Mile High: Chapter 6

Evan Zanders is a dick.

But I think I’m starting to figure him out. It’s only taken three short road trips, but here we are.

He’s going to do everything in his power to get under my skin, but as long as I give him shit right back, I think I’ll be okay.

Once the aircraft doors are closed, blocking out the Detroit chill, I do my usual safety demonstration, standing in the exit row. Tonight, like most nights, is a red-eye flight, and the players are too distracted to watch or care about what I’m doing with a faux oxygen mask or seat belt.

All but one.

I’ll give you one guess.

That’s right, Evan Zanders’ hazel eyes burn into me, watching my every move as I do my job, just as they have for weeks now.

As I pack up the little safety demo bag, my favorite part of the flight begins. Only today, it’s not my favorite part, because today, I’m stuck in the exit row as every player stands and begins to undress.

A quick panic races through me as I attempt to find a way to escape, needing to get to the safety of the galley in the back on the plane, but it’s no use. Everywhere I turn, someone is undressing. I’m trapped by the most perfectly formed and almost entirely naked bodies.

And the most notable? The one standing directly in front of me, giving me no room to move?

Evan Zanders.

Zanders overtakes the space in the aisle, next to his seat. I try to turn around and make a dash to the front of the plane, but apparently, the coaching staff is getting out of their suits tonight too. Understandably so, we are flying an overnight flight back to Chicago. But I’m left with no escape plan whatsoever.

My wide and fear-stricken eyes find Indy’s in the front galley, where she was doing the safety demonstration. Instead of a look of sympathy, she shoots me a wink and two thumbs-up before hiding away behind a partition, leaving me to the wolves.

The naked wolves.

Turning back, my eyes immediately lock with Zanders’. How could they not? First of all, they’re gorgeous, all hazelly and shit. Secondly, he’s literally a foot away from me. He could move back if he’d like. He has the space to do it, whereas I don’t. But no. He’s twelve inches away from me as he seductively peels off his tailored suit jacket.

Again, I don’t know if he’s trying to be seductive or if he just naturally looks like he’s about to star in an adult film, but I have a feeling it’s the latter.

“You good, Stevie?” Zanders asks with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Yep,” my voice breaks. I clear my throat. “Yep. Good. Great.”

Turning my head away, I rub my neck as Zanders’ long fingers, decorated with gold rings, take their sweet time unbuttoning his collared shirt.

I can feel his stare on me as I keep my eyes locked on the window exit. Partly to keep my eyes off him and partially to plan out my escape.

The plane isn’t taxiing that fast on the runway yet. I’m sure the road rash I’d endure from the jump out the window onto the asphalt would burn a whole lot less than Zanders’ gaze.

In my peripheral, a body full of flawless brown skin comes into view. And for some damn reason, I can’t help but look.

Zanders’ entire upper half is bare. His shoulders are wide and broad, but his body narrows at the waist. He’s cut like a freaking superhero. Even his muscles have muscles.

I watch as the light catches on the thin gold chain around his neck before my eyes meet his.

He couldn’t be more amused.

“Like what you see?” He smirks.

Yes, he has the audacity to fucking smirk.

“Can I…” My damn voice comes out ten octaves too high. I clear my throat again as Zanders’ chest heaves in a laugh. “Can I get past you? I need to get to the back of the plane.” And away from you before I have a heat stroke from staring at your annoying gorgeous body.

“I’m almost done,” he tells me, not breaking eye contact as he swiftly undoes his belt.

I swallow. Audibly. Like I’ve been without water in the desert for too many days.

Who knew my job would come with a personal striptease?

His long fingers unfasten the zipper of his pants, allowing them to drop and pool at his ankles.

His too-tight black boxer briefs are the first thing I see, right before my wide eyes are drawn to the giant bulge in the front. I’m not kidding. It’s huge. And he’s not even hard. It’s no wonder girls are throwing themselves at him. This thing should have its own area code.

“You enjoying yourself?”

“Hmm?” I mumble, entirely entranced by the literal anaconda in his pants.

“You like what you see, Stevie?”

“Yes,” I state in a daze. “What? No. Absolutely not.” I quickly turn to face the side of the airplane, staring at the emergency exit window, which is looking more and more appealing by the second.

Zanders’ evil laugh echoes through my ears, and I can’t seem to keep my eyes from finding his body once again.

I start at his ankles, noting the black swirling ink that takes up his entire left side. It wraps around his leg, traces his ribs, and covers his arm. The black ink doesn’t contrast too much against his rich skin tone. Instead, it complements it. It looks right on him. I don’t know how else to explain it.

“Want to try that answer again?” Zanders asks, making no real effort to put his sweatpants and T-shirt on. His naked body takes up the entire aisle and his hands rest on the headrests on either side, caging me in. “You like what you see?”

I plaster on my most smug expression, having no plans to inflate this man’s ego more than it already has been. There’s only so much oxygen on an airplane. I don’t want his ego to suffocate the rest of us.

You know, safety and all that shit.

“Ehh,” I say with indifference, crossing my arms over my chest, my stare unyielding as it locks with his.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Zanders slips his white tee on over his head, his observation only breaking with mine for a second when the fabric covers his face. Then he steps into a pair of gray sweatpants as I try my very best to keep my focus away from the snake in his briefs.

And gray sweatpants? Come on, man.

