Layover in Love Ch. 01

The plane smelled like badly recirculated air and off brand peanuts, and as I walked down the narrow aisle, bumping elbows and dodging knees, I kept replaying the last thing Ami said to me.

"You're pathetic. I need, no I fucking deserve, a real man. Real men not some fucking law graduate loser."

Row 22. Window seat. I didn't look up when I passed row 14, the one we sat in on our trip to London. I could still picture her there, curled up in the window seat with my hoodie around her shoulders, legs folded like she owned the sky.

Now, I was alone. And heading toward someone who knew the best and worst parts of me and stayed anyway. That's what best friends were there for right?

Finding my seat I shoved my backpack under, and breathed out slowly. This flight wasn't about running away I kept telling myself, even though all my dreams were of a place far from this city. I just wanted to remember who I was before everything fell apart. 'Was that even possible' I thought with a huff and a grimace.

Jen would be waiting at the gate in Santa Barbra, and they always knew how to stitch me back together without pretending it didn't hurt.

My pity party was promptly interrupted by the appearance of a pair of toned legs dominating my peripheral. Try as hard as I might I couldn't help but shoot a cursory glance at the presumed occupant of Row 22, Aisle. If the tanned and toned, legs were the appetiser then the main course was served by a perfect petite figure framed by a cropped sweatshirt that fell just right on her. As she reached up to stow her baggage in the overhead bins that sweatshirt rode up showing off a similarly toned midriff and the hint of underboob. Immediately my eyes snapped back to the on board entertainment, flicking through screens seruptuousely hoping I hadn't been caught in my teenagesc ogling.

Stowing over, my companion for the next 7 and a half hours slipped into the seat beside me. Moments, but what felt like a silent cumbersome age, later the captain's voice crackled through the aged intercom, and just like that I was airborne. Free.

Doing my best to forget my companion beside me was difficult, not least because the subtle scent of vanilla seemed to be drifting from her skin. Intoxicating in the way that made me want to lean just a little closer. Instead I focused on the tiny, washed-out screen embedded in the seatback in front of me. Friends. Season 5. The one where Ross is fine. Not because I was, but because it felt safely distant -- funny in a way that didn't ask anything from me.

Then, just as Ross tried to sell everyone on how totally okay he was with Rachel and Joey, a soft laugh bubbled up beside me. Quiet, involuntary. And it wasn't mine. I turned my head slightly. She had one hand over her mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, cheeks flushing. "I wasn't watching... I mean, I was, but not on purpose. I forgot my headphones, and I was bored, and--"

I laughed -- really laughed -- for the first time in weeks. "You've got excellent taste," I said, grinning. "You should've just asked to share."

She relaxed a little, the tension leaving her shoulders as she smiled back. "I'm Kat," she said. "Katherine, technically. But everyone just calls me Kat - please call me Kat." She offered with a final desperate plea.

"Alex," I replied, offering a hand, which she took without hesitation. Her grip was warm and confident. "Nice to meet you, Katherine-please-god-call-me-Kat."

She gave a soft snort. "I'm flying back home. Was visiting a friend in New York. You?"

I hesitated, not wanting to trauma dump on a poor unsuspecting soul no matter how cute they were. "Running away," I said with a half-shrug. "Or toward something. Depends on the day. Kat looked at me, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, and then nodded like she got it more than she let on.

A few minutes passed in companionable silence. Then she leaned in slightly, her voice low.

"Mile high club."

I blinked. "What?"

She gestured -- not at me, but toward the front of the plane. I followed her eyes and spotted a couple trying, very unsuccessfully, to be discreet as they squeezed into the airplane bathroom together.

Kat hissed the words again, barely suppressing a grin. "Mile. High. Club."

I choked on a laugh, turning my face away as the blush crept up my neck. "Oh my God."

Her grin widened. "Relax babe, I wasn't trying to drag you in there!."

"No, I didn't think you were, I just--" I paused, then laughed again. "Honestly? I don't know what I would've said if you had been." I felt my cheeks redden at her use of 'babe' and tried to play it off - unsuccessfully I'm sure.

