The airport was one of the best places to people watch.

There were families with cranky kids and moody teenagers, overexcited travelers, anxious flyers trying to calm their nerves before boarding, and those who were clearly hungover as they sat hunched over in sweats while nursing both a coffee and water.

Then there were people like me who were traveling alone and simply going through the motions.

Having flown out to San Francisco to be with my family for the holidays—which had been exactly the break I needed after not being back on the west coast for almost two years—I'd arrived at the airport a few hours before my flight home to give myself time to get through security, grab some food, and relax at my gate. Something I was now regretting, as my flight back to Boston had been delayed. It was going on the fifth hour I'd been sitting in an uncomfortable chair and I'd already run through the episodes I'd downloaded of Netflix's latest hit.

Hence the people watching.

With my headphones in—void of any music in an attempt to salvage what was left of my phone battery—and a lukewarm coffee in my hands, I let my attention wander.

I could hear the man who sat behind me having much too loud of a conversation on the phone, with someone I assumed to be a colleague, about his newest business venture. Words like investment, capital, and shareholders had me tuning out while also making me proud on some level this stranger was working so hard to get an idea off the ground.

Then there was the woman sitting beside me who, despite having to be at least double my age, didn't try to hide the fact that she was sexting someone named Jimmy. Something I wish I'd never had to see as I quickly averted my gaze from the extra large font on her screen.

Except doing so had me momentarily eyeing a couple at the end of the aisle, likely a few years younger than me, who were sharing a seat and making out like they were in the privacy of a bedroom and not surrounded by strangers.

But, I mean, if that made the time pass faster, all the power to them.

Feeling the awkwardness of watching another couple get it on wash over me, coupled on top of the slight prick of envy in my chest, I turned my head and tuned in to the conversation between the parents two rows ahead of me and their young children.

"But why do we have to wait so long?" the older of the two kids asked, looking to be around eight years old as he sat on the carpeted floor.

"Yeah, it's sunny outside. Why are they saying there's a storm?" the younger one pressed.

Which, to be fair, were valid questions for kids their age. Before either of their parents could answer, however, a voice crackled on the overhead speaker.

"Attention passengers aboard Flight 534 to Boston." A hush settled over the waiting area as everyone listened to the announcement, hoping we were finally able to board. "The flight's departure time has been pushed back to 7:00pm. Boarding will take place thirty minutes before, so please have your ticket ready at that time. Thank you."

A collective groan filled the area. This was the third delay announcement in two hours, all because of a freak snowstorm sweeping over the middle of the country. And while I understood the safety precautions the airline had to take, I almost wished they'd just cancel the flight and put me, as well as everyone else, out of our misery.

Trying to look on the bright side though, the extra delay gave me the push I needed to abandon my seat and track down some semblance of a dinner, knowing I wouldn't be eating on the flight any time soon. My stomach grumbled for what felt like the hundredth time as I stood, grabbed my carry-on, and subtly nodded to a woman who had been leaning against the wall for the last hour that she could take my seat before heading towards the dining hall.

Thirty minutes later, after I'd demolished a cheeseburger and fries, I had my gaze locked on my phone as I swiveled around on the bar stool to hop down, only to stumble into another person who'd been walking past.

A person who was clearly male and definitely in shape if the strong chest muscles beneath my palms were anything to go by.

"Shit, sorry. My bad," I said, righting myself as the stranger's hands fell from around my waist.

Looking up at him with a red hue of embarrassment coating my cheeks, I immediately noticed the way his lips twisted upward and laughter filled his dark brown eyes. "Don't worry about it," he replied.

Knowing there was nothing else for me to say without rambling and making a complete fool of myself, I stayed silent and dropped my gaze, not at all surprised when he sidestepped me and blended into the throngs of people making their way toward the gates.

I shook my head, muttering a few choice words under my breath as I started back that way as well, realizing I had to come to terms with the fact today was simply not my day.

***

"Welcome passengers on Flight 534, we apologize for the delays today, but the cabin crew has just informed me that we look to be ready to start boarding." Finally. The voice of the employee at our gate coming onto the overhead speakers promptly perked everyone in the immediate area up. "We'll start off with anyone boarding in Zone 1, as well as those who require extra assistance or families with young children. Once again, that's only passengers in Zone 1, those who require extra assistance, and families traveling with young children. We'll call the rest of you up shortly, so please sit tight and await further instructions."

But given that nearly everyone was past the point of being fed up, all simply ready to board and get in the air, nobody listened. I, however, stayed where I was—sitting atop my suitcase while leaning against the wall across from the gate. Watching as people began to crowd the check-in desk—pushing and shoving—creating complete and utter madness for the employees attempting to keep things as orderly as possible.

Eventually, when the final boarding call was made and only a few people were left mulling around the check-in desk, I got up and joined the short line. Passport and ticket ready, I handed them off to be scanned before making my way down the rickety bridge leading to the plane.

It was a smaller plane, with only two seats on either side of the aisle, and as I passed all those already seated, I couldn't help but notice half of them anxiously wiggling around in their seats, impatient and waiting for the doors to close. When I reached the middle of the plane, I glanced down at my ticket, double checking my seat number.

27D.

When I spotted the number twenty-seven underneath a half-full overhead compartment, I rolled my luggage to stop, drawing the attention of the man sitting in the aisle seat.

A man that tugged on some thread of familiarity in my mind despite hiding his face underneath a Boston Knights ball cap as he held his phone to his ear.

