“No, no the reliefs should go in front. Why? What do you mean why?”

I shift the phone from one ear to the other, juggling my bags while struggling to get to my wallet for my I.D. I’m digging in my purse, growling as my carry-on slides from my shoulder to the crook of my elbow. I sigh, struggling to keep my patience as the security guard glares at me and waits. I fucking hate flying; the packing, the security, the tiny seats on the plane. I hate it all

A large hand rests lightly on my shoulder as another reaches for my bag. I look up and he just gives me a small smile, shouldering my carry-on along with his. I smile tensely.

This was his idea, this little vacation. Ever since we met again in early March my life has been a whirlwind of red eye flights and early morning goodbyes whispered against bare flesh, both of us doing everything we can to spend every moment together possible. Even though we both do our best to be with each other it still doesn’t change the fact that I am gearing up to take over my department at the end of the summer and Justin is… well… Justin.

“The reliefs need to go in front because they are from 350 B.C. and the figures are from 42 B.C.,” I explain as calmly as possible considering the intern I’m speaking to is a moron.

A TSA official checks my I.D. and Justin is moving towards the exit to the tarmac, standing next to Tiny as he pauses to wait for me to catch up. When he asked me to spend Fourth of July weekend with him I immediately said yes. It was the first time I’d seen him in two weeks and even after we’d spent hours in bed together I was still ravenous for any part of him. So I had said yes when he invited me to LA to meet his friends but the next day after he had left to wherever it was he had to be and the bed was made I began to worry just slightly that this may not be the best of ideas. I mean he and I haven’t spent any real time together in ten years. The last three months have been a blur of sex and skin and while that has been great…beyond great really, it doesn’t hide the fact that I’ve changed. He’s changed. What if we don’t even like each other anymore?

Justin pushes the door open and a warm breeze blows in, ruffling his t-shirt, giving me a peek at the tan skin between his hip bones. Well, I doubt we’ll ever not like each other in some way or another. But spending a whole week together, seven days, a vacation together, going away together is a pretty big step. One that I’m wondering if we should have waited a little longer to take.

My mind jars as the person I’m speaking to on the phone says something completely absurd.

“What do you mean the figures are older?” I exclaim. “I just told you-”

“Skylar,” Justin says softly and I hurry after him, following him outside, the private plane waiting for us on the runway.

“The figures are not older! Did you not hear what I just said?”

“Sky,” Justin says, sighing and turning to me, walking backwards.

“I said the figures were from 42 B.C. and the reliefs are from 300 B.C.”

“Sky.” His voice is flat and warning. But I’m not listening because my intern is a fucking idiot.

“Oh my god,” I mutter, bringing my hand to my temple and closing my eyes in frustration. “We are talking about B.C. as in ‘before Christ’ as in the higher the year the older the piece!!!” I swear to god I’m going to rip this kid’s head off when I-

Justin snatches the phone from me and I whimper slightly reaching for it but he catches my wrist in his hand, clearing his throat and placing the receiver to his ear. I watch horrified as he speaks in a cool, pleasant tone:

“I’m sorry, Dr. McKibbons is on vacation until next Wednesday”. If you have any questions, please contact her assistant or leave her a voicemail at her office. Thank you and have a nice day.”

I’m staring at him slack jawed as he snaps my phone shut and slips it in the front pocket of his sweats, grinning at me. I look around dumbly, feeling strangely cut off from the world.

“You’ll get it back at the end of the vacation,” he says pecking my forehead and I give him a withered look. He sighs. “And they call me a work-a-holic.”

“Oh ha ha,” I reply condescendingly, following him onto the plane.

This is going to be an interesting weekend.