Him by Carey Heywood (reading strategies book .txt) 📕

"Stop looking at my butt."

"Who's looking at your butt?"

Both of our heads turn to my brother, Brian, as he walks into the family room.

"Will is." I'm a total tattle tale.

Brian gives Will a weird look and goes to sit in a side chair closer to Will's side of the couch. He smacks Will across the top of his head as he walks past him, then points at him, then me, then back at him. Will nods, rubbing his head. It was like a whole conversation passed between them. I roll my eyes and pull the throw blanket off of the back of the couch, draping it over my torso and butt. Will just looks traumatized and keeps looking over at my brother every so often. He doesn’t relax until Brian declares we are watching stupid shit and leaves the room.

As soon as he is gone, Will looks at me. "Holy shit, I thought he was going to kick my ass there for a second."

I cover my mouth to stop from laughing. "How's your head?"

He raises one brow at me, rubbing his head. "You think that's funny?"

He reaches over to move the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table before grabbing my feet and tickling them. I'm kicking wildly trying to get away, but he has a vice grip on my ankles with one hand. Finally, I give up trying to get away. Instead, I manage to roll up onto him so I can tickle him back. He releases my ankles when my fingertips push into his armpits. He tries to get away, but I'm pretty much in his lap at this point. Will tenses his arms close to his sides so I can't even wiggle my fingers but I can't remove them either.

I tilt my head at him. "Relax, Will."

"Nope, you're untrustworthy."

I grin. He knows me too well. The second I would have been able to move my fingers I was going to tickle him some more but, out of nowhere, he stands and plops me on my end of the couch, quickly sitting back down and covering himself with the throw blanket. What the hell? I give him a look. He shrugs, looking straight ahead.

"Are you cold?"

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. I readjust my shorts in the hopes of eliminating any gaps. I can see him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" I ask. "You took my blanket."

Will shifts in his seat before he balls it up and tosses it at me, hitting me in the face.

"You suck."

He grins.

Chapter 3

Present

"Now boarding Zone Five." The announcement sounds like it’s coming out of one of those fast food drive thru window speakers. I turn toward the sound and stand, reaching into my purse for my boarding pass. They had announced earlier that this was a full flight, so I had already volunteered to have my carry-on checked since I knew they would check it whether I wanted them to or not once I was boarding.

I am heading home. This will be my first visit since after that night. I get in line to board the plane, that slow, awkward shuffle of passing everyone who is already seated. Pausing as the people in front of me find their seats. All the while I chant a hopeful thought within my mind. Please let me sit next to someone normal. Please let me sit next to someone normal.

I am flying home to Atlanta, Georgia. Can you still call a place home if you haven’t lived or even visited there in years? I think to myself. Maybe I should call it the place I grew up, but that doesn’t feel right either. This trip is a big deal for me. I am something of a workaholic, and I'm taking a whole week off. Work keeps me busy. I like being busy. As long as I am, I don’t think about, well, stuff. If I was working right now, I might be flying to Seattle or Chicago or, hell, anywhere else. I relax when I finally make it to my seat.

I'm in 21D, an aisle seat. At least that means I won’t be stuck in the middle, fighting for elbow space on both sides. There is an older woman already sitting in 21E, her elbows firmly on both armrests. Great. I sink into my seat, pulling my ereader and a stick of gum out of my purse before stowing it under the seat in front of me. I might be able to read for ten minutes before they announce we have to turn off all electronics. The book I am reading is the latest in a series that I love. It was released the day before, and I am inhaling it.

I am at a really good part when the turn off all electronics light comes on. Groaning, I turn it off and pop my gum into my mouth. I travel frequently for work but still am not any less nervous about flying. I zone out as the attendant goes over the safety procedures. I have heard this before. We are moving, preparing for takeoff. I look around the cabin and cannot help but stare at the man sitting in 20C. I can't see his face, only the back of his head. He has thick dark brown hair, and there is a subtle wave to it that the cabin lights catch. It is run-your-fingers-through-it worthy hair. I don’t remember seeing him sitting there when I boarded.

My gaze lingers on his broad shoulder. I can only see the right one. I have to assume the left one matches. He is reading a book, which I find hot. I am enthralled as I watch his fingers lazily turn the next page. His fingers are long, strong, I can see a freckle on the knuckle of his right thumb. Why does that seem familiar? All at once I remember, all those years ago,