Chapter 3

You know you didn't have to go alone Luce

You could've brought me

I love free vacations

I smile at the string of texts coming in from my friend, Nora. She's been in my life since high school, but we didn't become too close until after the fiasco with my ex and my former best friend, Amy. Nora's been there for me in a big way. When it happened, she understood and knew the perfect things to say to comfort me. She's slowly becoming one of the most important people in my life.

I type out my reply.

Thx babe

Next time ok?

As I wait for a response, I check my watch, as I've now been doing every 5 minutes all day to make sure time doesn't slip away again. There's about five minutes before the plane starts boarding. The gate is bustling and filled with all sorts of ruckus. People chattering, children screaming, phones ringing, chip bags popping open.

I sort of hoped that, given the late time of the flight, things would be a bit mellow, but that's apparently notthe case. This is more chaotic than the daytime flight, even.

My phone buzzes and I'm expecting a reply from Nora but to my delight, it"s a message from my cat sitter, Emily. I open it and find myself grinning from ear to ear. There, staring back at me, are the two most important creatures in my life: Leo and Sasha. Emily has sent me a picture of them curled up together on the couch, looking utterly content and adorable. The message reads, "Just wanted to let you know that the kitties are doing great! They miss you, but they"re being well-behaved and enjoying lots of cuddles." A flood of warmth washes over me. Those two furry little beings mean the world to me, and knowing that they"re safe, happy, and cared for while I"m away fills me with an immense sense of relief and joy. I found Emily through a friend of a friend, and she has been amazing whenever I've had to go away. I quickly type out a reply, thanking Emily profusely and asking her to give them extra treats and chin scratches from me.

My phone buzzes again as a new bout of messages start to come through in quick succession. Nora is trying her best to comfort me.

You're gonna see a lot of happy couples at the wedding

Remember that statistically like 80% of them are unhappy and cheating on each other

So don't feel bad that you're alone

It's probably for the best

I bite back a smile as I hastily type a reply.

I don't think that math is quite right Nor

But thank you anyway

A static announcement rumbles over the loudspeakers like a fork in a garbage disposal, but I manage to catch Flight 282 to Providence now boarding Group A.

I quickly text Nora goodbye and gather my things, joining the growing queue behind the first-class passengers. Behind me, the line rapidly grows longer, almost starting to weave around the corner into the nearly empty restaurant on the other side of the waiting area.

I've always been a bit of an anxious flier, but the anxiety making me sick to my stomach feels much more severe than just minor flying nerves. It's like every sign keeps telling me to give up and go home. I'd never hurt my dad like that, but I can just tell this is going to be a horrible weekend. I've been to my dad's previous weddings. It's always the same. He makes a bunch of promises to some poor lady that I know he won't keep, we mingle, I tell the "happy couple" how perfect they are together, and then they get a divorce two years later. Only, this time, I'm going alone, and I just know my family has an arsenal of invasive questions ready.

Lucia, where is that handsome boyfriend of yours?

Lucia, when are you and Jace going to get married?

Lucia, have you thought about having children yet?

It is exhausting having to explain and justify yourself to a huge family. A traitorous part of me longs for Jace"s presence, craving the effortless charm he always brought to these gatherings. He had a gift for making everyone laugh, for easing the pressure on me with his quick wit and disarming smile. Even now, a year after our break-up, the thought of him sends a pang of sadness reverberating through my chest, the wounds of his betrayal still raw and aching.

I don"t miss him, not really. But I do miss the companionship, the sense of belonging I felt when we were together. I miss the person I was before everything fell apart, before loneliness became my constant companion, an emptiness that gnaws at my heart.

The truth is, I don"t have the strength to put on a brave face and deflect my family"s prying questions with vague, evasive answers. I want to tell them the unvarnished reality: that my boyfriend of seven years, the man I thought I"d spend my life with, cheated on me with my lifelong best friend. That the betrayal shattered me in ways I"m not sure I"ll ever fully recover from.

And, yet, here I am, part of the cattle being herded to live our perfect little lives. One person after the other, so similar, yet so irreconcilably different. It dispirits me sometimes just how dystopian everything seems to be lately. I suppose that's part of getting older, though. The switch from girlhood to womanhood is the realization that the world isn't as perfect as you thought it was. I've fought it and fought it, but the truth remains that life can be brutal, and guys are usually a part of that. At least in my case, they have been. I've made the all-too-easy decision that I'm going to remove half of the misery by cutting men out of my life completely. If I don't let them in, they can't hurt me. This is a tactic that Nor vehemently disagrees with, stating that there are two main joys in life, orgasms and food and depriving oneself of one of these is akin to a criminal act.

But I don't listen, I have to protect myself.

