Jameson’s POV

“Thank you.” She acknowledged brightly, picking up her cutleries as she stared at the plate of spaghetti before her.

I made us carbonara as she said but mine contained some beef in it. She twirled the spaghetti around her fork and I watched her silently.

“Hmm, this is tasty,” she still had that smile on her face. Little things got her smiling so bright—I noticed.

She chewed the food in her mouth, the corner of her lips stained with the sauce as she looked at me. Silently asking why I wasn't eating yet. I tore my gaze from her, realizing that I was staring for too long.

I picked up my cutleries and began eating as well.

“Who taught you how to cook? Your Mom?” She asked, her voice coming out as a muffle. When I didn't respond, she opened her mouth to speak again before she began coughing.

I raised my head and saw her patting her chest. What's with this woman?

I reluctantly filled her empty glass with water, passing it to her and she gulped down half of the content.

“Th…That was close. Thanks,” She whispered, sipping more water before putting down the cup.

I don't know why I was distracted to eat because she was before me. Maybe its because she wasn't trying to impress me with the way she eats. So clumsy and a talkative.

I twirled the spaghetti around my fork. Took a bite, the taste was good but I wasn't savouring it. Taking a last bite from the beef, I lost my appetite.

“You can do the dishes.” I muttered, pressing the backward button before the forward button and rolled my wheelchair out of the kitchen.

“That means we made the food together, right?” She asked in a loud voice behind me but I didn't respond.

I went back to the cabin, threw my head backward with my eyes closed as a soft moan left my lips.

I really wanted a peaceful atmosphere without anyone talking to me. After punching the keyboard on the laptop for so long, all I wanted was to rest my head but she kept on talking.

And out of annoyance, I found myself lashing out at her more than I had intended. But she caught me off guard when I saw the tears in her eyes.

The fvck?

There wasn't any facade to put on than to wanna prepare the meals to solve the tension. I hate it when I make a woman cry. I'm not an @sshole.

I was still in my thoughts when I heard her approaching footsteps. What followed was her loud moan.

“Oh God, it's been so long I last did the dishes.” She commented, coming closer before sinking in her seat beside me.

I didn't say anything or acknowledge her presence.

“J, are you asleep already?” Her question made me snap my eyes open. But because my right arm was resting on my forehead, she couldn't see my eyes open so I closed them back.

J? Where was that even coming from?

“Well, I feel sleepy too after filling my tummy. Thank you.” She acknowledged, yet again.

Her continuous gratitude was starting to become uncomfortable. And then, I felt her resting her head on my shoulder, making me sat still.

She was being too familiar with me for my liking. Then she yawned loudly.

I opened my eyes, turning my head slightly to my side and found her wrapping her arms around herself with her eyes closed.

My gaze lingered on her face before moving slightly. But she snuggled closer to me, rubbing her arms together. Then I saw her mouth moving.

“I'm so tired.” She whispered under her breath. I shook my head when I heard her before I went back to resting my head with my eyes closed.

Silence engulfed us with only the jet engine being heard. After a short while, what followed was her soft breath.

She had fallen asleep.

I stayed in that position for a while before I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling the weight of her head pressing against my shoulder.

Her breathing was steady, completely oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t her personal pillow. With a huff, I tilted her head gently to rest against the seat, careful not to wake her. My fingers brushed her cheek briefly, and I drew back, shaking off the moment.

There was a blanket folded nearby, I had spotted it earlier when we boarded. Stretching as much as I could, I grabbed it, fumbling a bit before managing to unfold it. Then I draped the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She stirred slightly, her fingers curling instinctively into the fabric, pulling it closer to herself.

Still asleep, still completely unaware.

I leaned back, watching her for a moment, my eyes tracing her features.

Her nose was small, and her lips were slightly parted as she slept. There was a softness to her features, her face relaxed and peaceful in a way I hadn’t imagined. Strands of hair framed her face, messy from resting against me, but somehow it suited her.

Then she moved, enough for her head to slip off the seat but my hand had shot out before it fell too far.

It was light, and I carefully eased it back against the seat.

For a moment, I just stared at my hand. Nothing. No smudges, no streaks of makeup. I turned it over, as if expecting to find something I had missed, but it was clean.

The last time I had done something like this for Clara, my hands were covered in powder and foundation, like I had swiped my fingers through a makeup palette.

I studied her for a moment longer, wondering how someone could look so defenseless and yet so at ease. Then I shook my head, and let out a quiet scoff.

Why am I even thinking about this? Comparing her to Clara? Ridiculous.

Leaning back in my seat, I stretched a little, closing my eyes. She was fine and settled, and I was overthinking things.

I let out a slow breath and decided I could take a nap too. This flight wasn’t going to be short, and I wasn’t about to waste it overthinking someone I barely knew.