As I laid in bed on the morning of my flight, I came to the sudden realization that this vacation might be the perfect time to tell Dylan how I feel. There was no plan set in stone. But if the mood and the moment felt right, then perhaps I'd do it. Or perhaps I would continue to wait it out and hope the feelings faded off again. Somehow, that seemed less than likely.

Whenever he calls, my stomach turns over on itself. Whenever I hear his voice, I see a future. I've never seen a future with someone before. Ever. I've done so much dating. So much searching for someone that I could actually mesh with. Mold to well enough to go somewhere further than dinner dates and movies and mediocre sex.

I've never felt it though. That spark. That draw to another human being who can be an extension of who I am. Someone who I can share all of me with. All of the hardships. The tears over a father who looks at me as though I'm a stranger. The tears over a mother who actually does see me as a stranger. The struggle of having no career drive. The anxious meltdowns and panic attacks. The over eating. The sleepless nights and the imperfection. Because I need someone who's there for all of that and not just the good parts.

The only person who I've ever had, that's been close enough to see those parts, is Dylan. And he's sharing himself with Charlie. The most pretensions, sour bitch on the face of the earth. The text message that she sent me when Dylan told her that he was coming with me to New Year's Eve was hideous. Perhaps the worst message that she's sent me to date.

I didn't tell Dyl about it though. I'd won. He was coming with me and that was what mattered. I'd store that text for another day when I needed him and she was pulling weight. That might sound petty. But Charlie didn't like to fight fair and that just meant that I needed to keep up.

Rolling out of bed, I slid into my slippers, stretched and looked out of my window at the clouds hovering low. Low enough that the tops of buildings were disappearing. It had snowed over night. I could see white powder on the window sills across the street. My window seat looked spectacular this morning. Cushions, blankets and a half read magazine that I could get through if I went and got a coffee. Ugh. It was so tempting. But I had a flight to prepare for and unfortunately, sleep took precedence over packing last night.

Still, I would need a coffee before I could even think about being alert enough to pack what I needed. So I wandered out of my bedroom and was hit with the smell of citrus scented antibacterial cleaning wipes. It was coming from the bathroom across the hall. I hadn't seen Lucinda since I'd sent her home on Christmas morning but she must have been in and out. She was too committed to her work not to come in and do even the basics.

The sound that had me dragging my feet down the hall with hesitance, was the tap, tap, tap of a pen on the granite counter top. Dad's signature sound when he was mulling over a document or a file that had him in a particularly worked up mood. How nice for the file. All it had to deal with was a pen tap. If I put him in a bad mood, it was a full scale screaming match.

Of course, there he was, in a sharp charcoal suit and tie. I wasn't even sure when he'd come back from the Maldives. But it wouldn't have surprised me if it had been days ago and he'd been preoccupied with work ever since.

Maybe I should warn his girlfriend not to get too attached. She'd never be able to compete with his job. Not to mention, if she ever becomes an inconvenience of any sort, out she goes. Banishment. Dad prefers to stash his problems out of sight so that he can pretend that they don't exist.

I slump right over to the coffee machine, switch it on and head to the fridge.

"Good morning. It is seven oh three A M. It is negative three degrees outside. What will you be having for breakfast this morning?"

I glared at the inanimate object which was showing more interest in me than my biolgical human father who was standing a few feet from me. I pulled the fridge open and replied in a sing song voice. "I'd like to rail some MDMA, SF. That's Smart Fridge, by the way. I'd also like a crepe. Fuck all of those in here."

I slam the fridge shut and wince at how unhinged I sound. I put it down to exhaustion, excitement and rebellion.

Dad didn't acknowledge my rambling or even my presence as I floated around the kitchen, made a coffee and had some toast. It was like we were existing in two different realities. We were both here, but in different times and if this were a movie, we wouldn't be able to see each other. I sort of wanted to ask how his vacation was. Would he go back? Was the Maldives gorgeous? Did he smile at all? Did he get some good photos? Would he show them to me?

But I don't. There would be no point because he would ignore me.

I'm sitting at the breakfast bar, a hot coffee filled with chocolate and sugar in front of me when dad's flavor of the month slips out of his bedroom in nothing but his button up shirt and a pair of lace underwear that her ass is eating. There's no point pretending that she isn't gorgeous. She is. And it isn't her fault that dad is an asshole. So while I feel irrational frustration towards her, I don't show it when she blushes, smiled and gives me a small wave.

"Kev," she whispers to my dad and he immediately gives her his full attention. "Did you do something with my clothes last night?"

"Lucinda probably collected up to put them in the wash," he kisses her nose and I can feel the depth of my frown reaching new lows. "I'll ask her to have them done as soon as possible."

"I have that interview in an hour," she sounded panicked.

