Chapter Text
“Good evening folks! Welcome to California. Local time is 9:30 pm. The captain has asked that we prepare for our descent into Los Angeles. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them properly until we have arrived at the gate. Be certain that your seat belt is fastened and your seat back is straight up. We will be making our way through the aisle to check and collect any trash. Once again we appreciate choosing us and thank you for flying Delta.” The flight attendant's voice booms through the airplane cabin.
Cinching your already fastened seat belt a little tighter, you focus your attention out the tiny window as the other passengers mosey about preparing for a hopefully somewhat smooth landing. Last minute trips to the bathroom, stowing bags and jackets back into the overhead compartments, shutting down electronic devices.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
Well, most were shutting down electronic devices. The incessant clicking of keyboard keys from your seatmate continued even after the announcement.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
You were able to drown out the grating sound most of the flight while getting lost in your current book and the onboard entertainment. It had been a while since you actually sat and gave your full attention to a movie. Being stuck in a plane for nearly 6 hours with only so many options to pass the time, you committed to watching My Best Friend's Wedding for the first time in years— a nostalgic trip down memory lane, equally as distracting as entertaining.
Further up the aisle you can hear the attendants asking for any loose trash to be thrown away. You glance down at the almost empty plastic cup of wine you’ve been white knuckling in your lap for the last hour. The liquid barely splashes about with every pocket of air that vibrates your seat. You down the remaining contents in one last gulp, grateful it somewhat did its job, helping to take the edge off your fear of flying.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
The fucking typing. You hold your snide comment. Knowing it would have been something that would have surely made a scene if uttered towards the man who can’t seem to adhere to the basic rules of flying. You roll your eyes instead and bite your tongue. Leaving it up to the approaching attendant to unleash their power and control over the man next to you.
“Trash?” The sweet young man asks, holding open the plastic bag. Collecting wrappers, cups, and any other items that would be in need of disposal. You hold up your cup and a wad of napkins, passing it over the open laptop and the hands still busily moving over the keyboard.
“Excuse me sir? I’m going to have to ask you to please stow your laptop away until we’ve reached the ground.”
Joshua, the sweet young flight attendant, whom you had befriended in the galley somewhere over Texas while stretching your legs and in search of something to drink, using his authoritative tone to get the man’s attention.
You and Joshua had spent close to an hour exchanging life stories over several small cups of black coffee. Divulging his exuberant journey to becoming a flight attendant and his love for flying all over, all the while inadvertently easing your anxieties in the process.
He pulled up his instagram after refilling your cup, showing off pictures from his most recent trip with his very cute boyfriend to Las Vegas. Blurred neon backdrops, dressed to the nines selfies and public affection at what you assume are all the hottest spots on the strip. All captured in perfect little aesthetic squares that he shares with his rather large following.
His boyfriend, Edward, is picking him up from the airport this evening. A whole trip planned up the California coast. Joshua isn’t putting all his eggs in one basket, but he’s sure there’s a proposal in the works. His nails are perfectly polished and ready for when he says ‘yes’.
There’s a pang of jealousy that briefly surges through you, a reminder of how lackluster and lonely your life has felt the last few years leading up to now, 33,000 feet heading in the direction of a vacation you’re dreading and looking forward to— what a juxtaposition.
Over drinks one evening a couple months ago while sharing how your marriage was in a stagnant rut, your close friend Jacey, suggested a vacation alone with your husband might be a great way to reconnect with. Rekindle that spark that once was a raging inferno at one point. No work, no plans, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. A week of reconnecting over good food, lounging by the pool and sex. Lots and lots of sex.
After she left, you put the thought into motion. Booking a week stay at a fun modern hotel in a city you and your husband had talked about visiting in the past.
You’re not sure what prompts spilling your heart out to Joshua in the back of the airplane. Maybe because in the short time you’ve known him he feels like a long time friend, someone you feel like you can trust with your deepest secrets. You tell him how you’re spending a week in Santa Monica to essentially see if your marriage was forever doomed to be an endless cycle of lonesome nights crying into cartons of salted caramel ice cream.
Last night, instead of excitement and anticipation for the trip, your husband and you spent the evening arguing while packing a week's worth of clothes. His job and nearly nonexistent presence at home was usually the cause for most arguments. A vacation meant for the two of you had turned into a vacation for you, your husband and the work that he refuses to leave behind for 7 days.
You don’t realize you're crying until Joshua is handing you a handful of tissues. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s surprising your tear ducts haven’t rusted shut yet. An awkward laugh crackles through your throat. You must look so ridiculous to this stranger turned mid-air therapist. A complete blubbering mess to anyone else. You pat away the wetness. Joshua is nothing but understanding as he listens to you, offering his best “you’ll get through this” and “just tell him how you’ve been feeling”. Both do little to ease your mind, but you thank him as he wraps you in a hug.
Your husband ignores Joshua’s rather polite request. Something you're all too familiar with. Always “just one sec, I’m almost done” as he continues his work.