“You got a little…” He wipes the corner of his mouth, trying to tell me I’m drooling from looking at him.

I’m ninety percent sure I’m not, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if I am. However, I refuse to check.

He’s stupid pretty.

His hazel eyes challenge me, holding my attention, daring me to swipe at my lip and check for possible drool.

“I hate you,” I remind him, attempting to hold my ground, which makes him fall forward in arrogant laughter, holding his chest.

When Zanders stands up straight again, I move to slip past him, needing to get out of this fucking aisle, but he stops me by holding on to the seat across the way, his arm blocking me in.

“I’ll take a sparkling water.” His deep rasp sends a shiver up my spine.

Swallowing, I turn my head towards him, playing with fire. His face is only inches from mine, and it’s fine as hell. I can practically feel the warmth of his lips from here. Or maybe that’s the temperature from his burning gaze.

“There’s a cooler in the back for you to get it yourself.” I push his arm out of the way to move past him, maybe a little harder than necessary, but he’s making me flustered, and I don’t like it. I don’t like when my confident mask is taken off.

“Extra lime, Stevie Sweetheart!” he calls out with a satisfied laugh as I roll my eyes.

But I can also feel the blush heating my cheeks.

I got him the damn sparkling water.

I’ve also gotten him a refill, a pillow, and a bag of chips—all of which he could’ve easily grabbed himself. We leave them accessible for a reason.

My only hope is that the flight attendant call light above his head burns out and stops working. With the rate he’s pressing it, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Once again, the blue light shines in the back galley, indicating that a passenger needs our assistance.

An audible grunt leaves my lips. I just made myself a grilled cheese. It’s perfectly melted, and I’m only a few bites in.

Indy laughs. “Looks like your boyfriend needs you again.” She motions towards the exit row, where the light above Zanders’ stupid flawless face is lit up. “I’d go check on what he needs, but we both know he’s going to ask for you once I get there.”

I roll my eyes, stretch my neck, and try to plaster on my best bullshit flight attendant smile as I step out of the galley, but as I do, Tara hurries her way to Zanders, which is fine by me. If someone else wants to take care of the diva himself, I’ll gladly pass on the responsibility.

“Tara’s got it,” I inform Indy as I step back into the galley—our safe haven.

“Twenty bucks she comes back here and tells you that Zanders wants to see you.”

“I don’t make enough money to be throwing it away on losing bets.” This is the third trip of the season, and not a single flight has gone by where he’s spoken to another one of the girls.

Tara clears her throat as she stands in the space between the galley and the aisle. “Evan Zanders needs something from you.”

“Do you know what he wants?” I ask with caution. Regardless of the fact I’m not actually fraternizing with the guy, his obvious task at making my job a living hell this season might be gaining too much attention around Tara, and I need to be careful. Well, Zanders needs to be careful.

“Nope. He said he needs something that only you can get.” Tara’s lips are pressed in a hard line as she turns away, walking back to the front of the airplane where her workstation is.

I can’t quite tell if she’s frustrated that I’m getting attention or if she’s upset it’s not her, which sounds ridiculous as I say it. Anyone who would want the attention Zanders is giving me, making my job way harder than it needs to be, is out of their mind.

“Go take care of your boo,” Indy teases.

“Shut up.”

The entire team is busy scarfing down their dinners as I walk through the aisle, so thankfully, no one is paying attention to me as I make my way to the exit row.

“Need something?” I ask Zanders in my sweetest tone, which isn’t all that sweet. Sweet isn’t really a word I’d use to describe myself.

“I don’t like my dinner.” He looks down at his plate where his perfectly cooked filet mignon remains mostly untouched.

“Okay? Can I get you something else?”

“Can you make me a grilled cheese?”

“Really? You eat that kind of stuff?”

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re watching out for my diet?”

“Actually, no. I don’t really give a shit,” I state with honesty as Maddison almost chokes in startled laughter next to him. “Just curious. But you could’ve asked the other flight attendant to make you one when she came over here, you know.”

He glances towards the front of the airplane, where Tara’s perfectly thin frame is standing, watching us.

“Yeah, but something tells me when it comes to food, I trust your opinion more than hers.”

What the hell does that mean? Is that his way of judging my body? Is that his way of saying he knows I eat that kind of junk on a regular basis and can probably make a good one? I mean, he’s not wrong, but still.

I harshly swallow, suddenly feeling claustrophobic on this airplane. The space is too small. I’m exposed in the exit row for everyone to see. I don’t want anyone to look at me in my embarrassment. My uniform hugs my body, and I feel it digging in at my hips, my chest, and under my arms. Everyone can tell that it doesn’t fit me correctly. I know it. The first thing they see is a body that carries a few more pounds than I’d like it to, and I was an idiot to think maybe these guys wouldn’t judge me for it.

I was wrong, and my mask is completely off at this point. I hate feeling this vulnerable.

“Stevie?” Zanders says with amusement in his voice. “You going to do your job and make me a grilled cheese or what?”

Snapping out of my trance for a moment, I nod my head in silence before taking off towards the galley, needing to hide.

“Stevie?” Zanders questions as I hurry down the aisle, but I don’t turn around.

I make his sandwich, but I don’t bring it out. In fact, I don’t go out into the aisle again until we land in Chicago and everyone else is off the airplane.