She tilted her head, playful curiosity sparking behind her eyes. "Would that have been a yes?"

I looked at her, really looked, and for a second the plane, the breakup, the wreckage of the past few weeks all faded into the background. I didn't answer her question -- just gave a lopsided smile and said, "You always eavesdrop and flirt with strangers, Kat, or am I just special?"

She grinned. "Guess you'll have to make it to Santa Barbara to find out." If my face wasn't already radish coloured then that comment tipped it over the edge.

From there, we just talked--nothing more. And to my surprise, it was... nice. Nice to connect with another human being--someone I had nothing in common with and would likely never see again. For the last few hours into Santa Barbara, it was easy, idle conversation. Never awkward or forced. Somehow, Kat brought out a newfound confidence in me--the kind usually kindled over years of friendship

As we packed up to leave, both of us fumbling in the cramped, awkward confines of the cabin, I helped her bring her bag down--a small gesture that seemed to catch her off guard. We walked to the gate in a quiet, almost reverent silence, as if mourning the end of something unreal, something outside the bounds of everyday life. With each step, the confidence I'd felt earlier drained away, replaced by the full weight of the reality I'd been trying to escape. And there I was, standing next to this stunning woman, talking to her like I had any sort of chance.

"Alex," she said. "I... erm..." She wore that look--wanting to say something, but not sure how. I wasn't any better. Just stood there like an idiot, nearly ruining the moment by awkwardly sticking out my hand for a handshake--only to be saved when she leaned in for a hug

As she stepped in, her arms sliding lightly around me, the hug was brief but electric--just long enough to leave a mark. Her cropped hoodie left a sliver of warm skin between us, soft against the cool press of the cabin air. I could feel the outline of her frame--petite but confident, her body lean and sun-kissed, fitting against mine like we'd known each other longer than a few hours. There was nothing overt, nothing spoken, but something passed between us in that quiet embrace--something that lingered after she let go.

Without a word--and what might've been a flush, maybe even the glint of a tear--she turned and walked toward the baggage claim. Was she sad to leave? Or was I just imagining it? I lingered a second, trying to steady myself, gather my thoughts, and--awkwardly--will away the growing boner. Since when did a hug do that? I exhaled, gave myself a small shake, and started after her. Time to find Jen.

Jen--Jenantha--had been my best friend for the past 25 years. We met in nursery school and formed a bond that only deepened over time. I was the first person she came out to when we were 14. I still remember the way she looked that day--scared, vulnerable, searching my face for signs of shame as she laid bare her biggest secret, her heart trembling in the open.

Truthfully, I'd been shocked--and, if I'm honest, a little disappointed. I'd had a crush on her for a few years by then. But I swallowed all of that, pulled her into a giant hug, one I hoped said I love you, it's okay, and it will always be okay.

Funnily enough, it was the Jene kind of hug we found ourselves in now.

One of her arms was wrapped tightly around my neck, the other holding up a sign that read Alex Chance - Sexual Health Clinic Pickup. Her head was pressed against my chest, my chin resting lightly on top of hers. For the first time in weeks, I felt a strange, quiet peace settle over me.

It didn't take long to get to her place -- a sleek first-floor condo overlooking West Beach. How she managed to afford it, I hadn't the faintest clue, but damn, the view was something else. Endless blue surf crashing against the golden sand, bronzed bodies soaking in the sun -- yeah, you could lose yourself here. I leaned on the balcony rail, watching the promenade buzz with summer heat, and for a second, I let myself imagine staying. But NYC was still home. This? This was a little escape -- a sun-drenched retreat from reality.

I'd barely started unpacking in Jen's spare room when her voice floated through from the master.

"We hitting the beach straight away or what?"

"Yeah, sure," I called back.

"That wasn't a question," she fired, voice laced with amusement. I could practically hear the smirk behind it.

Grinning, I grabbed a pair of board shorts, tugged them on, and wandered toward her room without thinking. Old habits -- we'd always been close. No walls, no filters.

