I sipped at my drink. It was tart and sweet. I guess it was like the cranberry sauce we had at Thanksgiving, but that was usually eaten with dressing or a biscuit. This drink had pucker power. I laughed softly.
“You enchant me, my darling,” Timothy said, leaning closer to whisper in my ear.
“Why?” I asked, turning to face him. “Because I almost mashed your hand into black and blue bruises?”
He let out a laugh that turned heads in our direction. But with all the eyes on him, he only shrugged and smiled. That was all it took. Everyone stopped frowning and went back to their activities.
“Everything about you pleases me. Even the way you’re testing that cranberry juice as if it’s startling new, and you haven’t decided whether you like it or not.”
“It’s awfully sweet,” I said, not sure what to do with something I didn’t want any more of.
Timothy took the glass from me. “Are you done with it?” he asked. When I nodded, he drank the rest. I think he liked it better than I did, or at least, he didn’t pucker his lips like I had.
“Too bad we don’t have time for a movie,” he said. “But I want you to open your water and drink some. Cabin air is dry. Your body needs the water.”
Like an obedient child, I twisted off the bottle top and drank a few sips. There was no way I planned on walking to the bathroom on a plane high up in the sky. I guess I was slightly curious about what a toilet room looked like on an airplane, but I could just look it up on the Internet if I was really that snoopy.