Jax (Titan #9)(32)

Their group was called, and en masse, they boarded. When Seven arrived at her seat, Johnny glared back. Lucky me.

"Are you always so happy?" She put her backpack in the bin overhead then took a seat. "Or is it just me?"

Johnny shifted toward the man next to him, who was already half asleep against the window. "I'm happy."

"You're five kinds of grump-a-saraus."

"Don't talk to me like I'm Nolan."

She rolled her eyes as she buckled in. "I won't. He's three, and light years ahead of you in maturity."

"That's mature."

So what if it wasn't? "Get some coffee, and whatever ails you will leave you."

"Wish it were that easy," Johnny grumbled, glancing over her shoulder. Then he reached for a magazine and aimlessly flipped through it.

Seven eased back and casually looked around. Ah, Johnny was having a hard time with Hawke. She could've guessed that. Tension between them had been thick since before they'd boarded to come down to Colombia. After everything she had heard went down at the restaurant, it was no wonder.

"Why are you sunshine and smiles when you look like shit?" Johnny asked.

She twisted in her seat belt. "Like shit, huh? Thanks, asswipe."

"Call it like I see it."

"I don't look like sh—"

"You do." Johnny flipped the pages of his magazine, still not reading.

"Yet another reason I'm glad I didn't stay married to you. Such a sweetheart."

"You stayed for the honesty. Tell me you didn't." He chuckled. "And my c—"

"Don't even." Seven groaned. But Johnny was half-right. She appreciated the truth, but nothing else that he might've almost mentioned. "Either way, sometimes you're supposed to lie. Or not bring it up."

"What'd you get into last night?" He closed the magazine and slipped it into the holder on the chair in front of them. "Look at you. Bags under your eyes. You were asleep on your feet earlier."

"Nice of you to notice."

"I keep a note of what's going on."

"I bet," she mumbled. He was right, and she had every intention of going to sleep like the guy against the window as soon as they took off.

"But," Johnny said and left her hanging until she couldn't help but ask.

"But what?"

"Still fucking glowing." He tilted his head. "Haven't seen that look on you in a long time."

Nope. No way was Johnny going to call her out for a post-orgasm glow in the middle of Mayhem while they were stuck on a plane. "You're out of your mind."

"If I didn't know any better…" He leaned close, studying her, and Seven's nerves got the best of her.

She wanted to inch back but didn't want to show her hand. "Back off, buckaroo."

"I'd think you were thrilled we're leaving here with the deal intact."

Seven recoiled, laughing. "Wrong. You do know me, and wanting the coke business is impossible. I'd never want that in a million years."

"What problems are you causing now?" Hawke snapped at Johnny from across the aisle.

Instinctively, she wanted to keep the men apart, and her hands went up, but the airplane was taxiing down the runway already.

"Talking to Seven," Johnny said past her. "Not you."

"You two need to chill." She pointed fingers at both. Not many old ladies could get away with that, though she didn't belong to either of them. Then she gave Hawke a long look and turned to Johnny. "Save your drama for when we touch down. I'm going to sleep."

"It's not drama. It was a decision." He grabbed the magazine and flipped pages furiously.

She was going to get no sleep if he was over there on a manic paper-cut endeavor. The flight attendant was two rows ahead of them, pushing a cart. It didn't look like food. Maybe she had more magazines for the international flight. Either way, she was gorgeous and a great distraction that made Johnny and Hawke behave.

As the woman approached, her presence worked like a charm as Seven settled back into her semi-uncomfortable chair. Then listening to Johnny flirt with the woman drove her nuts.

"Ma'am?"

Seven opened her eyes, questioning if she was the ma'am. "Yeah?"

"Would you like a blanket or pillow to sleep with?"

Damn it. The last thing she wanted was a stupid blanket that she couldn't stop fussing with.

"She's fine," Johnny said for her, thankfully.

There had been too much craziness in the last two days, and sometimes the folding couldn't be helped. It was a control thing, and nothing had been controllable lately. Seven clung to the armrests. "What he said," she mumbled.

"Are you sure?" The flight attendant pulled out a plastic-wrapped blanket, misreading the dynamic between her and Johnny, her misery, and why she held on to her seat. "If you want it, it's not a problem."

The blanket, folded unevenly and sadly sitting in its plastic wrap of doom, was thrust into her face, and she couldn't look away, couldn't believe how fast she had to take it. Embarrassed by the lack of control, she knew hot tears would fall but still didn't stop. "Thanks."