Hoping it got a laugh out of the man if nothing else, Micah wrapped it in some holiday wrapping paper he’d purchased from the same shop as the apron and packed it away in his bag Friday night, planning on giving it to Damon sometime during their trip.

Saturday morning – if 2:00 AM could be considered morning – saw Damon arriving at Micah’s apartment to pick him up as promised. Damon must have taken luggage and trunk space into consideration because instead of the usual Rolls-Royce, Geoffrey drove them to the nearest airport in an elongated Cadillac Escalade.

Micah was too tired to be as impressed as he probably should have been.

He woke up quickly though when they reached the airport, and after a quick stop at customs, he and Damon were escorted straight to the airstrip to the boarding ramp of a private jet.

Micah had been expecting a commercial flight – first class, sure, because it was Damon – but a frickin’ private jet? He knew he looked like an idiot, standing there on the tarmac, gawking at the plane with wide eyes as he tried to collect himself.

“Of course, you have your own plane,” he said to the man beside him, aiming for petulant, but sounding awed despite his efforts.

Damon, for his part, seemed amused by Micah’s dumbstruck expression, and he took great pleasure in leading Micah up the ramp, and showing him around the plane – which featured both a mini-bar and a big screen television – before they were informed by the pilot, a man Damon merely referred to as “Miguel”, to strap on their seatbelts for take-off.

Once they reached the correct altitude, they were allowed to roam as they pleased, but Micah was still tired – it was barely 3:00 AM – and Damon was already sitting beside him on one of the plane’s couches, working on something on his laptop, so Micah merely unbuckled, got comfortable, and allowed himself to doze.

He must have managed to fall completely back under sleep’s spell because an indeterminable amount of time later, he was being gently shaken awake. “Micah?”

“Hm?” he mumbled incoherently.

“Wake up. The sun is rising.”

Micah peeked an eye open. “What?” he asked, confused in the way one could only be in the first seconds after being suddenly awakened from deep sleep. He vaguely noted that he’d somehow wound up curled against the man’s side, his head resting on Damon’s shoulder.

That was enough to startle him awake. He hurriedly straightened, mortified to see a damp spot on Damon’s dress shirt where he’d been drooling. Why hadn’t the man woken him up?