Escaping Reality

flash in my mind, and I
    squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out my fear, the smoke, and
    gut-wrenching screams. My fingers curl around what I realize is Liam’s shirt,
    and on some level I know that I’m clinging to a man I barely know, but he is
    all I have. Somehow he is all that is keeping me from melting down.
    “Amy,” Liam whispers, stroking a hand down my hair. I tell myself it’s
    inappropriate for him to touch me like this. It’s also exactly what I need,
    and somehow so is he. I tell myself it’s simply that he’s at the right place at
    this very wrong time in my life, but it does nothing to discourage my
    reaction to his touch, to the warmth radiating from where my palms rest on
    his chest and up my arms. Without a conscious decision, I lean closer to him
    and my lashes lift, my eyes meeting his, and the connection shoots
    adrenaline through me. I am no longer in the hell of my head. I am right
    here with this man and he leaves no room for anything else.
    “Is she okay?”
    I jerk back at the sound of the flight attendant’s voice and Liam’s
    hands fall away from me, leaving me oddly cold. “Excuse me? Am I okay?” I
    ask, wondering what the heck I did that would merit that question.
    “She doesn’t like it when I talk sports,” Liam jokes, obviously trying to
    spare me a more personal explanation of…what? What the heck did I do?
    “Too much basketball makes me crazy,” I add, trying to snatch up the
    breadcrumbs Liam has tossed my way, but I fear I sound too strained to
    sound more than baffled.
    “It’s not basketball season,” she points out, looking less than pleased.
    “Since when does that stop a basketball fan from killing us with
    basketball talk?” I ask, and that earns me a deadpan look, which has me
    quickly shifting gears, trying to make blind amends. “I’m fine. Sorry if I
    caused some kind of trouble.”
    She frowns and glowers accusingly at Liam, and all signs of her early
    admiration of his overwhelmingly hotness from earlier are gone. “She
    doesn’t seem fine.” Her gaze shifts to me.
    “You shouted. It scared the heck out of us.”
    Shouted? Oh, good grief. Way to not bring attention to yourself, Amy.
    “I took a decongestant,” I say, trying to be truly convincing this time. “They
    make me sleepy and give me nightmares.”
    Her lips purse, but her expression quickly softens. “Well, that makes
    sense. Yes. I can see how that might happen to someone sensitive to
    medications, but boy oh boy they must have worked you over. We’ve only
    been in the air fifteen minutes and you were awake when we took off. You
    were knocked out hard and fast.”
    Which isn’t like me. Not on a normal day. Certainly not on a day I feel
    threatened. “I’m really sorry I scared you,” I offer, attempting a smile that
    I’m pretty sure never makes it to my lips. “I promise to stay awake the rest
    of the flight.”
    “You don’t have to promise that,” she says, and grins. “But maybe
    warn us before you go to sleep. We’ll have dinner served in five minutes.”
    She rushes away and Liam doesn’t give me time to savor her departure.
    “Decongestants?” Liam asks softly, drawing my gaze back to his.
    “My ears pop when I fly.” The lie comes easily. I’m back to the me I
    hate. “And unless you want to confess to drugging me, that’s my story and
    I’m sticking with it.”
    He studies me a bit too carefully for my own good, and something in
    his eyes has me warm all over and wishing he’d touch me again. “What are
    you afraid of, Amy?”
    You , I want to say. You scare me because you make me want to trust
    you. I laugh, and it sounds strained even to my own ears. “Godzilla,” I say,
    confessing the fictional monster I’d feared in childhood, until life had
    shown me real monsters existed.
    If I’d expected his laughter, he doesn’t give it to me. “Godzilla?” he
    prods, angling his body to block out anyone passing by us, his back to them,
    his body almost caging mine. The impact of this man’s full attention is
    overwhelming. My breath turns shallow, and to my utter disbelief, my
    nipples are tight and achy. I do not respond to men like this. I just…don’t.
    “Everyone has a proverbial monster under the bed,” I manage, and
    thankfully my voice sounds far more steady than I feel. “Godzilla is mine,” I
    continue. “And hey—at least there weren’t any hippos crossing the road in
    this nightmare. I’ve had that one a time or