Thanking my loves @songsformonkeys and @heatherbel for the beta and the enthusiasm! <3
She woke to a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she gaped at the stranger in the seat next to her, an inquisitive expression on his handsome face.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he was saying. “Stewardess couldn’t reach. You want something?” He removed his hand from her person, gestured to the trolley where an immaculately dressed attendant waited, trays of snacks in the multi-drawer cart she pushed.
“Oh. Um, thanks,” she told her fellow passenger.
“Blueberry muffin, apple chips, or fresh banana?” the steward asked.
“Chips. Thanks.”
“Anything to drink?”
“Just water, please.”
The stranger requested coffee - black, one sugar, no snack.
The stewardess moved on and Lara noticed the seatbelt light was off. She unstrapped, unplugged her headphones and put her tray table down.
“Thank you for waking me up.”
“No problem.” He had the headset hooked around his neck - a very biteable neck, she noted.
“I’m Lara.”
His gaze flicked to her, and he paused, coffee halfway to his lips. “Francisco.” He took a sip, winced.
She smiled. “Bad?”
“It’s obligatory on aircraft, I think,” he coughed.
They passed the next hour in companionable silence. Eventually the bottle of water hit Lara’s bladder.
“Sorry. I’ve got to get up.”
He nodded, unbothered, stood up to let her out. The top of her head would fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder, Lara noted, and that thought gave her stomach a serious case of butterflies. When she brushed past him, she caught a gasp of his scent - woodsmoke, citrus, clean sweat, coffee.
The bathroom was tiny but clean. Lara looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes could use more sparkle, but her Asia-straight hair was reliably tidy.
Has Francisco noticed?
Her belly tightened and she scoffed at herself.
You can’t just fall in love with every nice-looking man who’s polite to you. She knew her ego was bruised - and that hurt, because she was starting to realise that maybe her heart wasn’t.
She should be more torn up about Drew, but she felt… not a lot.
And that meant - what the heck did she do now?
She flushed, washed her hands, patted her hair for no real reason and returned to her seat. Francisco let her back in, a slight smile ticking up the left side of his mouth. Oh no. That made him hotter.
She did not allow herself to look at his left hand to check for a ring, or a tan line.
She switched on a recently released action flick that required minimal thought. At some point during it she looked around and noticed Francisco had the same thing tuned in on his screen. She glanced over - he slept, his chin resting on his chest. It was kind of endearing.
The trolley came over as the credits rolled on the action film. Lara leaned over and patted Francisco’s thigh to wake him up - it was the easiest part of him within reach.
He jerked away, his hand coming down to clamp over hers, eyes dark and hard as he met her gaze.
She recoiled for a second, scared.
“Shit. Sorry. Sorry,” he murmured, eyes soft now, large in his honey-gold, weathered face. Now he looked so very… tired. “I’m ex-military. Light sleeper. Not used to being touched.” He released her hand as the trolley rolled into view.
Lara recovered. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“I am. Thanks. And sorry - really. I swear I’m not the kind of creep who scares women for fun.”
Their gazes held for a moment.
“I believe you,” Lara said softly.
Dinner was mediocre - options of either a beef stew with bread roll or a vegetable pasta bake. Lara and Francisco both opted for beef with a diet soda on the side.
“So,” Lara said at length. “Military?”
“Pilot.”
“Wow.”
“The flying bit is. The military part, well. It’s a long story.”
I have time, Lara almost said, but she bit the words back. They didn’t know each other, and would likely never see each other again after the plane landed.
The stewardess came to collect the empty meals, and now that she’d eaten, tiredness caught up with Lara. It was full dark outside the window now. She started to close it, hesitated.
“Mind if I shut this?”
“Go ahead.”
She unfurled the blanket from under her seat, checked behind her - an empty seat, perfect - reclined herself, and, eventually, slept.
She didn’t dream this time.
*******
The light woke her, along with the dulcet tones of the airplane pilot over the intercom, and the blinking of the overhead seat belt light. The whirr of the landing gear made her sit up.
“We’re here?”
