The airport was louder than Jess expected.

Not just noise—layers of it. Rolling suitcases rattling over uneven tile. Announcements cutting in and out over the intercom. People talking too fast, too loudly. Elevator dings and escalator hums.

Jess stood just inside the terminal entrance, gripping the handle of her suitcase, and took a breath. Then another.

She reached into her bag, pulled out her binder, and flipped it open to the first tab.

Departure: Newark → Geneva

Arrive 2 hours early ✔Group check-inSecurityGate B23Boarding: 9:40 PM

Everything was on track. Right down to her mother honking the horn as she pulled away from the curb. Everything was fine.

"Jess!"

She looked up as Ana Lucia hurried toward her, dragging a suitcase that looked like it weighed more than she did.

"Oh my god, my mom almost made me bring, like, three extra sweaters," Ana Lucia said breathlessly. "Apparently Europe is 'colder in a different way.' What does that even mean?"

Jess smiled automatically. "It means you'll be warm. Thanks to mom."

"Warm? I'd rather be cute."

Jess closed her binder. "You can be both."

Ana Lucia grinned. "See, that's why you're in charge."

Jess didn't correct her.

Check-in took longer than it was supposed to.

Someone's (Libby's) passport was in the wrong bag, and someone else (Chip) had packed something they weren't allowed to bring. One of the chaperones (Mrs. Hargrove, homeroom) kept counting and recounting students like they might disappear mid-line if she stopped.

Jess stayed near the front, answering all the questions before they were fully asked.

"Yes, we're all together."

"No, that bag needs to be checked."

"Yes, the gate is B23."

"There's a Dunkin. I looked it up."

It felt good—useful. Like she was holding everything together.

"Hey, Bennett."

She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Shawn stood a few feet behind her, one hand hooked around the strap of his duffel bag (he was most definitely too cool to carry a rolling suitcase), the other holding his passport loosely like it wasn't the one thing standing between him and not getting on the plane.

"What?" She said.

He tilted his head toward the check-in counter. "You think they'll notice if I just... don't check anything and walk straight onto the plane?"

"Yes," she said immediately.

"Even if I look confident?"

"Especially then."

A corner of his mouth lifted.

"Good to know."

Jess turned back to the counter. Conversation over. At least, it should have been. But she could feel it—his presence, just behind her. Not close enough to be invasive. Just close enough to be... there.

She shifted her weight slightly, focusing on the line moving forward.

"Next," the gate agent called.

Jess stepped up, sliding her passport across with practiced ease.

"Group booking," she said. "We're with the school."

The agent nodded, typing quickly.

Behind her, she heard Shawn say something under his breath. It was too quiet to make out but followed by a soft laugh from someone else.

Jess stared straight ahead.

Focus. A long, interruption-free flight was just moments away. She'd get a chocolate milk, maybe a snack from the convenience kiosk, and then settle in with her favorite sweatshirt and new Norah Jones CD.

Security was worse. Shoes off. Bags open. Lines splitting and merging with no clear logic or direction.

Jess moved through it efficiently—passport out, liquids separated, and jacket folded just right.

"Of course you got through first," Ana Lucia said, appearing beside her, still wrestling with her bag. "Do you, like, practice this type of stuff?"

Jess zipped her suitcase. "It's not complicated."

"Speak for yourself."

A commotion near the scanners made them both glance up.

Shawn. Of course.

He stood there as a TSA agent held up something from his bag—small, rectangular, like a shiny piece of robot chocolate.

"Is this yours?" The agent asked.

Shawn squinted. "Oh—yeah."

"You can't bring this through," the woman said.

"What is it?" Someone nearby asked.

"Why not?" Shawn took it back, turning it over. "It's like a portable CD player but no discs."

Jess blinked, bemused. Listening to Shawn explain an iPod to the TSA agent was free entertainment.

The agent shook their head. "You'll need to put it in your checked bag."

"I don't have a checked bag."

