By the time Finnick decided to fly to Q City, Fabian and I were already in the air.
I sat stiffly in the business-class seat beside Fabian, every muscle in my body tense. The cabin lights were soft, the air scented faintly with coffee and perfume. Outside the window, the clouds stretched endlessly, white and distant.
The flight attendant placed a tray in front of me.
Paella.
Seafood.
The smell hit me immediately. My stomach turned. I stared at the shrimp and mussels like they were a personal insult.
"Still don't fancy seafood?" Fabian asked casually, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
I didn't look at him. "I see the Chief Editor's memory is still working fine."
He chuckled under his breath and took a slow sip of coffee. "Of course. I remember everything about my first love."
My jaw tightened.
I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly. I could feel my pulse in my ears, steady but sharp. I didn't want a scene on the plane. Not in front of strangers.
