A/N: Cammie used to be a spy. Or training to be a spy.
I would like to live a life without a past, present, or future.
"Hello this is your captain speaking, please remain sitting until lift off."
His face was still warm. I rubbed my fingers against his cheekbone.
He was so stiff.
His blood was warm over my hands. He could have a disease. I shouldn't be touching his blood.
Too stiff.
Who was I kidding, he wasn't sick. He didn't have any kind of disease. He was perfectly healthy.
The seats were hard on my back. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to go.
He's eyes were closed. If I pushed his eyes open, what would I see? Would I see green? Or the whites of his eyes? Blank and full or would I see another world different than this one?
My head ached and my eyes burned. I snapped my eyes closed as the plane shot down the runway ready for flight.
He was perfect.
Flying. I was flying. The plane was in the air, flying between cotton ball clouds and blue, blue sky. Air fell back into my lungs. I unclawed my fingers from the seat. Inhale. Exhale.
With his green tinted eyes.
Yet, people lie. The worst lies were to you. Cammie, sweet Cammie, are you really afraid of the plane crashing? Or maybe it's where the plane was taking you?
Shut up. Stupid little voice. Stupid little guilt trick. Stupid little dread. Maybe, not so stupid sadness. Sadness was a part of me since I left the family three years ago. Sadness was me.
Kissable lips.
Inhale. Exhale. Stop thinking.
Just stop.
He's breathing. Just barely, just barely breathing.
Look out the window, Cammie, it's so pretty out. We were among the clouds just like what you wanted to be among when you were little. Look at you. So different from last time. A good different. It was killing you, Cammie. The life they wanted you to have. Look at the boy next to you . . . boy next to me . . .
You could say he was handsome. But, he wasn't. Beauty too beautiful to describe.
My finger ran over his closed eye lids. The lashes long. Lashes girls wished for. And cheekbones sculpted by Van Gogh.
His eyes . . . like a green in peacock's feathers that seemed to suddenly become that stormy gray of lighting storm clouds. Then back, it became green again. Such delicate cheekbones. Shaped from an angel it seemed. Pink, pink lips. Almost feminine. Lashed so long I had to refrain from asking if they ever touched his cheekbones when he blinked. Even the arch of his neck was elegant . . .
"You know it's not polite to stare. Especially if you have been doing it for 30 minutes." The handsome man whispered to me. Breaking me out of thoughts.
"I was going to a funeral," I spoke.
I paused and closed my eyes. I felt the weight of the blood leaking over my hand.
His blood.
The black dress fit awkwardly on my figure. It was sunny and hot. My hair stuck to the back of my neck. I knew I should've put my hair up.
Rose pink petals were climbing up my face. I pinched myself as a warning to never let that happen again. Ever again. But, he was still looking at me. He couldn't have made a snide comment and gone back to his reading. No, he decided he wanted an answer. Or a stupid response. Which he got.
"You have a piece of thread on your shoulder", I said lamely. I picked up a pretend piece of thread from his shoulder and flicked it on the floor.
"Now you're littering." He said in a slightly mocking tone.
I opened my mouth for a response but found I did not have one.
He slid me a crooked smile and went back to reading his book. Dealings End by Edmund Connor.
"Don't make me go to another one." One tear dripped from my closed eye. I felt it hit my bloody hand.
"My dad died. I don't want you to die."
I know I should stop staring, but I couldn't help it. And he even knew I was staring at him. But he was a stranger. Only a stranger. A handsome one, but one that I would never see again. He made me not think. And that was better than thinking too much about the black coffin waiting for me when I got off the plane.
The family stared. They didn't know me. I would come back later. Yeah . . . later.
It came out a whisper that dragged out my insides with it.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, never one for manners I see," the man teased. Never taking his eyes off the book.
"But you will."
Manners. Yes, stranger, I never care for manners. Ask my old teachers. Rachel, I don't see how good she will do in this business if she can't learn other countries customs if she can't even learn her own!
"Funny, my mother said the same thing," I replied after a moment. More a muttered response. So did my teachers I could've mentioned.
"Hmmm, it seems that response was not a lie."
It was later, and the hole was filled.
I studied him for a second. "My name's Cammie," I said coolly.
He raises an eyebrow. "So cold for someone who likes to eye fuck people."
The stone was smooth. The words clear and cut. No extra words as who lay there. The person might have loved the smell of after the storm.
Anger swirled against my insides. Pounded against my heart. "I was not eye fucking you! I, I-I, screw you!"
They might have a girlfriend.
"Such a dirty mouth! It matches your dirty eyes I guess."
I lowered my voice and spoke in his ear. "I can kill you and make it an accident. I suggest you shut up now."
They could've had the prettiest eyes in the World.
I started to move away, then he stopped me with a catch of my arm. I cursed my heart for beating a little too fast when he did it. You too lungs for making me too breathy. The nose, for marking his scent to memory.
They maybe loved me. They maybe knew me. They maybe didn't.
"I'd break your arm before you could touch me, sweetheart", his breath whispered along my ear.
I rubbed my fingers against the words. Like I said, no extra words. A few syllables and spaces sum up his ending.