"Then you can't bring it."

There was a pause.

Shawn exhaled through his nose, not quite annoyed, not quite amused.

"Alright, it's alright." A second TSA agent was waving it through. "Those are permitted."

"Good to go." The woman handed it back to Shawn.

Jess watched the whole exchange, something faintly unsettled flickering in her chest.

Not because of the iPod, which was super expensive and edgy and of course Shawn would have one, but because he didn't seem to care. Not really.

Not about the inconvenience. Not about the rules. Not about anything that would have stressed her out for the next hour.

He just... adjusted.

Moved on.

Jess turned away before he could catch her looking.

By the time they reached the gate, the Ridgemont Prep students had spread out across rows of rigid chairs, bags and jackets draped everywhere.

Jess checked the time.

9:04 PM.

On schedule.

She sat down, pulling out her binder again—not because she needed it, but because it gave her something solid to hold.

"Do you ever stop?" a voice said.

She looked up.

Shawn had taken the seat across from her, stretching his legs out like he had all the space in the world.

"Stop what?"

He nodded toward the binder. "Planning."

Jess closed it, slower this time. "Do you ever start?"

He considered that. "Not really," he said.

"Sounds risky."

"Sounds less exhausting."

Their eyes met. There it was again—that strange, balanced tension. Not quite an argument. Not quite a joke.

Something in between.

Jess looked away first.

"They're boarding in 20 minutes," she said.

"Good thing you told me," Shawn replied. "I was planning to just wander onto a different plane and see what happens."

"That's not how it works."

"Yeah," he said. "I'm starting to notice a pattern."

Jess almost smiled. Almost.

The seating assignments were, predictably, a mess.

"Okay, everyone listen up," Mrs. Hargrove called near the gate. "We need to stick to the seating chart as much as possible—"

No one listened. All around her, people were calling out their seat numbers and treading with people so they could sit nearer to someone else. Jess heard bartering at one point. It was all very stock-market coded.

Jess checked her ticket.

Seat 18A. Window.

Good.

She moved down the aisle of the plane, counting rows carefully, ignoring the overhead chaos of people stuffing bags wherever they fit.

Row 18.

She slid into her seat, placing her bag neatly under the seatback in front of her. She dropped her purse on the middle seat just for a moment.

"Move your bag."

Jess froze.

She snapped her head right.

Shawn stood in the aisle, gesturing toward the seat beside her.

"18B." He read from the ticket clutched in his hand, his voice quite satisfied.

"No," she said before she could stop herself.

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"You can sit somewhere else."

"Apparently not," he said, holding up his ticket. "This is me."

Jess looked at it.

18B.

Of course.

Of course it was. And he hadn't even switched with someone else. It was his name printed in black and white.

"You can switch with someone," she said.

"Why would I do that?"

Jess opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn't exactly say: because this is going to be unbearable.

Shawn waited, but when she didn't answer, he shrugged and slid into the seat beside her anyway.

Close enough that she could feel the shift of air around her, could smell whatever was on Shawn's skin. Close enough that everything suddenly felt smaller.

"Don't worry," he said, settling back. "I'll try not to disrupt your flight."

Jess stared straight ahead, trying to avoid his noticing how large his legs were compared to her tiny twigs.

Outside the window, the runway lights blurred in the distance. Inside, the plane filled with voices, movement, anticipation.

Everything was about to begin.

It was not lost on Jess that the very first thing she hadn't planned had gone wrong.

And that was sitting right next to him.

The plane leveled out eventually.

The initial rush of takeoff faded into something quieter—steady engine noise, dimmed lights, the soft shuffle of people settling in for the eight-hour flight.

Jess adjusted the small overhead vent, angling it precisely.

Then adjusted it again.

"Do you always do that?" Shawn asked, not opening his eyes.

"Do what?"

"Fix things that aren't broken."

"It's too warm. I'm hot."

"It's a plane," he said. "You'll be cold soon enough."