The moment I opened her door, though, I knew I'd fucked up.

A startled squeak, then, "Shit, Alex -- fuck! Knock, won't you?!"

But it was too late. The sight hit me like a freight train.

She was bent over, tugging her bikini bottoms up, ass pointed straight at me -- two perfect, round cheeks framed like a damn sculpture in motion. Tight, smooth, and utterly mesmerizing. That wasn't just an ass -- it was an M&S ass.

And just beneath that curve, a glimpse of heaven -- her bare pussy, glistening ever so slightly in the soft afternoon light. Swollen, slick, and maddeningly beautiful. My breath caught. I felt a twitch in my shorts, brain short-circuiting as thoughts I had no right to think came rushing in. I couldn't help but wonder how sweet she tasted, how her thighs would tighten around my face, how that slick heat would feel wrapped around my tongue.

Then, like a snap, reality returned with her yelping and scrambling to pull her bottoms up. Arms crossed over her chest, she darted into the ensuite, slamming the door behind her.

"Fuck, Jen -- I'm sorry!" I called, heat flooding my face -- and other places. "I didn't think, I swear. Shit... I'm really sorry. You okay? I'll, uh, just wait in my room... Fuck... I'm so sorry."

God, I felt like the world's biggest idiot, slouched on the edge of my bed, my cheeks still burning hot with humiliation. My thoughts were racing, I could still feel the heat pooling in my chest, and lower. But, mercifully, Jen didn't leave me to stew in it for long. I heard the soft, deliberate pad-pad of her bare feet approaching, each step almost teasing.

"Come on, AC," she called, that familiar sing-song voice laced with mischief. "That beach ain't gonna hit itself!"

Trust Jen to breeze through the awkwardness like it was just another Tuesday. She carried herself with that Jene blazing confidence I'd always admired--utterly fearless, single-minded, a storm wrapped in sun-kissed skin.

"Jen..." I started as I made my way to the door, guilt tumbling from my mouth like marbles. "I'm so fucking sorry! I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to--I mean, yeah, I saw stuff, but I wasn't trying to look, I just--"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Jen was standing there in the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips, the curve of her body hugged by a maroon bikini cover-up that barely concealed her sun-warmed skin. A wicked grin curled at her lips and soon she was holding back laughter. "AC, chill," she said, with a playful lilt. "You've seen it all before... well, not this." She gestured down her own body with an exaggerated sweep, letting the fabric shift just enough to flash a little more of that soft sunkissed skin. "But c'mon, babe--we're both adults. And, let's be real..." Her eyes flicked lower--way lower--until they settled between my legs.

To my horror, her gaze zeroed in on the undeniable swell of my cock straining against the fabric of my shorts, the outline unmistakable and way too obvious. I stiffened--figuratively, this time--wanting to fold into myself and disappear.

"... you've got the wrong equipment for me to be worried about you, hun," she added with a wink, her voice full of delicious teasing.

Then, with a little bounce in her step, she turned, smacking her peach-perfect ass with one hand and tossing me a saucy look over her shoulder. "Let's get you cooled off in the water, shall we?"

I groaned quietly, trailing after her, trying desperately to will my cock into cooperation--and failing. Jen was already halfway down the hall, barefoot and glowing, the picture of trouble.

And I was following her to the beach like a good boy--with a very bad problem in my shorts.

If we thought hitting the beach would help cool me down then we were dead wrong.

The moment we stepped onto the sand, it was like walking into an erotic fantasy. Skin was everywhere, glistening and golden under the sun, torsos flexing, legs stretching, curves begging to be stared at. The soft, sultry thump of music drifted from the beachside bars, setting the rhythm, and the bodies swayed with it

We found a quieter spot off to the side of the main crowd, laid our towels down, and I immediately threw myself stomach-first onto mine. I had to. My cock was still frustratingly semi-hard, and every glimpse of bare skin sent a jolt straight to it. I buried my face into my towel and tried--tried--to think about anything else. Cold showers. Algebra. Margaret Thatcher. Anything but the warm, pulsing need that had taken root between my legs and refused to let go.