Francisco looked over at her from where he was packing up his headphones. “We’re here.”
Lara pushed her hair out of her face. Wondered if she’d drooled in her sleep. She busied herself with folding the blanket neatly.
“You got far to go?” Francisco asked. His voice still held that wonderful gravelly rasp that made her stomach flip - in a giddy, teenage kind of way.
“No, I’ve got a pick up.”
“Well, then. You have a safe trip.” His gaze held hers for a long moment, and she saw something pass through his eyes - sadness? Wistfulness? - and then the plane stopped, everyone stood up, and the moment was lost forever.
“You, too.”
She waited for the majority of people to disembark at KL airport before she stood up herself. She’d never liked the rush and press, the squeeze of bodies. Her hand luggage came free from the locker easily and the flight crew thanked her as she exchanged pleasantries with them and disembarked.
Francisco stood about six people ahead of her in line for passport control, head bent a little, curls sticking out of his cap, typing something on his phone. A message to his wife? Girlfriend?
Calm down, Lara reminded herself. But she did relent a little and let herself peek at his ass in those ancient jeans.
Great ass.
Figured.
She watched until he’d cleared passport control. The line of his back was quite something in that button-down; it fit him in all the right places.
And then he walked through the gate and out of her life.
The cheery Mr & Mrs Tuthill sign held by the smiley driver at the arrivals gate didn’t make her feel the sudden sadness she expected - more a sort of resigned numbness.
Had choosing to keep her maiden name of Chen for some stuff been a harbinger of her marriage failing?
No, we had so many good years. Didn’t we?
She just needed to escape her own fucking thoughts. For a while.
Wine, she told herself. Hotel, unpack, wine.
“How was your flight?” the driver asked in impeccable English. He wore a loud, oversized Hawaiian print shirt and an earring that glinted in the airport strip lights.
“Fine, thanks. Quiet.”
“Where is.. Mr Tuthill?”
“He won’t be joining us,” Lara said shortly, trying to keep her tone friendly. “Please call me Lara.”
“I am Ashraff.” He reached for her suitcase and she thanked him as he wheeled it to the waiting estate car.
“How far is the hotel?”
“About one and a half hours, Mrs - Lara,” Ashraff replied as he set her case gently in the trunk. “It is the closest one to the Elephant Sanctuary. Are you planning on a visit?”
“Oh, yes.”
Ashraff went to open the back passenger door, but Lara hesitated.
“Um, do you mind if I sit in the front with you? Kinda lonely in the back.”
“Of course.” If he thought she was weird, he didn’t show it.
“I’ve only been separated from my husband a few days,” she explained, settling in and clicking in her seatbelt.
Ashraff flicked a glance at her as he pulled out of the pickup space. “I’m sorry.”
The car AC kicked in and Lara sighed. The heat was more than she’d expected - she’d become used to London and its usually mild or cold climate.
They drove through the built up area of KL in companionable quiet for twenty minutes or so. Ashraff had the radio on, Taylor Swift playing. It was strangely comforting to hear familiar pop music.
“Have you been to the elephant sanctuary before?”
Lara jerked from her reverie. She’d been staring out the window, looking but not seeing, replaying pivotal moments in her marriage. What she could have done differently. If Ally were here, she’d be disgusted.
“No. My cousin runs it - but we’re not close. I’ve been meaning to come out for years, but…”
“Life got in the way?” Ashraff filled in.
“Yeah.”
And for the rest of the car ride, Lara closed her eyes and lost herself in her own thoughts, wondering what else her life had pushed from the path she could have taken.
She would never regret Drew, because he had given her Ally. But this whole time, had she been loving the wrong man?
And if she wasn’t Drew’s wife anymore, who organised lunches and dinners and client events and who kept the family’s schedule running tight -
Hello! This blog is absolutely wonderful! (as if it needs to be said), and I was wondering if there are any fics out there where Tom and his love interest are dealing with an age gap?
Shades! I’m so glad that you asked. You can type in younger ofc or older ofc into the search box and you’ll find some! All sorted! xoxo
