“Go back to the seat,” he said, his voice suddenly curiously soft, like he was trying to make it sound that way. I stared at him blankly, and then slowly slid past him, wondering exactly why I was doing what I was told. Oh, right, because I was wretchedly obsessed with him.
I grimaced to myself and sat down. Something was seriously wrong with me. Why else would I fall for someone who was still in love with a dead girl? Well, an almost dead girl. I sighed, fingering my phone and debating whether or not to turn it on and call Angela, since I had a brief window of time to, before we started descending over Florida. I decided not to and pocketed my phone, leaning back against my uncomfortable seat and wishing Angela had worked a little more of her magic to get us first class seats.
Drew returned then, with a blanket and a pillow. “You looked cold,” he said stiffly, handing them to me. I didn’t understand his voice or expression; they didn’t fit with this act of kindness.
“Thanks,” I whispered, taking them.