Best Friends Don't Kiss(55)

A text message pops up from Theo, and a trill of nerves runs down my spine. The last time I saw him, I kind of went behind Ava’s back about her paintings. I glance over at her to make sure she’s occupied before opening the message.

Chomping on gum and staring out the window, she seems at least temporarily calmed and distracted by the disgusting alcohol, so I take my chances that she’ll stay that way and open the message.



Theo: They loved them. Hell, I loved them.



Yes. I have the urge to fist-pump the fucking air. I don’t do it, obviously, but man, I want to. Instead, I glance over at Ava—who is still occupied with looking out the window and watching carts of luggage being wheeled to our plane—and type out a quick response.



Me: I knew they would.



Theo: My assistant will email you all of the information.



This confirmation right here was the last thing I needed to ensure that my Christmas present plans were complete. The other gift I arranged will be delivered to the Lucies’ house in two days.

And Ava calls me the grinch? Ha. I might as well be Santa Claus right now.



Me: Thanks, Theo. I really appreciate this.



Theo: It was a true pleasure. I can’t wait to see more.



“Who are you texting?” Ava asks suddenly.

Shit.

I lock the screen of my phone as casually as I can manage and flip the phone over on my thigh.

“No one.”

Her eyes scrutinize my face. “What are you up to?”

“If you must know, it’s related to a Christmas present.”

Those eyes transition from interrogation mode straight into excitement. “For me?”

“Why on earth would I get you a Christmas gift?” I ask and don’t dare to hide the teasing tone of my voice.

Ava fakes a pout. “Obviously, because I’m your favorite person on the planet.”

My favorite person on the planet. She isn’t wrong. Frustrating, thickheaded, messy-as-hell—Ava is a lot of things, not all of them good. But nobody is all good, no matter how much they claim to be, and at the end of the day, I’d rather be around Ava when she’s a mess than be around anyone else who has it all together.

“So…?” she questions, nudging my shoulder. “Are you going to tell me about my Christmas gift, or do I need to guess?”

“Neither,” I respond, delighted to have managed a secret from her for this long. “You’re just going to have to wait until it’s actually Christmas like all the other little boys and girls.”

Another fake pout. “Boo. You’re no fun.”

I grin, slide my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, and get lost scrolling through the in-flight entertainment screen secured to the back of the seat in front of mine. Movies, television, games, music, it has all the goods. “You want to watch a movie together?”

Her face twists adorably. “The flight isn’t that long.”

“Then do you want to freak out the other passengers and try out the in-flight messaging app?” I whisper. She scrunches up her nose in confusion.

“The what?”

“This,” I say, voice still quiet, and tap the screen again with my index finger. Instantly, a chat box appears. I enter my name as Pilot, and Ava looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Just trust me. I promise this will not disappoint.”

Another tap to the screen and a keyboard appears, and I quickly type out a message.



Pilot (2B): Hell yeah! You guys ready for this flight? I’m super pumped!



“Luke!” Ava whisper-yells and nudges me with her elbow. “People are going to think you’re actually the pilot.”

I flash a devilish smirk her way. “I know.”

Truthfully, I’m not the creator of this prank, but it is something Trevor and I used to crack up over when we flew commercial. The things that would be said in those in-flight messaging apps were too good to ignore. We had a pact with the flight attendants to take screenshots of anything weird, hilarious, or downright insane.



Frank (14C): Hey hey, Pilot! Get us there safely, yeah? Also, if you can let the flight attendants know the man in 14C needs a beer, it would be much appreciated.



Karen (15A): Why is the Pilot messaging us from 2B? Shouldn’t he be in the cockpit?



Rich (25D): It’s called friendly customer service, Karen.



Ava snorts and covers her mouth with her hand as she watches me type out another message and hit send.



Pilot (2B): You mind if I play a little AC/DC during the flight?



Frank (14C): You’ve. Been. Thunderstruck! Let’s gooooooo!



Karen (15C): This seems very unprofessional.



Rich (25D): Karen, this is the pilot being friendly. It’s called customer service.



That message gets Ava good. Her giggles become too much for her to bear, and without constraint, she bursts into laughter. Loud, contagious giggles echoing from our row. Damn, I sure do love making her laugh.

And the fact that I get to spend the next two weeks doing just that? Best trip ever.





Ava



One ninety-minute flight and a two-hour drive later, and we have officially arrived in Lakewood. Home sweet home.