💘 CHAPTER 1 — THE WORST SEAT PARTNER IN THE UNIVERSE
If there was one thing Emma Lane absolutely hated, it was sitting next to strangers on airplanes.
If there was one thing she hated even more, it was sitting next to a stranger who took up the armrest like it was inherited royal property.
Unfortunately, seat 14A came with both problems.
“Excuse me,” Emma said as she tried (and failed) to squeeze past a very long pair of legs blocking the aisle.
The owner of said legs—tall, dark-haired, annoyingly handsome—didn’t move.
He had headphones in, eyes half-closed, an expression that could only be described as: I am too good for the mortal world and definitely too good to let you pass.
Emma cleared her throat louder this time.
Nothing.
She narrowed her eyes. “Hi. Hello. I need to get to my seat.”
He popped one earbud out. “Hmm?”
“My seat. Fourteen A. Past your legs of mass destruction.”
He blinked at her for two seconds… then finally moved his knees approximately one centimeter.
“One centimeter is not moving,” Emma said flatly. “That’s… that’s pretending to move.”
He sighed dramatically, stood, and stepped into the aisle with the air of a man doing charity work.
Emma slid into her seat, rolled her eyes, and buckled in.
He sat back down beside her—seat 14B—and reclaimed the entire armrest before she even breathed.
Great.
Perfect.
Wonderful.
She was going to die on this flight.
A flight from Paris to Vienna, no less. Romantic destination. Zero romance on board.
She grabbed her book. He glanced over.
“You’re reading How to Stay Single and Happy?” he said, eyebrows raised.
Emma slowly turned toward him. “Do you… have a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Just seems ironic considering you’re glaring at me like I ruined your life.”
“You’re taking the armrest like you bought this plane.”
“I have long arms.”
“I have boundaries.”
He smirked. “Hi. I’m Adrian.”
Emma stared. “Why are you introducing yourself like this is a meet-cute? We’re fighting.”
“We’re bantering,” he corrected. “Big difference.”
“No, we’re—”
The plane jolted as they began taxiing. Adrian grabbed the armrest with a reflexive, panicked tight grip.
Emma blinked. “Wait. Are you—are you afraid of takeoff?”
He stiffened. “No.”
“You totally are.”
“I am not.”
Emma gently pried his white-knuckled hand off her armrest with two fingers. “This is adorable.”
He scowled. “It’s not adorable. It’s normal. Lots of people dislike takeoff.”
“Yes, but you look like you’re about to make a will.”
She couldn’t help smiling.
Adrian cleared his throat. “Could you… not judge me while I’m mentally preparing my funeral?”
Emma laughed.
A full, bright laugh she couldn’t stop.
Adrian looked sideways at her. Something softened in his expression.
“You have a nice laugh,” he murmured.
The plane lifted off. Adrian flinched. Emma, still smiling, patted his forearm.
“It’s okay. If we crash, I’ll write your eulogy.”
“That’s… not comforting.”
“Want me to hold your hand instead?”
He stared.
She smirked.
“…Yes,” he whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.
Emma gently took his hand.
Warm. Steady. Surprisingly soft for a man who acted like a walking storm.
He exhaled, visibly calmer.
They stayed like that until the plane leveled.
Emma tried to let go.
Adrian didn’t.
His fingers tightened around hers. “Maybe one more minute.”
“You said you weren’t scared.”
“I lied. For pride reasons.”
Emma chuckled and let him hold her hand a bit longer.
When he finally released her, he turned slightly toward her. “So, Emma Lane. What takes you to Vienna? A conference? Vacation? Running away from someone?”
“How did you know my name?”
He pointed to her backpack. “You wrote it on your luggage tag. Twice. In pink marker.”
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to Vienna for work. I restore old paintings.”
He sat up straighter. “You’re an art restorer?”
“Yes.”
“That’s…” He paused. “That’s actually amazing.”
Emma flushed a little. “It’s just work.”
“No. It’s the kind of job people in movies have.”
She snorted. “And what do you do? Crash planes with your fear?”
“I’m a travel photographer.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Magazines. Documentaries. Mostly landscapes. Sometimes people.”
“So you take photos of beautiful places?”
“And now,” he grinned, tapping her book, “I get to sit next to someone reading self-help literature on how to stay single.”
She threw the book at him lightly.
He laughed—warm, deep, unexpectedly gentle.
And suddenly the flight didn’t feel so long.
The clouds outside glowed gold with the afternoon sun. Adrian leaned back, finally relaxed.
Emma glanced at him.
He wasn’t just handsome. He was… easy to talk to. Funny. Ridiculous in a charming, chaotic way.
And maybe… maybe she liked that he was a little afraid of flying.
It made him real.
The attendant walked by. “Can I get you two anything?”
Adrian pointed at Emma. “She’ll take a glass of courage. I’ll take a sedative.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Coffee for me. Water for him. He has fragile emotions.”
“HEY—”
Emma smirked. “You literally almost cried during takeoff.”
“That was the plane wobbling!”
“You whimpered.”
“I exhaled dramatically.”
She laughed again.
Adrian loosened his seatbelt with a sigh. “I think this is going to be the most chaotic flight of my life.”
Emma closed her book and smiled.
“Oh no,” she said. “Chaos only just started.”
