The airport was already testing your patience. TSA had been a nightmare, the lines moving at a snail’s pace, and just when you thought you were free, someone slammed into you at the security checkpoint.

"Watch where you're going," you snapped, stumbling forward as your bag nearly slipped off your shoulder.

"Me?" The guy scoffed, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket. "You’re the one who cut me off."

You turned, ready to fire back, but immediately regretted it. He was annoyingly attractive—the kind of guy who probably got away with everything because of his sharp jawline and perfectly disheveled hair.

"Well, if you'd stop hovering like a lost puppy, maybe I wouldn’t have," you shot back.

"Wow. Charming." He rolled his eyes and stepped ahead of you, tossing his belongings into a security bin with an infuriating level of ease. "No wonder the TSA agents look like they want to quit."

Before you could come up with a scathing retort, the agent waved you forward, effectively cutting off the argument. You huffed, snatching up your tray and moving through the scanner, muttering under your breath about entitled travelers.

At least you’d never have to see him again.

Or so you thought.

The moment your flight number flashed delayed on the screen, you groaned, trudging toward your gate. And just as you found a seat, you spotted him—smug and stretching like he had all the time in the world.

Perfect.

Still, you pushed him from your mind as you finally boarded, ready to put the disastrous airport experience behind you. Until, of course, you arrived at your row, checked your boarding pass, and found him standing in the aisle… staring at the exact same seat.

"You're kidding," you said flatly.

He glanced at your ticket, then at his own, before letting out a slow, dramatic sigh. "Well, this is going to be fun."