Fuck, what was wrong with me today? Sure, I was horny often enough, I had a decent sex drive. But this? This was next level. This was... desperate. I bit back a groan.

Then Jen lay down beside me, her body sinking into the towel with a luxurious little sigh. And that's when I noticed--her bikini cover-up was gone.

I swallowed hard.

She was now wearing that set--the one I'd walked in on her slipping into earlier. A sleek, jet-black bikini with gleaming gold fastenings, the kind that screamed Bond girl meets goddess. The high-cut bottoms rode up on her hips, emphasizing the soft flare of her curves, making her already mouth-watering ass look like an pair of sunkissed mountains, and honestly I wanted to explore them. Not that it needed help in that department.

I was caught in that torturous place between not looking and needing to look. Every instinct in my body was screaming for more--just one more glance--and my eyes were traitors.

They slid up from her hips to her waist, where her stomach lay soft and smooth, the kind of softness that begged to be touched, held, worshipped. That hint of puppy fat only made her feel more real, more intimate. It was the kind of body you wanted to curl around, to pull tight against your own until you couldn't tell where you ended and she began.

But it was her breasts that truly undid me.

Fuck.

Perfect wasn't even the word. Full, heavy, deliciously round, they sat high without a trace of sag, like they wanted to be admired. Her bikini top struggled to contain them, its black fabric pulled taut across her chest, two soft mounts showing off the promise of nipples to be loved on, the gold clasps catching the light with every subtle rise and fall of her breathing. They were more than a handful, two handfuls even, and fuck I wanted them. I wanted my best friend. My lesbian best friend. What the fuck.

I shifted slightly, grinding my hips against the towel, trying to discreetly adjust the growing ache between my legs.

This beach wasn't going to help a damn thing Sure, the breeze was a welcome tease, gliding across my bare skin and ruffling my hair like a gentle lover's hand. The sun warmed every inch of me, and for a moment, I tried to let the heat melt away the tension coiled tight in my chest. I focused on the rhythmic crash of the waves, the buzz of laughter in the distance, the low pulse of music that seemed to sync with my racing thoughts.

God, it felt good to be out here. Free. But no matter how deep I breathed, I couldn't shake the weight pressing down on me.

"Dude, rub some cream in for me?" Jen's voice cut through my haze--low, relaxed, but edged with that unmistakable playfulness she always wore like perfume. She held out the bottle with one hand while already rolling onto her stomach with the other, stretching out across her towel.

It wasn't a request. We both knew it.

I took the bottle with a grunt of reluctant amusement and straddled the edge of her towel. "And while you're at it," she added, glancing over her shoulder, "how are you? Like, really--what do you need, Alex?"

The question hung there, heavier than the heat.

I popped the cap and squeezed some of the lotion into my palm. It was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of her back as I pressed it to her bare skin. She gave a little shiver, then settled in with a satisfied sigh as I began to work the cream across her shoulders, gliding slowly, kneading gently. Her muscles softened under my touch, and for a minute, there was only the slick sound of skin on skin, the slow drag of my fingers over her warm, golden body.

"It's fucked, Jen," I said finally, the words cracking in my throat. "Ami... she cheated on me. Not just once. Multiple times. Told me last week--wanted to open the relationship up. Said she needed 'real men.' Like... getting a taste of it made her realize she might love me, but she needs more..."

There was a pause--then Jen snorted.

"Yeah, more fucking therapy by the sound of it," she muttered, voice sharp with that protective edge she usually reserved for bar creeps.

I blinked. She never got into my relationship stuff.

But she kept going, her tone softening, just a touch. "Seriously, dude. If she let you go, she's a fucking idiot. You're the best guy I know--and trust me, I don't usually hand out compliments to men. If you catch my drift."

I smiled faintly, warmth flickering through the hurt.

"And hey..." she continued, voice dripping with mischief now. "If you want, I could introduce you to a couple of the guys from the clubs. They're sweet, very generous, and you'll only be walking funny for, I don't know, three days max."