"Yeah, mom, we're finally boarded and hopefully about to take off, so I've got to hang up." He paused. "I love you, too. I'll call you when we land if it's not too late."

The voice, the build—I couldn't believe my luck could be that bad as to have my seatmate for the flight home be the guy I'd stumbled into hours before—but when he hung up the call and lifted his gaze, I knew it was him.

My teeth found my bottom lip as recognition flared in his eyes. A half smile kicked up on one side of his face as he stood, slipping his phone into the pocket of his trackpants. "I'm guessing you've got the window?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. I nodded. "You need help with that?" he continued, pointing down to my suitcase when I neglected to give a verbal response.

"No." I cleared my throat, feeling a blush coat my cheeks as I nodded. "I've got it, thanks though."

"No problem."

Taking a step back as I lifted the suitcase into the overhead compartment, he waited until I jammed my bag inside before motioning a bit overdramatically towards the seats.

"After you."

Offering him a small smile, I sidestepped in and took my seat, trying to ignore the way our shoulders and thighs brushed as we dealt with our individual seatbelts and got settled. Or the way a warmth seemed to radiate off him despite the chilled air that circled the cabin. Instead, I attached my gaze to the window, scanning the lights of the tarmac, now much more visible given that the sky had darkened considerably since arriving earlier this afternoon. In the distance, I could see the runway as another plane geared up for takeoff, and felt marginally better knowing the metal tube we were currently inhabiting would be following momentarily.

"So, are you leaving or heading home?"

My eyes flitted towards my seatmate, wondering who he was talking to, only to widen when I realized his head was turned towards me. "Oh," I started, not at all accustomed to starting up conversations with strangers while traveling alone, "I'm, uh, headed home. I just flew out to visit my parents for the holidays." When he nodded in response, leaving me an avenue to bring the conversation to a halt if I wanted, I followed up. "And I'm guessing you're the same? You know, because of the phone call with your mom."

"Yeah," he replied, a lick of amusement at the fact I'd listened in on his conversation. "A short trip, but worth it to see her and the rest of my family." He quirked a brow. "What about you? Ready to get out of California?"

"You mean if we ever actually get in the air?" I mused, all too aware they had yet to shut the door of the plane despite every seat being occupied. "But yeah, is it lame that I'm missing Boston?" I asked. "Like, I miss the daily spectacle of going into work and hanging out with my friends, though I've got to admit, I don't miss the weather."

A deep chuckle escaped his lips. "Not lame, because I feel the same. You get used to going about your day-to-day life, and then when you take a break from routine, no matter how short, everything suddenly feels off balance."

"Exactly."

As I met his understanding eyes, there was a familiarity in his features that I couldn't quite place. And it wasn't just from the moment in the airport, it was something more. Like I'd met him or had seen his face somewhere before. He seemed to be around my age, likely a few years older, but with a quick rake through my mind, I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Though I've got to say," he carried on, "I'd rather the Boston weather right now. Since moving to the north east, celebrating the holidays when the temperature is above freezing and there's no snow on the ground just seems wrong."

"Well then, we can just agree to disagree on that front."

"Fair enough," he said, relaxing back into his seat. "So, why the desire to fly out on New Year's Eve of all days?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy who's also flying home on New Year's Eve."

"In my defense, I booked this flight because it was meant to land in Boston early enough so I could attend a friend's party, though it looks like that won't be happening." He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "Plus, I'm meant to be working tomorrow."

"On a stat?"

"Not everyone's lucky enough to work a job that gives you holidays off." He shrugged. "It was hard enough to scrape together the last three days in a row, and that was only because I had business out here anyways."

I was about to ask what it was he did when something clicked into place for me. Where I recognized my seat mate from. I'd seen him countless times over the past three years, skating on television whenever I tuned into a Boston Knights game. Which meant the hat he was wearing wasn't just a piece of memorabilia he was wearing as a fan. No. He was showing off the pride he had for the team he played for.

I was sitting next to Derrick Wellsley, a winger for Boston's professional hockey team. I was keeping up a conversation with Derrick Wellsley. I was flirting with Derrick Wellsley.

What a wild turn of events.

Schooling my emotions, I hoped the way the dots connected in my mind didn't show outwardly, though before I could verbalize anything, I was cut off by a voice echoing throughout the cabin.

"Attention passengers on board Flight 534—" I perked up slightly, peering over the seat in front of me to see the flight attendant at the front of the plane hold the intercom to her lips as she spoke. "—I want to formally apologize to all of you. The pilots have just received word that the all clear to fly they were previously given has been rescinded. This flight has officially been canceled."

I saw the flight attendant visibly wince as nearly every passenger on the plane burst out in a fury of anger—swearing up, right, and center—wondering why the hell we'd boarded in the first place. Which, truthfully, I couldn't help but think as well.

Around me, children cried, parents protested, and the rest of the flight attendants tried to present a united front as they gave instructions for deplaning, but I barely heard a word.

Nothing except from the man who sat beside me.

"Well... it looks like we'll be spending another night on the west coast."

a/n: welcome to another sports romance by yours truly! I'm so excited to share this story and I'm already in love with the two main characters. How do you feel about Lia and Derrick so far? (And yes, this is the same Wellsley from Shot on Goal... the book I had previously up on my profile in 2018-2019 - which could possibly make a comeback in the coming months with the edited version I have offline.)

The Boston Knights are going to be with me for a while (I've got at least two more stand-alone books planned in the series), but for now, I hope you enjoy updates for Fate of Collision, which will be every Friday!