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I don’t know whether to be self-conscious or grateful for his concern.
    “You’re doing just fine,” he says to encourage me.
    The plane climbs higher with all sorts of bumps, grinds, and noises going on.  Kyle explains each one, letting me know we’re okay and this is all normal.  “When they announce that you can use your electronics, you’ll know it was a good takeoff and we’re set to relax.”
    The words jar me momentarily.  Then before I know it, we level out, the seatbelt light is extinguished, and the flight attendants are taking drink orders.
    I glance down and see my hand still pretzeled with his.  Reluctantly, I let go, unable to meet his gaze that I feel on my skin.
    “See,” Kyle says softly and very close to me.  “You did it.”
    I breathe for what feels like the first time since I sat in my seat.  “Thanks.  So far, so good.”
    “Can I get you something?  Some water?” he asks.  “A barf bag?”
    I laugh and loosen my death grip on the armrest to push my hair out of my face.  “I need more wine.”
    “Definitely.”
    He signals the flight attendant to bring me a Chardonnay.
    “Make it two,” I say.
    Kyle scoffs, ever the businessman.  “Oh, I don’t want one.”
    “No, they’re both for me.”
    He laughs and hands over his credit card to the flight attendant in exchange for the small bottles.  He opens one and pours it into the plastic airline cup for me.  “A little medication for you.”
    “Thanks, you’re really nice, Kyle.”  What a relief to have a thoughtful person with me as I defy death in this flying cylinder that continues to bounce along in the choppy air pockets.
    Kyle runs his hands through his hair.  “I used to have a little fear of flying when I first started traveling for work.”
    And he even admits it...cool.  “What did you do to combat it?”
    He laughs.  “I kept getting on airplanes.  Sooner or later, you get used to being up here.”
    “I’ll try to remember that.”  I drink the cold wine down in nearly one gulp.  I can see Kyle watching and I hope he won’t report me to Jiles.  “Oh that Vanessa, what a lush.”
    “So, let me distract you.  We can talk about the customer service plan,” Kyle says, trying to avert my bout of panic.  The wine tingles inside me and I think I’ll be all right.  Maybe even a little buzzed.
    I smooth my hands down the sides of my pants, quelling the tension that’s built up from balling my fists.  Work.  I’ll focus on work and not think about how high up I am in the air.
    As Kyle flips through the pages of his iPad, flicking his finger against the screen, I admire his finely designed body, from firm arms—apparent because of the fitted blue shirt—and broad shoulders that taper to his waist and a nice butt.  Okay, so I looked at his gorgeous ass earlier when he stashed his bag in the overhead bin.
    His legs look solid, like tree trunks encased in denim.  He must work out religiously to have such a sculpted body.  I stare at the top of his head as he talks about a ten-city client tour.  I need to stop lusting after him.  This is not a good thing.  It won’t get me anywhere.  We’re co-workers.  There are rules.  Besides, guys like Kyle have tall, skinny blondes waiting somewhere for them with lips pursed for kissing and bodies tight for all-night sex.  And here I sit downing Chardonnay like a bar fly.
    Besides, although he’s been my Dr. Freud so far, helping me combat my phobia, he’s still corporate through and through.  He reeks of his newfound position.  While I appreciate a hard worker and trying to succeed, I much prefer someone who bucks the system and doesn’t merely follow the leader.  Especially when that leader is Little Baby Jesus and his brigade of Willies.  I don’t have the guts to break the rules—not yet anyhow.
    So, I sigh wistfully, tune out the corporate prattling, and open up my second Chardonnay, hoping this flight ends soon.

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