Whiskey and Pills

I have to pee. I have to pee. I have to pee. Oh my God, I have to pee.

When the fuck are they going to turn on the goddamn sign? I can't hold it anymore! Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.

I have to pee!

Cinda squeezed into her seat, trying to alleviate the pain of her bladder. She glanced over at the man next to her, poking him delicately in the arm.

"Jon. Jon. Jon. Jonathan...."

Taking one ear bud out, Jon slightly glanced at her annoyingly and mouthed, "What."

"Dude, I have to pee so bad!"

"Cin, so go. What are you doing?"

"The light is on"

"Go anyway, it's right there."

Cinda looked around noting the attendants were in the back and it looked like someone in the back of the plane was using the restroom. Quickly, she undid her seatbelt and flung herself out of her seat with a bit of a commotion.

When she calmly returned, she tried to catch Jon's eye, but he held his gaze on his magazine. Shrugging, she reached out to grab her whiskey from his tray and stopped.

God. I hate him. He's such an asshole. How am I going to get through this trip?

Ambien. That's what I need. I need Ambien.

Ammmmmbien. Shit. It's in my bag in the overhead. These people are gonna hate me.

Half-apologizing to those around her, she stood up and fumbled through her bag, looking for her little orange bottle of candies. Sitting back down, she emptied out a little blue pill into the palm of her hand and washed it down with a swig of her whiskey with a bit of a grimace.

It was a long trip to Singapore from Los Angeles—Cinda was desperate for an escape from her everyday life. An escape to her dream world where she could be with, dance with, and touch...him.

She put on her headphones and found the playlist she curated for the flight. Mmm. Yes, this will do just fine, she thought as she glanced at Jon. It's like he's a robot. He hasn't moved an inch.

A body caught her in the elbow causing her to nearly spill the rest of her drink. A comely attendant swooped down and asked in a sweet voice if Cinda would like another.

"Yes, please!"

Cross country trips were bad enough. This was excrutiating. Especially if Jonathan was counting on having any kind of conversation, which she did not want to do. As the warmth of the whiskey traveled throughout her body, she wondered what traveling with Matt would be like. Would they talk? Or sit silently. Would they laugh? People watch? Hold hands? Would they drink whiskey together? This, afterall, was his drink. Jon was right in looking at her oddly when she ordered it. She wasn't a huge fan, but this made her feel closer. Happier.

Her eyes started to grow heavy as she listened to her music, freezing in her seat, flickering alive when a new glass was set down in front of her. At this moment, Jon glanced over and mouthed, "take it easy."

Cinda shifted in her seat away from him and closed her eyes, hands still wrapped around her whiskey glass. She couldn't wait to get to the hotel room and take a long, hot bubble bath. She couldn't wait to get home after the trip and tell Matt all about it. She pictured his sandy hair and deep brown eyes—the way they would laugh together on the phone about things that weren't even funny.

We're not doing anything wrong, she thought. We're just the best of friends.

And then her thoughts took a long, labored pause.

Oh my god. I have to pee again....