I laughed, rolling my eyes, and in a flash of impulse, gave her perfect, bikini-clad ass a playful swat.

It jiggled deliciously under my hand--round, full, sun-kissed--and I swear I caught the faintest sound from her lips. A moan, barely there. Gone before I could be sure.

Jen didn't miss a beat, though. "Mmm. Careful, dude. Keep that up and I might start to think about switching teams."

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands as she chuckled and propped herself up on her elbows, dark strands of hair falling around her face as she pushed her sunglasses up just enough to scan the beach.

"You're with me for two weeks," she said firmly. "So, we're doing this my way. No more moping. You gave that cheating bitch two years of your life. So for the next two weeks, it's all about you."

I raised an eyebrow as she turned her head and grinned at me, wild and wicked.

"Starting now," she purred, eyes flicking through the crowd like a cat on the prowl. "So... who's first?"

This started a game. Jen, ever the mischievous matchmaker, began scanning. Picking out girls one by one, watching my reactions with am almost too keen an interest.

"There's one," she murmured, tilting her head toward a tall redhead lounging under a striped umbrella. Her legs seemed to go on forever, her high-cut bikini bottom clinging to hips. She was sipping something pink, licking her straw with a little too much practice. I raised an eyebrow.

"Mm," Jen smirked. "Too high-maintenance. She'd have you carrying her tanning oil like a lapdog."

Next came a petite brunette, her hair tied in a loose bun, swaying to the beat of the music with a playfully fluid rhythm. Her body moved like she'd been born on a dance floor--hips rolling, chest bouncing in a neon yellow top that left very little to the imagination. She caught my glance, smiled, and bit her lip.

Jen made a soft tsk. "That one? Babe, she'd fuck you and ghost you before your shorts hit the floor."

Then, a curvy beauty in a sheer white cover-up walked by, the sun glowing through the fabric, outlining every soft, perfect curve beneath. Her full breasts jiggled with each step, nipples barely concealed. Her lips were plush, glistening, and her eyes--dark and dangerous--landed briefly on me with a spark of curiosity.

Jen snorted. "Nope. Drama, with a capital D. I've seen that type. You'd be crying into your calamari in less than a week."

I groaned. "You asked who I wanted, and now you're rejecting all of them."

"I'm curating, babe," she said with a wink, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "This is rebound sex. It's got to be fun, dirty, and uncomplicated. No emotions. No regrets. Just sweat, skin, and a lot of moaning."

Her voice dipped into something more sultry, and for a second, I forgot we were just talking. My cock twitched again, annoyingly present in my shorts, and Jen--of course--noticed.

She grinned like the devil in sunglasses.

"Oh? Getting excited already?" she purred. "Don't worry. We'll find your perfect little beach bunny. Someone to fuck that heartbreak right out of you that sound good?

It'd sound better if you could turn back time," I said. The burning throb in my shorts was still stubbornly persistent, but now it wasn't the many possible beach bunnies I was thinking about.

It was Kat.

The memory hit me like a freight train: her laugh, the vanilla warmth of her perfume, the way her body had curved against mine in that brief, perfect hug. My cock twitched at the thought. Fuck.

Jen cocked an eyebrow at me, always the mind-reader, her grin half smug, half curious. "Alright, spill it. Who is she?"

And just like that, I relented. I told her everything. About Kat. About the flight. About the way she'd slid into the seat beside me like she belonged there. About how she'd teased and flirted with that infuriating, sexy confidence that had made me feel seen for the first time in weeks. Months, maybe.

I told her how she laughed at my show, called me babe like it wasn't a big deal, and made everything feel a little less heavy. I told her about the hug, too--how it started as just a goodbye and ended as something... more. Something I hadn't been able to stop thinking about since.

I probably described her too much. Definitely too much. I could see Jen's smirk deepening with every detail, but I couldn't stop.

