The plane was crowded, passengers bustling around as they struggled to stow their bags and find their seats. You were holding up the entire line, and the weight of your carry-on wasn’t making things any easier. The weight felt unbearable, your arms straining as you tried to hoist it into the overhead bin. No matter how much you pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Your fingers fumbled uselessly with the bag, and just when you were ready to admit defeat, you heard a voice behind you, smooth and laced with sarcasm.

“I can help with those."

Startled, you turned to find yourself facing a tall stranger. Dark brown eyes locked onto yours, sharp and a little too perceptive, as if he’d already sized up your situation and found it mildly amusing. His broad shoulders and defined muscles didn’t help in making him any less beautiful.

“ Yes.. Please.” You stammered, suddenly feeling foolish.

With an effortless grace, he reached over, grabbing your bag as if it weighed nothing. In one fluid motion, he tossed it into the overhead bin and closed it, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

You muttered a quick, “Thanks,” but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he lingered for a moment, his eyes still on you.

Without another word, you ducked into your seat, hoping that was the end of the interaction. But as you watched him handle his own luggage with the same ease, your eyes followed him. He checked his ticket and then, of course, he started walking straight toward you.

“No way,” you whispered under your breath, heart sinking as he stopped right beside your row.

He glanced down at his ticket again, a flicker of something amused crossing his features. “Looks like I’m right here,” he said casually, gesturing to the empty seat beside you.

You let out a silent groan. This was embarrasing...

He slid into the seat, but just before he closed his eyes, you heard him mutter, “Good thing I was here, though. You looked like you were about to lose a wrestling match with that bag.”

This would be a long ride.