“The captain has asked all passengers to stow electronics—“ He’s cut off by your husband holding a finger up to him, the silent “just one sec”, another classic. “Unless that finger is going to be powering down your laptop, I’m going to kindly ask that you remove it away from my face. Sir, if you can’t cooperate, I’ll have to confiscate the device and you can pick it up when you deboard the plane.”
The loss of his life line seems to do the trick. The laptop is shut off immediately and stowed under the seat in front of him. And you don’t miss the wink that Joshua sends you as he moves past your row.
The tension from last night still strung rather tight.
Your husband doesn’t say a word. Settling back into his chair once he’s fastened his seat belt across his lap, watching the flight tracker on the small screen secured in the seat in front of him.
Your attention is drawn back to the tiny window. Tufts of white clouds pass over the plane's wing as the aircraft moves through the night sky, Los Angeles becoming more visible with the approach to the runway. The ground below resembles an intricate circuit board of lights. Clusters of tiny homes and buildings, all mapped out in a way that makes sense for a bustling city.
The plane jolts and rattles as the wheels touch down the ground. Instinctively your hand reaches for your husband, fingers digging into the meat of his thigh. Your eyes squeeze shut as the body of the plane sways and the brakes begin to slow the plane’s speed. Taking off and landing your least favorite parts about flying.
“You did really well this time. I’m proud of you.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss your temple, you can hear the genuineness in his voice. It’s the most he’s said to you this entire flight. Taking your hand in his, fingers intertwined, his other hand resting over them, while the other passengers erupt in applause as the plane begins to taxi towards the gate.
“Thanks. All that pep talk you gave me really helped my nerves.” Tightening your grip on his hand, because you are grateful for his praise. His demanding job, the one he brought with him, takes him all over the country at a moment's notice— sometimes further when needed. Flying is a normal thing for him, so who better than him to help you through it.
You hug Joshua at the front of the plane where he’s sending everyone well wishes as they leave. Waving your crossed fingers up to him that there’s a ring in his future. In return he hopes things go smoothly the rest of your vacation.
The silence continues to hang between you like an extra carry-on bag you didn’t intend on bringing. But you keep in close proximity to each other navigating through hoards of people milling around the terminal on the long trek to baggage claim.
Your husband's phone was instantly inundated with missed texts and voicemails the second it was turned on, his focus now on replying to messages and filtering through which calls needed to be returned immediately. Leaving you to make sure there is a car waiting once you step out of the airport.
“This is Dave York. I’m returning your missed call. I have those files on hand and can discuss the matter at your earliest convenience.”
You’re sure the Uber driver doesn’t miss the heavy sigh you release from the backseat. It’s a 30 minute drive to the hotel. Which meant 30 more minutes of listening to Dave’s monotonous responses to unanswered calls, disregarding the fact that it’s well past midnight back home.
“Excuse me, can you turn up the volume on the radio? I love this song.” You ask the quiet driver. You’ve never heard the song. It’s catchy though. And holds way more interest than anything else happening in the car.
“Babe, no! I’m trying to make some important calls. Volume down— please!” Dave snaps— literally and figuratively. His fingers moving rapidly and sharply against each other, directed at the driver as he looks at you with bewilderment.
The driver watches silently from the rear view mirror, flitting between the road ahead and the tension building in the back seat. The volume lowered to a ‘suitable for Dave’ level. Your annoyance with your husband raising a few notches as a result.
“I’m so sorry, my husband seemed to have forgotten his manners at home.” Apologizing to the innocent driver on your husband’s behalf. “Jesus Christ, Dave. Don’t be fucking rude!” Scowling at your husband from across the way. You watch as his expression morphs from annoyance to embarrassment at his reaction.
“No, it’s fine— I’m being a dick. I promised not to work, I’m sorry. I can finish the rest tomorrow morning.” Without hesitation he slips his phone into his bag. You’re not even upset about the mention of finishing work tomorrow. “Can you turn the volume back up please, my wife really likes this song.”
The song filling the car once again produces a smile on Dave’s face. The air starts to feel a little lighter. The fog slowly lifts and the glimmer of hope you anticipated for this week feels more promising in this moment.
“You’ve never heard this song before, have you?” He leans in, close enough to keep the question for your ears only.
“Never in my life!” A wild sound escapes from your lips. Falling somewhere between the fine line of laughing and snorting. It fills the back of the car. Dave falling into a fit of laughter himself at your omission.
“God, I love it when you laugh like that. It’s my favorite thing about you. I don’t tell you that enough.” His words hit you like a love drunk punch. Intoxicating as they hit your veins, all sweet and addicting.
Laying your head on his shoulder, you hum in agreement. You’ve missed this side of Dave. It’s a side of him you’ve rarely seen lately. He feels like a robot most nights when he does make it home at a decent hour. How was your day? - How was work? - What’s your plans for the weekend? A programmed response of repetitive nodding from across the table as you unload about your busy day, stress from your overbearing boss and your plans to work on something around the house. Most nights you don’t feel like he’s heard a single word you’ve spoken.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Your phone lights up in your lap with a text bubble from Jacey.
- Are you alive?!?!