Against my better judgement, I spoke up. "You can borrow something of mine," I offer. We were of similar build although she was a bit taller than me. "I have some decent pieces in my closet. Some with the tags still on. Have at it."

"Really?" She glances between dad and I. I wonder what he's told her about me.

"Yep. My bedroom is down the hall. Second door on the left."

She scurried off after an abundance of high pitch thank yous and I was proud of myself for not being a total bitch and laughing over the fact that she had no pants to wear. No one could leave anything on the floor in this house. Lucinda would find it. She'd wash it and you would have to wait one whole business day before you saw those items of clothing again. I mean, you could ask her to snap snap and have it washed and dried faster than usual but that felt rude. She had a routine. I left her to it.

Dad said nothing. He turned back to his file.

"You're welcome," I mumbled and slurped extra loud on my coffee.

"When are you going back to college, Bethany?"

"I'll look into it when I get back from New Zealand."

He nodded. He didn't flinch or look at me or show any sort of interest over the fact that I was travelling half way across the world. He just nodded. "Good. See that you do."

I sighed and stood up, rinsing my cup before I started towards my bedroom. Megan or whatever her name was hadn't emerged so I knocked first and waited until I heard her letting me know that I was okay to go in. Honestly, what sort of warped version of reality was I living in where I was knocking on my own bedroom door because my dad's mistress was using my clothes? A mess.

She was standing in front of the closet mirror in a pair of white jeans that I'd bought a couple of months ago. I'd never grown courage to wear them. White made me nervous. She'd paired it with a turtle neck sweater and a leather jacket.

"I hope this is okay?" She threw her perfectly blown out waves over her shoulder and looked between the mirror and me with her lip between her teeth. "I'll bring it straight back after the interview."

"No stress," I sat in my window seat and gave her a small smile. "That looks great on you actually. You can keep the jeans. I'll never wear them."

"Seriously?" She stared at me as if I'd grown two heads. I noticed that she had freckles dotting her cheeks and bridging across her nose. I always wanted freckles. I nodded, letting her know that the jeans were hers to keep. "Thank you, Bethany."

I might have considered telling her that she could call me Bea. But I wasn't quite there. Perhaps if she stuck around longer than two months.

"What's your interview for?"

"A job. A position as head of department in Chemical engineering. There's a research team being put together and we'll have a lot of bases to cover but a big part of what's being done is computer based simulations to work out the safest and most cost effective designs to turn raw materials into food. I mean, like I said, there'll be a lot more to it. But that's going to be our main focus. I really want to head this research team. I have so many ideas."

I immediately felt horrible for assuming that she was a ladder climbing mid twenty something that was attempting to boost her career by climbing my father.

After I felt horrible, I felt impressed. She was intelligent and clearly passionate about the environment. I desperately wanted to know what she was doing with my dad. She was young, gorgeous, smart. He was old, angry and. . . well, smart. Couldn't deny that. Still. I did not see the attraction.

"Well," I stood up. "I hope it goes well."

"Thanks, Bethany," she smiled and for a cruel unintentional second, I hoped that she met someone at this new job. Someone that was better for her than my father. She clearly deserved that much.

JFK was a shit show. I clearly wasn't the only person travelling right before New Years. There were people crammed into corners. Search dogs moving through luggage at pace. Middle aged woman screaming at the staff because they couldn't change their tickets or they had missed their flight. Who knows. What I did know, was that I couldn't wait to be on the plane and in the air with Dylan. Four days to ourselves. Again, regardless of how I felt, this was going to be so much fun. It felt like forever that I'd had him all to myself.

I sat on my carry on bag, pulled my cellphone out of my coat pocket and dialed the center. I chewed on my nails, not even realizing that I was doing it until someone answered the phone and I had to spit my thumb out. I wiped it on my jeans and pinched it between my fist.

"Uh, hello," I said. "Can I talk to Katie? Is she around?"

"One moment please," the receptionist switched to hold and I listened to the elevator music blaring too loud in my ear.

"Hello, Katie speaking."

"Katie," I smiled at the sound of her friendly voice. "Hey. How's she doing?"

"Oh hello sweetheart," she sang in her southern twang. "She's doing just fine. She's been drawing this morning. A beautiful picture of a parrot. It's gorgeous. I put it away safely so that you can look at it next time you come in."

"Mellow Puff," I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Her parrot when she was a child was called Mellow Puff."

"Aww. That's gorgeous."

"I thought it'd be worth mentioning that I'm going to New Zealand for a couple of days today. Just under a week. I'll be back on Friday. But if you need anything while I'm gone, my number will still be active. I just won't be close."

"We have Kevin's information too, honey. Don't stress about a thing. Just go and enjoy a break. It's summer over there, isn't it?"

"Kevin's a useless fuck," I grumbled and rubbed my face, breathing to calm down. "Yeah, it's summer in New Zealand. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Good. Don't stress about a thing. Just go and have a good time. I'll call if it's absolutely urgent. Okay?"

