“You are insane. I don’t think I’m going to last this plane ride. How can you not like any Christmas movies?”

Olive shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head to look at the list of movies.

“Fine. We can watch this one.” Her hand moved to the screen and began tapping away, pulling up the Harry Potter series. She pressed play on Sorcerer’s Stone, and I rolled my eyes.

“This is not a Christmas movie.”

She gave me a look of disgust and handed me a pair of headphones from the below compartment. “It definitely is, and if you don’t like it, you can sit somewhere else.” She turned her nose up like a brat.

“That’s not how airplanes work. You’re stuck with me.”

She scoffed and pushed the headphones into my lap. I ignored the way her soft hands spread warmth down my body as she brushed against my arm in the process.

“Well, you’re stuck watching Harry Potter.”

Olive was as stubborn as she was pretty, and I couldn’t decide if it pissed me off or turned me on. Maybe both. She had this attitude that told me she got everything she wanted, exactly the way she wanted. That, or at least she’d put up a good fight before giving in.

We each ordered another drink and put on our headphones. Every now and then I would tap her shoulder and ask a question about the scarred wizard on the screen. Each time she would roll her eyes, but always answered. Eventually, she’d tell me things before I even had the chance to ask, pulling back my headphones to whisper in my ear as the rest of the plane slept.

Halfway through, we ordered another drink, our third of the evening. Three turned into four, and although I was pretty sure it was illegal to be drunk on a plane, Olive and I were definitely tipsy.

“Do you think you’d catch the golden snitch?” She hiccupped in a cute squeak, and I nodded my head. The cabin seemed to be very floaty.

“Heck yeah! I’d catch that thing midair with nothing but my bare hands.” I hadn’t watched this movie in years, and I didn’t recognize most of the scenes, but it was adorable listening to her tell me all the details. In her alcohol-ridden state, Olive was an open book. She was sharing things with me that she no doubt wouldn’t have dreamed of saying only a couple of hours before. It was like a kid confessing their deepest secret after getting their wisdom teeth pulled. Meanwhile, I was just the local dentist who enjoyed the town drama.

“So, what are you all worried about seeing your family for, anyway? Are they in a cult or something?”

“Um, no.”

“Did they leave a sibling for the circus?”

“Why would—”

“Maybe a cousin who eats whole sticks of butter?”