Page 18 of Triple Protection
"Absolutely not." Alex complains, his arms folded against his chest.
"Absolutely yes," Angela calmy spits back.
"You're not switching seats. We bought these for a reason. It's not safe."
Angela rolls her eyes at him, and I watch in fascination as Alex's nostrils flare. He hates not being in control. He hates brats, and that's exactly what Anegla is being.
"I already have switched my seats. And explain to me any scenario that could happen in an enclosed aircraft, with Liam sitting next to me and you two in First Class that could be dangerous. I'll wait."
I stifle my chuckle. She has his number there, and it is for a good cause. She isn't being a brat just to be a pain. She's doing it to make a single mother and her sick kid more comfortable. I enjoy seeing Alex squirm sometimes, though, and this is oneof those occasions where his aversion to change is unwarranted. We are stuck in a tin can for three hours with a bunch of other people who have already gone through security. Plus, I'm going to squeeze her against the window so I can protect her from the aisle.
Alex huffs, but his shoulders soften.
"Well, at least you sit in First Class, and I'll sit in economy with Liam." He offers. He is being... sweet? I crinkle my nose in confusion.
"Alex, you're a million feet tall and almost as wide. I'm not going to have you bitching about your knees from being forced to economy. Your normal personality is already so pleasant." She adds sarcastically, before sighing and getting serious again. "I'm smaller. It'll be more comfortable for you." She finishes, her voice soft and caring. Is she being... sweet? I expected that from her, but maybe not towards him. He'd been a rude asshole to her from day one, and she’s still worried about making sure he’s comfortable.
"Shall we?" she asks, holding out her hand for me to take it.
Angel and I cram into our economy seats and wait for the rest of the plane to board. It's a tight fit for my long legs, but what Angela has done for that family is worth the cramped space. At 6'2 I technically am the smallest of the three of us, and I am thinner than Brick or Alex, but 'small' is still a relatively subjective term.
We pass the mother and daughter in first class and shoot them easy smiles.
"I'm sorry you had to switch seats with me. I couldn't very well have Emma in first class alone." Angel says as the engines rev and the lights dim.
"No worries, I am the smallest of us, so it makes sense."
Angela snorts adorably. "Small," she whispers to herself. She grabs the knee closest to her and moves my leg so I can stretchout into the chair in front of her, giving me more leg room, and lifts the arm rest, giving me more room for my arms and shoulders.
I'm excited to get a few hours of alone time with Angela. We've been living together for a few weeks now, but we are all still getting used to each other's presence. There is always a 'warm up' period with any new client where we get used to their lifestyle and preferences while they get used to our presence. Some clients don't want to ever see us or interact with us. Some want built-in best friends. But most clients land somewhere in between. At the beginning, Angela seems unnerved by our presence.
From our background check, we determined she'd been truthful when she said she hadn't dated anyone in a while, so we chalked it up to being surrounded by strange men. Especially considering we are fairly certain her stalker is a man.
Over the past few weeks, though, she's fallen in with our little unit seamlessly. Even with our opposite shifts, we always had breakfast and dinner together, all four of us, and the conversation flowed easily. Sweet Angela always pulls Brick into the conversations and has learned to sass back at Alex's sarcasm, which elicits chuckles out of both Brick and myself.
Over these weeks she's come to life - she's more relaxed, happier, more playful, and I love to think we had something to do with that.
Sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and with the engine's purr loud enough no one else could hear us, it feels intimate, secluded, precious.
The plane surges forward and instinctually Angela reaches out and grabs my hand. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she squeezes my hand with a death grip. Ah, nervous flier. I hold her hand in both of mine and squeeze back.
"Did I ever tell you the story about how Alex had to explain to our CO why he was wearing only a crop top?" I lean over and whisper to Angela, trying to distract her from the rumbling take off.
"What?!" she gasps, her eyes shooting open to look at me. Her father had been an officer in the Navy, so she knew how much trouble Alex would have gotten into for not maintaining uniform regs.
I chuckle at the memory. "I don't remember what he had done, but he pissed off half of the squadron, so at night we snuck in and swapped out his Marine Corps issued undershirt with one from one of the female marines." I chuckle again, enjoying the mortified look Angela gives me. "He'd slept late and threw it on in a hurry before running out of the tent. Only to run smack into our CO."
Her eyes go wide. "Noooo" she whispers. The engines roar as the plane climbs higher into the sky, and I can see Angela's grip on my hand easing up slightly as she becomes more engrossed in the story. "What did your CO do??"
"Well," I continue, "the CO just stared at Alex for a moment, trying to process what he was seeing. Alex, completely unaware of the clothing switch, saluted and reported for duty. The CO couldn't contain his laughter, and the whole squadron burst into fits of giggles."
Angela's eyes twinkle with amusement. "That's incredible! What did Alex do when he found out?"
"He was furious at first, of course," I say, grinning. "But eventually, even he had to admit it was a pretty good prank. From that day on, he became the 'Crop Top Captain' in the squadron, and the nickname stuck."
As the plane levels off, I glance out of the window, taking in the vast expanse of clouds below. Angela's nervousness seems to be replaced by a genuine interest in my story. Our faces are merelyinches apart now, and she stares into my eyes. "But don't you dare tell him I told you that. He'd kill me." I say with a laugh.
She smiles and nods conspiratorially. After a moment of thought, she leans further towards me and whispers. "What's his deal, anyway? Like, I get that he doesn't like me. Not everyone has to like me. But I haven't exactly given him a reason to hate me either."