- I’m pleased to inform you that our plane didn't crash like I thought it would. We’re in the Uber on our way to the hotel.
- It’s almost like I told you it wouldn’t. I’m glad you made it safe. How are things?
- Well, he hasn’t stopped working... So, things are swell! (I hope you can sense the sarcasm from here)
- I’m sorry. You know, there’s one thing that can turn this around for you!
- What? And please don’t say what I think you’re going to say…
- You need to get laid!
- Ugh
- How long has it been, anyways?
- Too long. But not for a lack of trying. Dave’s been stressed with work the last few months. So we just really haven’t.
- Please tell me it hasn’t been months since you’ve had an orgasm!?
- Hell no! I do well on my own when needed.
- Thank god for vibrators! Well, you’re on vacation. Which means a week of eating, sleeping and fucking. Lots and lots of fucking.
-I’ll keep that in mind. We’re just getting to the hotel.
- Call me if you need anything! Love you!
- Okay. Love you Jace!
Setting your phone to ‘do not disturb’, following your own example of being present and hoping there’s no need for a phone-a-friend lifeline on this trip, tucking it away in your purse, for the time being. You relax back into the heated leather seat, listening to Dave and the driver discuss the ins and outs of living in Los Angeles the remainder of the ride.
You fall in love with the hotel the minute you step inside, the images online hardly doing it justice. Organic shapes and textures fill every corner of the luxurious hotel. A hint of the ocean breeze blends with herbaceous musk that permeates the lobby as you check in at the front desk.
The room is inviting and comfortable, with a sleek modern flare. A geometric curved line of the padded headboard frames the king size bed. An overabundance of plush pillows and soft linens look so inviting. Your body craves to crawl under the warmth of the sheets— desperately wanting sleep.
The bathroom is spacious with clean lines and warm tones from the tiles lining the walls and the generous walk-in shower. The free standing soaking tub looks like it would fit you both nicely one of these evenings.
Dave and you set out to unpack your clothes before settling in for the night. He takes the wardrobe. Hanging his button down shirts and slacks on the wooden hangers. You leave him a single drawer for his other clothes, knowing he will need it before he’s even asked.
Several new pieces of lingerie fill one side of a drawer. Black and neutral colored barely there bras and panties, all made to leave little to the imagination. This time away with Dave felt like a good excuse to splurge, plus a nice upgrade from your well worn ones at home. All in the name of wanting to feel sexy and enticing.
There’s a part of you that wonders if the lack of intimacy between you and Dave was due to how stale things were in the bedroom. Dave’s stress with work and his late nights being key factors in not feeling like you were able to connect with him on a consistent intimate level.
Bathing suits and your everyday undergarments fill the rest of the drawer space. Even with being mindful of not bringing your entire closet with you, your clothes manage to fill up the other available drawers. Dresses hung alongside Dave’s clothing and shoes tucked away on a shelf below.
You feel a warm presence behind you while standing at the dresser, busy working diligently to untangle the mess of metals that usually resemble your favorite necklaces.
“I’m sorry. For bringing work when I said I wouldn’t. And for snapping at you— and the driver. You didn’t deserve that.” Dave’s voice is low as he apologizes to you again. A sad puppy begging for forgiveness. His forehead rests on the back of your head, hands cradling your shoulders, thumbs working out the stiffness from the long plane ride.
“Thank you.” You tell him. Setting the necklaces down on the dresser top, looking up at the reflection of you both in the mirror. “We really need this trip. Things have been off between us lately— some days it feels like we’re strangers. I want to feel like I’m important to you again.”
“You’re so important to me, baby. And you’re right, things have been tense at work and I haven’t been as present as I should be.” Dave takes the jewelry from your stilled fingers, spinning you around to face him. His thumb catches the single tear sliding down the slope of your cheek. “I mean it— I’m so fucking sorry. Aside from those phone calls, no more work. Just you and me..”
The kiss is long overdue. His lips move gently over yours, slowly easing into a familiar rhythm. Allowing you to be the one in control. His moan is a treasured melody that makes you feel alive, the husked tone vibrating over your lips when you deepen the kiss. His hips pin you tightly against the dresser, your hands clutching Dave’s shirt in your grip, losing yourselves in the moment. The tension gradually bleeds away bit by bit.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower. We can order dinner when I get out. Watch that movie you’ve been wanting to see.” Breathless as he rests his forehead on yours. “Put one of those lace pieces on too, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Okay— yeah.”
“I love you so much.” He kisses you again, his lips lingering a little longer before pulling away.
“I love you, too.” The pads of your fingers brush over your swollen lips. Tingling and dry, a sensation worth yearning for.
Dave heads in the direction of the shower. His shirt already removed and tossed away before he entered the bathroom. The door closed behind him. The sound of the shower echoing through the hotel room.
You’re not sure how it got to this point. Months of waiting and hoping things would magically mend. Dave is your anchor when you need him most. Lately you’ve felt untethered and lost, fighting against the current in search of safety. You’re hopeful now, you have to be, wiping the new tears flowing down your face.
This vacation is exactly what you both need. 7 days is enough— right?