"Damn, I thought I would have the row to myself."

Even looking at him through my smudged glasses lens, I knew he was gorgeous. His shiny, dark hair hit just shy of his shoulders, and curved around his sculpted cheekbones. His almond-shaped eyes were dark and deep, and his lashes so long that they seemed fake.

"Sorry, I like running late to flights," I said. "It's kind of a rush. And more importantly, it freaks the hell out of my mom."

He flashed the quickest of smiles at me, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of his perfectly aligned teeth. And his lips! They were... inviting, with a perfect Cupid's bow.

"Here, let me get that for you," he said, pointing towards my suitcase. And then he stood up. Oh my god, he stood up! Of course the body that held it all up was lean, tight, and clad in black. As he lifted my bag into the overhead compartment, I marveled at his perfect form.

The flight attendants began their rehearsed safety presentation, and I couldn't help but scoff. I turned to him and whispered "You know, I've seen this thousands of times but if this plane really went down, I wouldn't know what the fuck to do."

"So you travel a lot, then?" he replied.

We talked for hours, and I found myself wishing that the 12 hour flight was just a few hours longer. He was a senior flying to London to tour Oxford University, and I was a sophomore whose parents were just cool enough to allow their daughter to fly halfway across the world alone.

Splitting a pair of headphones, we listened to classic blues rock. And country pop, which I tried my hardest to enjoy.

And then Ed Sheeran's "Perfect" came on — my favorite song. I smiled and sang along, forgetting all my efforts to appear cool and seductive. Our eyes locked, and moments later our lips locked too.

He kissed me. In the dimly lit airplane cabin, with both of our torsos strapped into the stiff seats, he kissed me. Somewhere above the Atlantic, with the occasional child's scream to set the mood, he kissed me.

"Wow," was all I could muster. I looked down at his sleek, black boots next to my bright blue flip-flops.

"Wow indeed," he said, bringing my face to look at his again.

The lights came back on, and the breakfast cart appeared. Reality set in, as I sipped orange juice from my styrofoam cup. In a few hours we'd be back on our separate paths.

With a final jarring thump, the flight was over.

"I guess it's true, what they say," he said.

"What?" I asked, the word slipping out of my mouth as clumsily as I had unbuckled my seatbelt. It felt like my brain was moving twice as fast as my lips; there were so many things I wanted to say.

"Love is in the air."