Can you fall in love in, wait how long is the flight to Paris? Eight, maybe nine hours? So, can you fall in love in eight maybe nine hours? I think I might.

Starting with his very nice pillow gesture, I think my resolve to become a man-hater started to crumble. If this lustful tryst, that’s what I am calling it, turns out to be something more it will definitely be the rebound of the year.

I accepted the pillow, along with the short profile of himself that he offered: 27, French-American, divorced, no kids, one dog, and seemingly wealthy. This last attribute I am concluding on my own accord. I mean the guy has a Rolex, like really? Oh, and his name is Alexandre (said with French accent).

I did concede and offer up some information about myself. Sloane Hayward (he really liked my name), 24, American-American, no kids, no dogs, no nothing. I left it there. He also probably picked up on the harsh edge in my voice and didn’t prod for further personal information.

We are about two hours into the flight, and the first hour was me fidgeting awkwardly in my seat until he offered me the pillow once again, this time I accepted. And then we gave our short introduction paragraphs and then they came to serve wine.

As the trolley makes its way between us, Alexandre makes eyes at me from over top because the stewardess has seemingly mixed up every drink order she has taken. The stewardess turns to me first, “what can I get for you to drink M’am?” She has a very faint English accent.

“I’ll take whatever boxed white wine you have.” The stewardess gives a curt nod and then asks Marjorie and Eileen, the two elderly women sitting beside me who are absolute dolls, what they would like to drink. As she begins to pour the drinks, I see that my order for white wine has become red, and Marjorie and Eileen’s orders for water have turned into Sprite.

I look at Alexandre over the top of the cart and I can see the laughter bubbling inside of his eyes, and I don’t even need to see the smile on his face to know he is holding in laughter.

I tap the stewardess on her arm lightly to get her attention. “Umm, sorry to interrupt you but I just wanted to let you know that those drink orders were actually a white wine, and two waters.”

The stewardess slowly looks down at her trolley and the drinks that she has just poured and begins shaking her head furiously. “I am so sorry. I am all out of sorts today, my apologies. Do you want the red wine anyways; I’ll also pour you some white?”

I have never been one to turn down wine, and I won’t start now. “Sure, I’ll take the red too.” The stewardess proceeds to fix Marjorie and Eileen’s orders, giving them a side of Sprite. She must shift into gear after this last mishap because she takes Alexandre’s order, and his neighbors perfectly with no incident.

She pushes her trolley past, and Alexandre leans over and says, “Well didn’t you show her!” We share a chuckle and then turn to look at the stewardess as she screws up yet another order. “Never mind, you didn’t show her at all.” Alexandre says as he leans back into his seat.

“Hey, you can only bring the horse to the water.” I say with a shrug. “So what brings you to France, or should I say brings you back?” Slowly around us, passengers are settling in for one of the in-flight movies up for selection.

“It’s actually my little sister’s wedding. Never met the guy in my life, so we shall see how this goes.” I inwardly groan at the mention of a wedding. “What about you, what brings you to the city of Love?”

I cringe at the mention of love. “I definitely didn’t come for the love.” I mutter, before I even realize the words are out. He gives me a raised eyebrow. “I’m just … getting away from some stuff and it was the first flight out with empty seats.” He studies me closely before nods his head in acceptance.

“Well, if we’re still friends by the end of the flight, and you don’t have too many plans, I’d love to show you around maybe, while we’re there.” He gives me an innocent smile and I feel my remaining resolve fade away.

“I actually have no plans at all, so that would be nice.” Then I add, with a slight pulling at the right corner of my mouth, “If we’re still friends, that is.” The laughter that resonates from him is almost contagious. I can feel the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile. But nonetheless, the sorrow still lingers. I could only hope for one thing from this trip, and it’s for me to smile and really mean it.

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