I told her how Kat's body had felt in my arms--tight, toned, but soft in all the right places. That little exposed sliver of skin where her sweatshirt had lifted--God, it had branded itself into my memory. Her scent--clean and sweet and dangerously addictive. The warmth of her thighs brushing mine when she leaned in close, whispering secrets about strangers fucking in airplane bathrooms like we were co-conspirators in something wicked.

"She had this... glow," I said, voice quieter now, almost reverent. "Like she knew she was hot, but didn't need to flaunt it. Every move she made felt... deliberate. Like she was playing a game and I didn't even know the rules."

Jen laughed under her breath, but there was no mockery in it. Just interest. Maybe even a little understanding.

"Damn, AC," she said, stretching out on her towel like a lounging cat. "You really fell for her, huh?"

"I didn't even try," I muttered, turning my face toward the ocean. The shame stung more than I'd expected. "Didn't ask for her number. Didn't ask to see her again. I just... let her walk away. I'm a wreck Jen, I ket her walk away just like I let Ami walk over me and do whatever she wanted."

The ache in my chest was almost as bad as the one in my shorts. Almost.

"She hugged me like..." I trailed off, trying to find the words. "Like it meant something. Like she felt it too. Her tits pressed into me just enough to make me want to lose my goddamn mind, but it wasn't just that. It was everything. The way her fingers curled a little when she let go. The look in her eyes right before she turned away. It was... electric."

Jen turned onto her side, head propped on her hand, watching me with a slow, amused smile. "You sound like a guy who wants to fuck her and write her love letters."

"I do," I groaned, burying my face in the crook of my arm. "Jesus, Jen, I'm a mess. I swear the second I hugged her, I got hard. I felt it, and I know she felt it too, and she didn't say a damn word. Just gave me that look like... like she could've ruined me if she wanted to."

Jen whistled low. "And you let that go?"

"Like a fucking idiot."

We fell into silence for a moment, only the sound of the surf and the distant thump of beachside music filling the air. Jen let out a long sigh beside me, the kind that meant something was brewing. Something meddlesome.

"Dude, seriously..." she said, glancing over. "You like this girl?"

I blinked at the water, avoiding her face. "Yeah," I admitted, voice low. "Fucked, isn't it?"

She huffed a laugh -- more amused than sympathetic. "Maybe. Maybe not. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her oversized flannel, fingers swiping with deliberate intent. Then she angled the screen toward me, a wicked little smirk tugging at her lips.

"This look anything like her?"

My breath caught There, lounging beside a pool drenched in sun, wearing a perfect olive-green one-piece -- was Kat. Legs long, posture lazy, expression unreadable behind dark glasses.

"What the fuck," I hissed, snatching the phone closer like it might vanish. "How do you-- How the hell do you know her?"

Jen's smirk faltered for half a second, colour brushing up her neck. A slow blush, guilty in that way that made you want to pry more.

"Through work," she said casually. Too casually.

I squinted. "What work?"

"Graphics," she replied, breezily. "Design. Marketing shit, you know. Santa Barbara's not that big, dude. We don't work together, just... Jene circles."

Then she hesitated -- just long enough for me to feel it coming.

"But," she said, "I could set you up."

My stomach flipped. Violently. I sat back in the sand like she'd just handed me a live grenade.

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, you're clearly obsessed," she teased, scrolling again. "And Kat's cool."

"You think she'd actually say yes?" I asked, quieter now. A part of me already grieving the rejection I hadn't even received.

Jen shrugged. I was too busy spiraling to notice her nimble fingers flying across the screen until I heard the artificial shutter-click. I turned sharply -- too late.

"What the hell are you doing?" I said, panic spiking through me, suddenly my sweating was just because of the heat.

"Just asking Kat," she said nochenantly, tapping away without looking at me.

"Jen!" I gasped, grabbing for the phone. "You could've waited to hear if I actually wanted that!"

"Too late, you love-struck idiot," she laughed, tossing her phone into her bag. "I'm the best wingwoman you'll ever have."

She nudged my shoulder with her own, voice lowering conspiratorially.

"So you better get ready," she murmured. "Because you've got a hot date tonight."