I shoved him away from me. He gave a chuckle like it was a joke. But I could kill him. So easy with that book he held in his hand. Don't kill him Cammie. Do. Not. Kill. Him.
"Who are you?" A voice says behind me.
"Someone he loves," I murmur.
I opened my eyes again. I brushed his hair away from his face. He was still alive. We still had time.
Not enough time.
But time never the less. "You're too tired to speak, so I won't make you."
"Sweetheart, your also not helping your case to the 'I have manners club'."
His eyes opened.
I turned.
There was a girl. A very pretty girl.
"My name's Cameron."
"Thought it was Cammie. Cameron, stiff name for someone so, so, not good. Someone a little bad." He gave another crooked smile.
Her bottom lip trembled. She had skin like coffee. Tall and thin and gorgeous. Carmel eyes that belong in chocolate.
"Your reply doesn't answer shit."
I felt it. That slow drip of numb. Drop. Drop. Like a broken faucet. So numb.
Too numb.
Joy bloomed like a flower among my insides. There was life! A life in his eyes, I swear it! The life disappeared ten seconds later. Taking away that flower which now lay dead inside.
"You don't need to know me," I paused for a second, "He loved you, Bex." I lowered my voice. "Not as much as he loved me." She didn't hear that part.
"How do you know me?" She took a step closer to me. Anger took over her body, but sadness still gripped her eyes.
"Bex, Bex, Bex", I shook my head sadly, "we are the same. No need to keep up with the strong exterior. . . You loved him. I loved him. We aren't that different."
I ran my fingers over the words on the stone again.
He was dead.
So I can't kill him, but I can hire people to kill him.
"Lighten up, Cammie."
I gritted my teeth. It will be a long flight. Though, I can't tell if I'm relived or pissed by that idea.
I pushed his lips to mine, one last time. I wanted to feel his life one last time. If I felt that tingle, he would be alive. If only for a second longer.
"Here, try this," the guy next to me said a little later, though, I had learned his name was Zach.
I studied the reddish, fizzing liquid in the glass. I reached over and took it from him. My fingers brushed his for a second. But, for that one second, I felt fire fill my body. Storm clouds race across my veins. Did he feel it too?
I took a sip from the glass, and soon a large gulp. It felt like smoke going down, but tasted like sour cherries.
They didn't kiss back.
I had one glass. Zach had one glass.
I had two glasses. Zach had two glasses.
But I guess they weren't suppose to.
Then another glass. I could feel it warming my insides. The alcohol swimming in my blood stream. I started laughing and I could not stop. My head fell into his shoulder. And it's where I left it. His breath was sweet like mine, but only a few seconds after my head had hit his shoulder had the alcohol disappear. Everything became clearer with that one little touch. Every cell in my body finding new life. Me finding new life. Just the touch of his shoulder. With his pink, pink lips so close. I wondered what his lips would taste like. Make me feel like.
His breath became my breath as he lowered his face closer to mine. I felt his hair first; tickling my face. No, it was his breath; warming my face. A brush. Simply brush of lips against one another. But it was still there. A hole in my heart appeared, a hole I had not known of, and him filling it to the brim. Making it disappear again. The spark that makes the whole fire. Simple brush that felt like a taste of life. Taste of heaven. I grabbed his collar and pushed his lips to mine.
My head pounded and I felt drunk.
I got up and brushed the dirt away from my dress, and wiped the sweat away from my forehead.
"You'll never see me again, Bex. I promise you. I had to say goodbye, okay? That's all."
Goodbye, again.
Storm clouds had rolled against my body. His finger tips against my cheek striking like lighting. Filling my body with fiery pain that wasn't pain but a drug I needed to live. Flames that licked against my beating heart. A heart that ran the same beat as his. Rain, cool rain filled with coldness that smacked against the fire that created steam which lifted me among the clouds to dark space. Stars twinkling like mad, shooting air into my body with every shine . . .
Goodbye Zach.
Then, it was gone. Like a whisper to the wind. With him pulling away. Me hurtling toward the ground. Nothing holding me.
I love you.
"What was that?" A whisper trailing along my skin.
I opened my mouth, but then we fell out of the sky.
One tear. Two tear. Three tears more.
I laughed. My body still feeling drunk, and my eyes bleeding water like a gash to the head. Maybe I was drunk. Not on alcohol, but on the blood that seeped everywhere among the beach.
Help would show soon, but it came too late. Too late for Zach. Any maybe, too late for that dead flower inside.
I screamed and yanked on my hair. His finally words bouncing along my head. His finally words before his eyes closed forever.
I love you.
I meet the love of my life on a plane. Then the plane crashed.
Author's Note: Hi whoever is reading this . . . so did you get the weird formatting? I have explanation below so . . . Umm, yeah, nothing else to say . . . But you should comment, you should also favorite, and have an awesome life. See you later (even though I probably won't because I don't know you exactly . . . )
Explanation: The formatting is three stories intertwined together. It is past, present, and future, and they center around this one sentence: "I meet the love of my life on a plane. Then the plane crashed." The sentence is all, with bold, italics, and normal. In future Cammie was at Zach's funeral; in past she was on the plane where she meet Zach, then the plane, you know, crashed, present was after the crash and Zach was dying from the crash. Also Zach had a girlfriend at the time which was Bex.