to be in Alaska?"

She turns her head and stares in the opposite direction, suddenly unwilling to look at me. "I don't know."

Okay, that's weird. "Looks like we'll be on the same flight again," I say, hoping to cheer her up.

I usually don't have any issues talking to girls, but there's something about Emily that I find intimidating. Maybe it's because she's from a big city and can handle herself. Or maybe it's because I know all the girls in my hometown, so it's easy to talk to them. Emily, though, she's guarded, and as badly as I want to pry, I don't. That wouldn't be polite.

Our food arrives. I hesitate, waiting to see if Emily will say a blessing. She doesn't, so I quickly lower my head and say a silent prayer of thanks. We eat in silence for a while. I keep stealing glances at Emily, hoping she'll say something, but she doesn't.

"Want a cheese stick?" I ask, holding one out to her.

"Thanks." She takes it, then inches her plate closer to me. "Want some fries? There's no way I'm going to be able to eat all of these." She takes one and tosses it in her mouth, catching it effortlessly.

"Impressive." I lean back, eyes wide with awe.

"It's a gift. I can catch any food thrown at me. I have a one hundred percent accuracy rate." She grins proudly.

"Really?" I wipe my fingers on my napkin.

"Yup." She nods. "You should try it." She picks up a fry and throws it at my face. I attempt to snatch it out of the air but fail miserably. The fry smacks my cheek, then falls to the floor. She giggles. Then she does it again. And I miss. Again.

Next thing I know, there are six fries flying at my face. There's no way I can catch all of them, so I snatch two of them out of the air and the others hit my nose and forehead. "That's not fair."

Emily giggles uncontrollably, and her face turns crimson. My breath catches at the sight of her like that. Her eyes are vibrant and wild.

"Think you can do better?" I challenge.

"I know I can."

"Okay." I grab a handful of fries from her plate and toss them at her one at a time, and she catches every single one of them.

My jaw drops. She hadn't been lying, and now all I want to know is how she learned to do that. "Okay, that's the coolest talent ever."

"Right?" She takes a deep breath, then reaches for another cheese stick at the same moment I do, and my hand lands on hers.

"Sorry." I jerk my hand back, but my palm tingles with how soft her skin is and how small her hand is beneath mine. What will it feel like to hold her hand for real? I swallow and then take a drink.

"No, I'm sorry. I should've asked first," she says.

"It's okay. You can have anything you want." I freeze momentarily, realizing what I said and how it must sound. But then she blushes, and my heart clenches. The only thought racing through my mind is that she's going to be in Anchorage. With me.