bag and shuffles through an avalanche of shit. I watch her in bewilderment as she takes out a stick of bubble gum and shoves it in her mouth. She tosses the wrapper aimlessly on the seat before crossing her legs. She’s so small, her knees don’t even touch me, but her shorts shoot up even more. She’d make a nun blush with the view she’s uncaringly showing off.
“Do you have a staring problem?” she hisses at me without even looking.
My lips curve up as I reply, “It’s hard not to stare at a spectacle.”
Her face whips in my direction. “Oh, yeah? Well, I should be staring at you too, wiseass.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“When I see a man dressed in an Armani suit wearing a twenty thousand-dollar Rolex sitting in Economy, I should probably watch that too.”
I can’t help the smirk that accompanies my face. “Please, Armani can be bought retail, and I guess Rolexes would seem impressive back here.”
A dark brow shoots up. “Are you saying Armani and Rolexes aren’t that big of a deal?”
“I’m saying there are a hell of a lot more out there.”
She eyes me again, taking in my watch and suit. “So, what’re you wearing, hot shot? Something fit for a king?”
“Try a Lange and Sohne watch and a seven-figure clothing budget.”
I sound like such an arrogant cunt. Not my intention, but I’m a man with taste. I’ve spent a lot of time honing my look which matters in a world like mine.
She scoffs with indifference. “Well, it all looks the same to me, and men like you do too.”
“Men like me?”
“Materialistic bastards thinking you’re better than everyone else with your Lange Sunny or whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it watch.”
“Would you rather I have a wife beater on and a beer in my hand?”
“I’d rather you stick a fork down your throat and shut the fuck up.”
Something strange happens. My mouth splits, and it’s not an angry frown I feel coming on, but a…smile.
I’m…smiling.
Well then.
How the fuck do I respond to that? For once, I have nothing witty to contend with. Little Miss Rage Case has won the battle and my mind is still trying to absorb the shock of it all as I watch her closely turn away from me and put on a giant pair of headphones. She’s not at all phased by our colorful exchange. Not at all bothered in the slightest about anything. She swore like it was second nature, like it didn’t fucking matter she’d have to sit next to a man she’d insulted for the next six hours.
Huh.
Soon every person has gracefully boarded the flight and the flight attendant is preparing us for take-off, and I still can’t stop looking at the girl next to me. Nor has the smile on my face weakened. Reluctantly, I turn my head away and force myself to listen in on the safety procedure while a baby screams and a fat man in the aisle next to me passes gas. I want to die.
Focus, Aidan.
The sooner we do this, the sooner I’m off this congested shithole of a place.
*
Twenty minutes later…
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.Thump.Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer! Something, something, something, Dora-Lora.”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.Thump.Thump.
“Swiper no swiping!”
Thump.
“You look like you’re about to explode,” remarks Rage-Case with an amused smile on her face.
My face is tense with anger as the kid behind me continues to kick my seat, singing the same ridiculous tune of a little girl named Dora the fucking Explorer. “Just a little,” I grit out.
Her smile broadens, and she pops a huge bubble from her gum. She then places her iPod back in her mammoth purse along with her huge headphones. “Forgot to charge this. Stupid thing’s dead,” she tells me. “So, I’ll be suffering with you.”
“I’d rather suffer alone.”
“It’d be awfully suffocating suffering alone, not to mention lonely. Best it be enjoyed with a cool girl like me.” She winks exaggeratedly at me and blows another bubble.
“Didn’t you just tear my head off a half hour ago?”
“Didn’t you take my seat a half hour ago too? Let’s call it even, especially now that we’re bored out of our skulls and have absolutely nothing to do.” She smirks at me then, and I blink in response, unsure of what to say.
I resist giving her comments attention because I’m not about to let her know she’s funny. I’d like to sit here shitty and pissed in peace. But when she happens to sift through her bag again, I can’t help sprinkling some humor in.
“You don’t happen to have anything sharp in that bag, do