Same Flight
1250 Words
By the time I arrived at John F. Kennedy International Airport the next morning, I had already finished two coffees and convinced myself Rachel’s cryptic text had been nothing more than her terrible sense of humor.
Don’t panic when you see the room assignments tomorrow.
Knowing Rachel, she probably meant the hotel had bad Wi-Fi.
Or tiny beds.
Or questionable room service.
Nothing I couldn’t handle.
The private terminal reserved for the Frosthawks buzzed with activity.
Players rolled expensive suitcases across the polished floor while staff members checked equipment cases and travel documents.
I adjusted the strap of my laptop bag and headed toward the media coordinator’s table.
“Morning, Ava.”
“Morning.”
The coordinator, Melissa, handed me a thick folder.
“Here’s your credential, flight itinerary, hotel information, and media schedule.”
I flipped through it.
Boston.
Three nights.
Practice.
Media day.
Game One.
Post-game interviews.
Everything looked normal.
Until the last page.
My footsteps slowed.
Hotel Assignments.
Room 1812.
I frowned.
There had to be a mistake.
I looked again.
Room 1812.
Occupants:
Liam Hayes.
Ava Bennett.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Surely my sleep-deprived brain was malfunctioning.
I walked straight back to Melissa.
“This is wrong.”
She took the paper.
“Oh.”
She sighed.
“I was wondering when you’d notice.”
“Please tell me this is a joke.”
“I wish it were.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Absolutely not.”
She lowered her voice.
“The hotel accidentally overbooked during playoff week.”
“So book another one.”
“We tried.”
“There are hundreds of hotels in Boston.”
“Not with the security requirements the league needs.”
I stared at her.
“So your solution is…”
She gave me an apologetic smile.
“…to share the captain’s executive suite.”
Excuse me?
“No.”
“The suite has two bedrooms.”
“I don’t care if it has ten.”
“It also has two bathrooms.”
“No.”
“Separate entrances inside the suite.”
“No.”
“Huge living room.”
“I said no.”
Melissa rubbed her forehead.
“I knew this wouldn’t go well.”
“You think?”
Before she could answer, another voice interrupted.
“Problem?”
Every muscle in my body stiffened.
Liam.
Of course.
Melissa looked relieved.
“Perfect timing.”
No.
Not perfect timing.
The exact opposite.
She handed him the itinerary.
His eyes scanned the page.
Then stopped.
His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
For the first time since we’d reunited…
He actually looked surprised.
“So…”
His gaze shifted toward me.
“…we’re roommates.”
“We’re absolutely not.”
Melissa cleared her throat.
“Only for three nights.”
Liam remained annoyingly calm.
“I’ve stayed with worse.”
I glared.
“Glad to know your standards have improved.”
A few nearby players slowed their steps.
Watching.
Listening.
This was exactly how gossip started.
Liam noticed them too.
His expression returned to its usual unreadable mask.
“We’ll make it work.”
“No.”
“You have another solution?”
“I’ll pay for my own hotel.”
Melissa shook her head.
“The league won’t allow independent accommodations during playoff coverage.”
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
Professional.
Professional.
Professional.
Liam broke the silence.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I looked at him.
“The suite has two bedrooms.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you sleep on the couch?”
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
“So you don’t spend three days wondering if I’m about to walk into your room.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
Because…
He wasn’t wrong.
Melissa smiled.
“Great.”
“No.”
She ignored me.
“Problem solved.”
Wonderful.
⸻
Two hours later, we boarded the team charter.
I deliberately chose the first empty seat I could find.
Far away from Liam.
Or so I thought.
“Excuse me.”
I looked up.
A flight attendant smiled politely.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“Captain Hayes specifically requested this seat for one of the coaching staff.”
I frowned.
“Meaning?”
She smiled awkwardly.
“We’ve reassigned you.”
Please…
No.
She pointed farther down the cabin.
Seat 4A.
Beside Liam.
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the universe clearly hated me.
Liam looked up from the tablet resting on his lap as I approached.
Without a word, he stood.
Allowing me access to the window seat.
Still a gentleman.
Unfortunately.
I sat down.
Buckled my seatbelt.
Opened my laptop.
Completely ignored him.
The plane took off.
Twenty minutes passed.
Thirty.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally—
“You still get nervous during takeoff.”
I froze.
“What?”
“You grip the armrest.”
I looked down.
My fingers were wrapped tightly around it.
Damn it.
Five years later…
He still noticed everything.
Slowly, I loosened my grip.
“I forgot.”
“No.”
His voice remained quiet.
“You didn’t.”
I refused to answer.
Instead, I focused on typing notes for my upcoming article.
Click.
Click.
Click.
His eyes drifted toward my screen.
“You still write by outlining first.”
I slammed the laptop shut.
“Are you always this observant?”
“I used to be.”
The words hung between us.
Used to be.
As though there had once been a time when knowing everything about each other had been normal.
The flight attendant arrived with drinks.
“What can I get you?”
“Coffee,” I answered.
“Black.”
She smiled.
“And for you, Captain?”
“The same.”
The attendant nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
I reached into my bag.
A small bottle slipped free, rolling across the floor.
Before I could grab it—
Liam picked it up.
He stared at the label for a moment.
Pain relievers.
He handed it back.
“Migraines?”
“They’re manageable.”
“You used to get them when you were stressed.”
“I still do.”
His jaw tightened.
“How often?”
I blinked.
“That’s none of your business.”
He didn’t argue.
He simply looked out the window.
“I used to know.”
Something inside me cracked.
Not enough to break.
Just enough to hurt.
The flight attendant returned.
As she handed me my coffee, the plane suddenly hit turbulence.
The cup tipped.
Hot coffee splashed across my lap.
“Shit.”
“I’m so sorry!”
The flight attendant grabbed napkins.
Before she could hand them over, Liam had already taken off his suit jacket.
He draped it over my legs without hesitation.
Shielding me from curious eyes as I dabbed at my soaked blouse.
“It’s fine,” I muttered.
“It isn’t.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I know.”
His voice was soft.
“You always do.”
The words weren’t meant to be cruel.
Somehow…
That made them hurt even more.
Because surviving had never been what either of us wanted.
We had wanted forever.
Somewhere between dreams, championship trophies, and endless headlines…
Forever had slipped through our fingers.
Neither of us had figured out how to let go.
Yet.
Or perhaps…
Neither of us ever truly would.
- Writer
