Flight 6

I was sorting through my uniform, getting ready for another long flight, when I heard my colleague, Jenna, speak from behind me. She always had this uncanny ability to catch me off guard when I wasn’t expecting it.

“Isla,” she began, a teasing note in her voice, “you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

I didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who she was talking about. I’d been avoiding it for days, weeks now, but of course, someone else had to notice. Jenna had been one of my closest friends in the airline industry for years, and she knew me too well. She knew how to read the signs. But I had learned long ago that sometimes, it’s easier to deflect than to confront.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my tone cool and controlled, though I felt a flicker of nervousness in my chest. I was trying my best to remain unaffected. Trying to make sure my emotions didn’t get the best of me.

“Oh, come on,” Jenna said, walking over and leaning against the counter beside me. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way Adrian Blackwell looks at you. It's like he’s trying to figure you out.”

I sighed inwardly, my stomach tightening at the mention of Adrian's name. I’d tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that whatever strange connection I felt wasn’t real, but it was getting harder to deny. There was something there. Something unspoken, a magnetic pull between us. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let it affect me.

“Jenna, he’s just a passenger. I’m just doing my job,” I said, slipping my uniform into my bag and zipping it up a little too forcefully. I had to remind myself of that—he was just another wealthy person in a long line of passengers I’d served over the years. Another face in the crowd.

She raised an eyebrow at me, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “You’re telling me that Adrian Blackwell, the billionaire, the guy who probably has women throwing themselves at him left and right, doesn’t catch your attention? You’re not that immune, Isla.”

I shook my head, refusing to engage further. Jenna had always been the more open one when it came to relationships. She loved the idea of love—of romance, of the excitement that came with flirting, with falling for someone. I wasn’t like that. I’d seen too many of my colleagues get swept up in the idea of a relationship with a passenger, only to have it fall apart the second they landed. Love wasn’t something I had time for, nor did I think it was something I could afford.

“I’m immune, all right,” I replied dryly, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “And besides, Jenna, I’ve seen what happens when flight attendants get involved with passengers. It’s never pretty. It always ends in heartache.”

Jenna snorted, clearly unimpressed by my argument. “Oh, please. You’ve seen the drama, but you’ve never experienced it. Just once, maybe you should let yourself live a little. What’s the harm?”

The harm was everything. The harm was getting too close to someone like Adrian Blackwell, who existed in a world so far removed from mine that it was almost laughable. The harm was allowing myself to feel something for a man who had everything I didn’t—power, control, wealth—and nothing I needed.

I had learned the hard way that mixing emotions with work was a disaster. Flight attendants were supposed to be professional, detached, efficient. We weren’t supposed to get tangled up in the lives of the passengers. I had seen it all—the crushes, the fantasies, the entanglements that came with being in such close proximity to people with power. And the thing that always struck me was how quickly it all unraveled. Relationships born out of those fleeting moments in the air never lasted. They were like shooting stars—bright for a moment, and then gone before you could even make a wish.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in love—I did, in my own way. But after the years of heartache, of betrayal, of watching people promise the world only to leave you in the dark, I wasn’t willing to take that risk again. Not with someone like Adrian.

“You know I don’t have time for drama,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve got enough on my plate with my schedule, and I’m not interested in complications, especially not with a passenger. So, let’s just drop it, okay?”

Jenna eyed me carefully for a moment, as if trying to read the truth behind my words. She was smart, too smart for her own good sometimes, and I knew she wasn’t convinced. But she let it go, or at least pretended to. She flashed me a grin before pulling me into a quick hug.

“Fine, fine. But you know where to find me if you change your mind,” she teased. “I’m just saying, you might want to open yourself up to the idea of something real. You deserve it.”

I didn’t respond to that, because the truth was, Jenna didn’t understand. She didn’t know what it was like to constantly be on guard, to have your heart locked away for years because you feared what would happen if you let it slip. She didn’t know the weight of watching your colleagues fall into relationships with passengers, only to have them end in tears and awkward encounters in the crew lounge. She didn’t understand the quiet ache of wanting something you couldn’t have, and knowing that even if you could have it, it wouldn’t be worth the inevitable fallout.

As I made my way to the boarding gate for my next flight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Jenna was right. There was something about Adrian that I couldn’t ignore. Something that pulled me in, despite my best efforts to keep my distance. But I pushed those thoughts away, buried them under the weight of my responsibilities. I wasn’t going to be like those other flight attendants. I wasn’t going to get caught up in a brief, passing moment with a passenger.

I had been in this business long enough to know better.

I could feel the hum of the aircraft as we climbed to cruising altitude, the familiar sound of the engines, the constant chatter of passengers. But my thoughts kept drifting back to Adrian, despite myself. I tried to focus on my duties—passing out drinks, making sure the passengers were comfortable, maintaining that professional distance. But there was a part of me that couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let go of my fears for once. To let someone in, to trust that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t hurt me.

But no matter how many times I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for him, the truth was: I was already halfway there.

As the hours passed, I tried to concentrate on my work, but Adrian’s presence lingered in the back of my mind like a shadow. I told myself it was nothing more than fleeting curiosity, nothing more than the natural reaction to the quiet intensity he radiated. But deep down, I knew better. The connection between us was undeniable. And though I wasn’t ready to admit it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was only delaying the inevitable.

At the end of the flight, when we were preparing to land, I saw Adrian again, sitting quietly in his seat, his eyes closed as if trying to shut out the rest of the world. For a moment, I felt that same familiar tug—the pull that kept me wondering about him, even though I knew better. I quickly turned away, focusing on the tasks at hand, pretending I didn’t feel anything at all.

But I knew the truth.

And deep down, I also knew that I was only a step away from letting myself get pulled into his world—into the complicated, dangerous place where emotions had no place, where vulnerability was a weakness, and where my heart had no business being.