"Thanks, Katie."

We hung up and I felt better than I did a moment ago. I knew that mom would be fine. But I also didn't dismiss the possibility that it would be just my luck that something terrible would happen during the four days that I wasn't close.

I tried to follow Katie's advice and not stress over it. I mean, I didn't stress over it in most circumstances. But now it was causing a knot in my stomach and I had to assume that was because I was going so far from home. For the first time in a long time.

"Boarding call for flight J679902 to Auckland, New Zealand. This is a boarding call for flight J679902 to Auckland, New Zealand."

Through the masses of people, I searched for Dylan who promised me that he would be here on time. Which shouldn't have been a problem for him. He never fails to be somewhere on time. Me on the other hand, it wouldn't be unusual for me to be late. But here I am, in the middle of the airport, bag beneath my bum while I wait for him and hold my phone tight, resisting the urge to call him.

He said that he would be here and I needed to trust that. I needed to trust that Charlie hadn't got her claws into him and convinced him to stay. But Dylan would never leave me without an explanation. Even if Charlie had told him that he can't come, he'd call me. And then it occurred to me that something awful could have happened. Like a car accident or maybe he dropped a knife on his foot at work.

With my phone beside my ear, I chewed on my thumb nail again. My leg bounced. My throat felt tight. I was going to end up in New Zealand alone. He wasn't going to show. I'd been stupid to think that Charlie would actually allow it in the first place. She probably did something hideous like threaten to leave him if he came with me.

As soon as the call went to voicemail, I hung up, dropped my head into my hands and felt the beginnings of a panic attack. Which was the last thing that I needed to have happen in the middle of the airport. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

I needed to maintain some control over this before it became out of hand and I humiliated myself in front of thousands of people. But of course, the prospect of humiliating myself made it all that much worse and I stared at the carpeted floor beneath me and began counting the specks of fabric. One, two, three, four, five, six, sev—"

"Bea?"

My head shot up and there he was in front of me, concerned but beautiful. His hair damp at the tips like he'd not long ago showered.

"Sorry I'm late. My phone died and the traffic was a nightmare. I went straight to check in and dropped my luggage off so tha—"

He was cut off when I bounced up and wrapped around him. Of course he didn't hesitate to hold tight. Just as he always had. His hugs were addictive because he didn't leave an inch of space. He knew just where to put his arms to create maximum comfort.

"I thought you weren't going to come," I murmured against his chest and subtly inhaled his fragrance.

"What? I wouldn't miss this. And if I did then I would call. Sheesh. Who do you take me for?"

He was teasing but I still felt stupid. So I let him go and stepped back, giving him his space again. He peered behind me and pointed at the floor.

"Is that your carry on?"

I nodded and he slipped past me to pick it up. Dylan had a lean build but strong muscle. He liked to exercise in his apartment complex and that might have been the one thing that I refused to do with him. My exercise came in the form of walking all over Manhattan. I'd developed a decent set of calf muscles after doing it for so long.

So we boarded our flight and immediately started discussing what we'd watch and how we'd schedule our naps. Neither of us were sold on sleeping at the same time. Not that we believed something sinister would happen to us on the plane. It was just an extra precaution.

So we agreed on the movies we both wanted to watch and then Dylan chose his movie that I had no interest in, a horror, and I would sleep during that one and then I chose a movie that Dylan had no interest in which sounded like a super cheesy teen romance and he would sleep during that. The movies that we both wanted to watch were The Winter Soldier. We'd had an abundance of Marvel marathons over our time as friends and it never got old.

The flight was long but bearable beside Dylan. We shared a head set and snacks. We held hands and we used each other as a pillow. None of that was unusual for us. But I had to resist leaning in and kissing him over and over again. It felt like such a natural impulse. As if resisting it was the strangest thing that I could do. Whenever there was something on the little screen that made us laugh and we'd look at each other, amused and chuckling, my entire body ached to close the distance and I could have sworn that he might have kissed me back.

But I didn't do it. Because we hadn't even stepped off the plane yet and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our vacation before it began.

When we arrived in New Zealand, the first thing that I noticed as we stepped off the plane, onto the tarmac, was the hot summer sun. I instantly felt over dressed but I was thrilled to know that we'd be getting a short break from the snow back at home. We followed the long corridors, we went through all of the security and legal procedures and finally, when we were collecting our bags from the belt, we shared a broad smile and I felt a surge of electricity move between us.

Not just through me. But the space between our bodies. How that was possible, I wasn't sure.

It was short lived however. Because when we turned around, there stood Charlie. A beautiful sundress on, a sick smile and an enormous suitcase. Her wave was full of sarcasm and I had to bite back tears.

"Hello," she smiled, innocent. "I thought I would surprise you both. I'm so excited."