You and Me on Vacation

by Emily Henry

As soon as we lift off and the cabin lights dim, though, the exhaustion kicks in and I find myself being lulled to sleep, head resting on Alex’s shoulder, a small pool of drool accumulating on his shirt, only to jolt awake when the plane hits a pocket of air that makes it dip and Alex accidentally elbows me in the face in response. “Shit!” he gasps as I sit bolt upright, clutching my cheek. “Shit!” His white knuckles are clamped around the armrests, the rise and fall of his chest shallow. “Are you afraid of flying?” I ask. “No!” he whispers, considerate of the other sleeping passengers even in his panic. “I’m afraid of dying.” “You’re not going to die,” I promise. The jet settles into a rhythm, but the seat belt light comes on and Alex keeps gripping the armrests like someone’s flipped the plane upside down and started trying to shake us out. “That doesn’t seem good,” he says. “It sounded like something broke off the plane.” “That was the sound of your elbow smashing into my face.” “What?” He looks over. The two simultaneous expressions on his face are surprise and confusion. “You hit me in the face!” I tell him. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Sorry. Can I see?”