His eyebrows crinkle together as he shoves the backpack above him. Lowering himself into the seat, he tugs on the seat belt. “Were you expecting someone else?”

His tone reads unamused. I can’t possibly be the only one out of the two of us surprised that we’re seated next to each other. Of all the people on this airplane—of all the people who booked a flight from Seattle to London on this day—how the hell did Callum and I end up seated together?

The universe is a sick bastard with an even sicker sense of humor.

“What . . . what in the world are you doing here?” I finally ask.

“Rushing to make my flight to London. What does it look like I’m doing?” There’s bite to his low tone.

Rushing. That’s probably why I didn’t see him in the boarding area. I purse my lips, once again cursing the universe for allowing Callum to make this flight by the skin of his teeth.

Gripping both armrests, I prop myself up straighter and pivot my gaze around the cabin. Every other passenger is seated. The only ones moving about are the flight attendants.

I fall back into my seat, my head spinning. When I turn my focus back on Callum, the wrinkle in his brow is even deeper.

He tilts his head to the side. “Do you think I somehow orchestrated this?”

I shrug, flipping through random pages of my book. “Out of all the flights to London today, we managed to be on the same one sitting next to each other. Anything’s possible at this point.”

He scoffs. “If you say so.”

I jerk my head toward him, ignoring the flight attendant standing just a few feet in front of us, pointing out the emergency exits while the voice over the intercom explains the safety procedures.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” I say. “We’re stuck next to each other for the next nine hours.”

“We’ll manage, I’m sure,” he mutters. He doesn’t even turn to me when he speaks, opting instead to keep his gaze pointed at the headrest in front of him.

“Well, I won’t.”

I wave down the flight attendant nearest me. She walks up to our row, polite smile plastered across her face. I try to mirror the same friendly expression, but I’m wound so tight that my smile probably looks more like a wince.

“What can I help you with, miss?” she says cheerily.

“Would I be able to switch to a different seat? Whatever empty one you have? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Relaxing, unwinding, zoning out, all of that will be impossible if I have to share an armrest with the guy who’s been a thorn in my side for the past several weeks.

Callum’s chest heaves up as he takes a slow, deep breath in.