Jess frowned slightly. "How do you know?"

"Because," Shawn sounded amused. "I know how cold it is on the other side of that window."

A flight attendant passed by, offering drinks and small bags of snacks.

Jess took water and Shawn a cola.

"Two?" the attendant asked, smiling at Shawn.

"Yeah, sure," he said, smiling. "Just in case."

Jess glanced at him, rolling her eyes. Maybe it was the cabin lighting, or his impressively imposing size, but Shawn could easily have been mid-20s. Little did the flight attendant know she was flirting with a cute 18 year-old.

"You need two bags of M&M's?"

"I don't need them," he said. "I'm preparing."

"For what?"

"For the flight being long."

She shook her head slightly.

He tore one open immediately.

A second later he held it out toward her.

Jess hesitated.

"You don't have to," he said. "I'm not forcing you into poor snack decisions."

"They're not poor decisions," she said automatically.

"Then take some."

Jess glanced at the bag and then resigned herself to holding out a hand.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. You eat them by color, don't you?" Shawn said.

Jess blinked. "What?"

"You look like you'd sort them."

"I do not sort them." Jess almost laughed as she said it.

"Liar."

"I don't."

He raised an eyebrow.

Jess looked down at her hand ...she had already separated two blue ones from the rest without even realizing.

She quickly mixed them back in.

"I'm not sorting them," she said.

"I used to think the blue ones tasted different," he said.

Jess frowned. "They don't."

"I know that now."

"Then why would you think that?"

"I was, like, eight."

Jess considered that. "...Okay, that's fair."

Shawn leaned his head back against the seat, turning slightly toward her.

"What weird thing did you believe when you were eight?" he asked.

Jess hesitated.

"I didn't believe weird things."

"Everyone believed weird things."

"I didn't."

"Jessica."

She sighed. "Fine. When I was in third grade," she said, "I thought if I didn't finish my homework before dinner, something bad would happen."

Shawn opened one eye.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Just—something."

"That's... concerning. Like, how bad?" Shawn was grinning wide now.

"Bad bad. Catastrophic bad."

Shawn laughed, his eyes creasing. Jess had caught a whiff of his same smell, and she suddenly felt way too warm again.

"I was eight, remember?"

"Still concerning."

Jess rolled her eyes.

"I grew out of it."

"Did you?"

She paused. "Yeah. Mostly."

Shawn laughed quietly. "In second grade, I told my entire class my uncle worked for the government."

Jess glanced at him.

"Did he?"

"No."

"What did he do?"

"Sold used cars."

Jess blinked.

"Why would you say that?"

"I thought it sounded cooler."

"It does not."

"It did at the time."

Jess smiled. She didn't even try to stop it.

"What happened?" she asked.

"My teacher asked what he did for the government," Shawn said.

"And?"

"And I panicked and said 'spy.'"

Jess let out a short laugh.

"You did not."

"I did."

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing," he said. "Everyone believed me for, like, a week."

Jess shook her head.

"That's ridiculous."

"It worked."

"For a week."

"Still counts."

The plane hummed steadily around them, and the lights dimmed further. People quieted and they did their best to stifle their laughter. Jess leaned her head back against the seat. For the first time since boarding, she didn't feel tense.

She didn't feel like she had to be anything.

Jess reached into the M&M bag again, without asking, and Shawn smiled.

"Hey," Shawn said.

"Yeah?"

"You can have the rest if you want."

Jess glanced at the bag. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I got two, remember? One was for you."

Jess took it. "You're not as bad as I thought you were, Park."

Shawn turned his head slightly. "Wow."

"What?"

"You thought I was bad?"

"No," Jess said it too quickly.

"High praise."

Jess smiled faintly. "Don't get used to it."

Jess watched the window like a moving picture frame, until it became nothing but a motionless black. Somewhere between the takeoff and the landing, something shifted.

Not dramatically. Not all at once.

But enough to matter later.