“Yup. That’s me. Always lucky.”
Luck had nothing to do with it. I was the opposite of luck. I was misfortune.
The air-hostess disappeared to help another with their seating.
I stowed my luggage, slammed into my chair, and looked out the window.
The memory of my mother’s struggle and what happened afterward clenched my heart as passengers settled and the cabin prepared for flight.
A flash of blonde caught my eye as I scanned my fellow travellers. The flight wasn’t full, providing a good view across to the other side of the plane.
That girl again.
Her carry-on, as she wedged it above her head, looked fit to explode like a shrapnel grenade.
She was pretty—very pretty.
There was something about her. Something intrinsic—something that singled her out and made me notice.
Long blonde hair, translucent skin...large hazel eyes.
She deserved to be investigated and appraised. I was interested.
When our gazes met at the boarding gate, I’d felt the first hint of normalcy in over five years. I liked that she’d affected me, but I also wouldn’t let it happen again.
Women like her were dangerous, especially for men like me.
The girl had barely sat down and fastened her seat belt before the fuselage creaked as the captain pushed off from the gate and the terminal grew smaller as we lined up to defy gravity.
Tearing my eyes away from her, I stared out the window at the blurry world and the last glimpse of Los Angeles.
After waiting our turn, the engines screamed and we shot down the runway, hurtling from stationery to rocket.
My ears popped as we traded concrete for open air.
The eleven-hour flight had commenced.
“Welcome on board this service to Nadi.” The captain’s drone dripped from the overhead speakers. “The current temperature at our destination is a humid twenty-seven degrees centigrade with a chance of rain closer to arrival. The flight today will take approximately ten hours and forty-five minutes. We encourage you to sit back, relax, and allow us to fly you to your destination in style.”
Style has nothing to do with it.
Reclining in my shitty economy class seat, I peered through the row and eyed the blonde. My glasses fogged a little, obscuring her until she glowed with a halo. I didn’t mean to glance her way. I should forget all about her.
But I couldn’t shake my interest.
Her side profile, as she bent over a tatty notebook, was as beautiful as front on. She was stunning, if not a little strange—the perfect paragon of sharp and shy.
I want to talk to her.
My legs bunched to stand. I swallowed with disbelief. What the hell?
The aircraft skipped with minor turbulence, wrenching the girl’s head up.
An air-hostess nudged my elbow as she darted up the aisle, dragging the trolley with scents of food. That solved my dilemma. I couldn’t go talk to her because I had to remain seated for the service and I wouldn’t go talk to her because I had no intention of spreading the bad luck I brought onto others.
I was better off alone.
It was the way it had to be.
End of bloody story.
Pressing the button to recline my chair, I gripped the hand-rails and closed my eyes. For the next eleven hours, I would forget about her, then disembark and never see her again.
I didn’t know it but the opposite was true.
Getting on that plane inexplicably tied our fates together.
.............................
The ending credits scrolled over my screen.
Stretching, I switched off the movie, removed my glasses, and rubbed my eyes. I didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but I’d eaten (extremely crappy airplane food), I’d watched two movies (nothing to gush about) and I’d stolen a few more looks at Unknown Girl across the plane (okay, more than just a few).
I hadn’t forgotten my pledge to forget about her, but the tiredness of a long journey, coupled with the dark gloom of the cabin, didn’t put me in the best of moods. The darkness reminded me too much of the place I’d lived in before escaping to America. The loud hum of engines irritated me to the point of violence.
I didn’t want anything to do with the girl across the aisle.
So why do you keep looking at her?
I was happier on my own. Being on my own meant I didn’t have to answer to anyone, share my past, or worry about their reaction to who I truly was.
Dad had told me time and time again that one day my need for space would be trumped by the perfect woman.
He didn’t have a damn clue.
I didn’t want to find love. I wasn’t worthy of finding love.
I’d seen what Mum’s death did to him. He’d become hollow. A father with no spark. A man with no happiness.
I could handle being on my own.
Why would I ruin that by weakening myself and handing over my heart to a woman who could crush me?
I stole another look at Unknown Girl. She’d scooped her hair into a ponytail and slicked pink lipstick on her very kissable mouth.
Tearing my eyes away, I yanked on my headphones.
Goddammit, what was it about her that interested me?
Who is she?
Pity fate couldn’t talk. If it could, I would’ve heard the reply:
She’s your beginning.
Your end.
Your salvation.
Chapter Three
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E S T E L L E
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There is such a thing as loneliness. Loneliness is the stalker you’ve been running from, the parent you’ve been hiding from, the disappointment you’ve been escaping from.