Making it to the front of the line I scan my ticket. I follow the people in front of me down the loading bridge until we all become jumbled together at the portal, shuffling in single-file. The only seats that are filled as I shove my way to the back of the plane are first and business class. I'm in the first row in economy, and I take that as a good sign. I desperately hope I won't have to sit next to some smelly, stuffy stranger or screaming kid. Or worse, somebody who wants to chat with me. This day has already been hard enough without having to make awkward small talk.

I settle into my seat and tuck my backpack under the row in front of me. I keep my eyes trained on the people trickling in and hold my breath until they pass my row.

I wait and wait, and the steady stream of people starts to slow. After a while, the flow seems to stop completely. I let myself celebrate, smiling to myself and relaxing into my seat.

Just as I'm about to spread out and make the extra space my own, a man bursts through the curtain separating business and economy.

My heart sinks. I check the rows around; there are no other open seats.

I watch the person stumble over someone's foot, then someone else's backpack. His hair is in his face, making it impossible for me to see if he gives off creeper vibes. When he stops at my row, he wipes his hair away from his face, and our eyes latch onto one and other.

You've got to be kidding me.

If I thought I was cursed before, I'm absolutely convinced now. I know this dude. Not only do I know him.

I hate him.

"Lucy?" he asks in surprise, his thick eyebrows raised to his hairline.

"Noah," I huff out in greeting, making myself as small in my seat as possible.

He better not even think about getting anywhere close to me.

Despite my wishes, he slides into the seat and tosses his navy backpack in the space between us. He's purposely not looking at me, and I'm doing the same.

I refuse to believe this is happening. Of all of the people to be stuck next to for five hours, him? I'm convinced I've made some cosmic entity angry because there is absolutely no way I'm sitting next to my nemesis from college. College.

I graduated nearly four years ago. The name Noah Laurier hasn't crossed my mind since. That prick made my life miserable, picking fight after fight with me in our Women's Literature "constructive group discussions" that were really just an excuse for the boys to be sexist pigs.

As I stare at him in disbelief, a particularly infuriating memory comes rushing back.

It was a crisp autumn day, and our class was engaged in a heated discussion about Virginia Woolf"s "A Room of One"s Own." I had just shared my thoughts on the importance of the essay in the context of women"s rights and the challenges female writers faced in a male-dominated society.

"Lucy, maybe if you lived more in the real world instead of burying your nose in books, you"d see things differently," Noah"s voice cut through the room, dripping with condescension. "Not everything is about oppression, you know. Some people just don"t have what it takes to make it, regardless of gender."

I felt a sharp pang in my chest, his words hitting closer to home than I cared to admit. It was true that I spent most of my time reading, often foregoing social events and parties in favour of losing myself in the pages of a good book. But that didn"t make my opinions any less valid, did it?

I tried to push down the hurt and focus on the anger bubbling up inside me. How dare he dismiss my perspective so casually, with such blatant disregard for the very real obstacles women have faced throughout history?

"That"s an incredibly ignorant and dismissive thing to say," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly. "Literature reflects and shapes our understanding of the world. Engaging with these texts is crucial to recognizing and dismantling the systemic barriers that have held women back for centuries."

Noah scoffed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Spare me the social justice warrior spiel. Sounds like someone"s been spending too much time in their feminist echo chamber."

The class erupted into a mix of gasps and snickers, and I felt my confidence waver, my arguments suddenly seeming flimsy in the face of his mockery.

Just as I'm sinking deeper into my chair, I hear the guy next to him, Greg whisper all too loudly "Jheeze, it's somebody's time of the month,". Noah snickers and whispers something back.

Noahand his group of frat clowns. They turned my favorite class into something to be dreaded.

He must sense my disdain. "Trust me," he grumbles, folding his arms against his chest, "I don't like this any more than you do, Lucy."

I scoff, ignoring the way blood rushes around me when he says my name. It's probably my fight or flight response telling me to run. "I doubt that."

Noah glares at me out of the corner of his eye, although I'm not quite sure why he's angry. I never gave him any reason to hold a grudge against me. If anything, I should be the one pitching a fit like a child, not him.

Noah sighs heavily and turns to fully meet my gaze. I'm uncomfortable under the weight of it. I'd forgotten how intense his hazel eyes can be when he's serious. They always used to intimidate me, embarrassingly so, no matter how much I'd hate to admit that out loud.

"Look," he starts. "The flight is full, and I really have no interest in getting off of this plane, so let's just agree to pretend like we don't know each other. Complete strangers. We won't speak a word to one another. And when we land in Providence, we'll forget this ever happened. The past will stay in the past."

Although agreeing with Noah in any form sickens me, I nod. "Fine. Strangers it is."

"Good."He turns back to stare rather angrily at the seat in front of him, and I do the same.

"Good."