He doesn’t budge. “Oh, we’re going to the same place, sweetheart.”

I can feel the crowd behind me losing their patience, and so am I. “That’s right,” I say in my best kindergarten teacher voice. “We are. In our assigned seats.”

The guy grumbles and yanks the armrest up as he slides into his rightful middle seat. I’m forced to contort my body over his, which is no small feat for anyone, much less a plus-size girl in a flying tuna can.

I sit down and say a prayer that the seat belt will fit. You never know on planes. Sometimes the seat belts are just fine, other times I swear that the only people the manufacturers had in mind were children. Luckily, though, this time I’m able to safely buckle up without having to ask the flight attendant for a seat-belt extender.

I close my eyes and press my body into the wall of the plane. Either I’m going to sleep for the next six hours or I’m going to pretend to, because I’m not talking to this man-spreader any more than I have to.

Call it exhaustion or determination, but I pass out for the first two hours, and when I finally look out the window, we’re somewhere over the sprawling plains of the Midwest. What wakes me, however, is my King Bro seatmate standing up to go to the bathroom.

The woman in the aisle seat looks over to me as he wiggles past her, and we share a knowing look.

I take the moment of freedom to reach into my bag for headphones and see what the airline has to offer in regard to entertainment.

“Excuse me? Miss?” a familiar voice asks.

I look up to find Prince Charming holding my Balenciaga slide out to me from the aisle. He looks down to the woman in the aisle seat. “Pardon my reach.” And then back to me. “I think you might have lost this in our…kerfuffle.”

I let out a snort. “Is that what you call it?”

He smiles. “I watch a lot of Masterpiece Theatre, okay?”

“Oh, really? Are you more of a Downton Abbey fan, or does Poldark really scratch that itch for you?”

“Well, since you asked, I’m ride or die for Death Comes to Pemberley.”

“Okay, you really are an old woman.”

The woman in the aisle seat eyes me.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” I say too loudly, and find myself very grateful for the roar of the jet.

Just then King Bro is back. He looks to Prince Charming and squares his shoulders, nostrils flaring. Men like him are a species I have no interest in acquainting myself with.

“Hey, man,” says Prince Charming.

King Bro tilts his chin upward. “Sup.”

Prince Charming points to the middle seat. “That your seat?”

King Bro nods once, and I’m surprised he doesn’t beat his chest to claim his territory.

“You interested in switching?” Prince Charming points back, a few aisles up. “I’m right there on the aisle. Extra legroom.”

King Bro looks to me. “This guy bothering you?”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Uh, no.”

King Bro eyes Prince Charming.

And then Prince Charming gives him a grin—the kind that works on every living thing. “Just wanting to catch up with an old friend.”

King Bro laughs. “Well, bro, don’t let me stop you! Exsqueeze me,” he says as he stretches over the woman in the aisle. He lifts his head to me briefly. “Sorry, babe. Legroom calls!”

You know, the exsqueeze me had almost endeared him to me, but then he had to go and call me babe.

After a quick bag switch, Prince Charming is settling in next to me, and my mind begins to sputter about all the ways my heavyset hips might encroach on his space.

“I can put the armrest back down if you want,” I tell him, already picturing the bruise it will leave on my thigh.

“Nah, I’m good.” He reaches down between his legs and under his own seat, feeling around with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Everything good down there?”

A sheepish expression passes over his face. “I…was checking for a life jacket.”

I lean a little closer and whisper, “You know we’re flying over an uninterrupted continent, right?”

“We could go down over a lake,” he says very seriously. “Or a river. An exceptionally wide river. You don’t know.”

I hold my hands up. “Fair.”

“It’s not that neurotic,” he says defensively. “I just want to be prepared.”

I check under my seat quickly. “Tip-top shape here.”

“Oh, if you think this is dramatic on my part, you should see me on a helicopter. I would rather lie naked in a pit of scorpions.”

“That’s…a visual,” I say, unable to ignore the warmth in my cheeks at the thought of him naked.

“Who would even want to fly on a helicopter? If that propeller goes, you’re done.”

“They’re like the motorcycles of the sky,” I say, egging him on a little.

“Yes! Thank you. Well, now that you know my deepest fear, I can officially trust you to help me with my drop-down mask when the time comes.”

“I swear to properly apply mine and then help all the surrounding children, yourself included.”

“Thanks.” His grin sparkles.

I feel that eager twitch in my chest like when your sense of humor perfectly aligns with someone else’s. It’s like scrolling through radio stations. Static, static, static, and then suddenly—click!—they’re on the right wavelength.

We sit there for a few moments, completely silent, staring blankly into the screens on the seat backs in front of us. Finally, the woman on the aisle snorts before putting her headphones back in and returning to her crossword.

“Extra legroom? Is that all?” I ask. “You look like a first-class kind of guy.” And he really does in his crisp white T-shirt, fitted dark jeans, olive-green bomber, and a pair of sneakers from a small brand out of Australia that is about to explode.

“Well, since you mention it, I was in business, but missed my first flight, so I took what I could get.”

I groan. “There’s nothing good about missing a flight.”

He shrugs. “This isn’t so bad.”

I have to press my lips downward to stop myself from smiling like a total goober. “So what was it? Traffic? TV show filming on your street? Trekking to JFK is like a real-life hero’s journey.”