Chris

The airport was buzzing. The light reflecting off the glass walls blinded your eyes, and a medley of scents hung in the air. You sat by the huge window, watching the planes slowly crawling down the runway. Ahead of you, just a couple of seats away, sat a guy.

Dark, slightly tousled hair, a concentrated expression as he read something on his phone, and the fine line of his cheekbones that you noticed when he tilted his head slightly. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and faded jeans, but there was something appealing about the simplicity. You were usually self-sufficient and not prone to instant crushes, but this guy… he was different.

Your phone vibrated. A message from your friend, Eleanor.

"So, have you made it to the airport? Are you in the departure area yet?"

You smiled. Eleanor had always been your main supporter and personal consultant on all matters of life, from choosing a dress to... situations like this.

"Yes, I'm sitting here, waiting. Flight to Barcelona. And then..."

You dialed, but stopped. How do you explain this to her?

"Are you fixated on another hot guy?"

It came instantly. Eleanor read you like an open book.

"Perhaps... He's sitting in front of me. Very handsome."

"Ooooh! Come on, send me a photo! I need to evaluate my competitor, otherwise you might forget about me when you go to sunny Spain!"

"Send a photo..."

You looked around. The people around you were immersed in their phones, books, conversations. No one was paying attention. You had a chance. Slowly, very slowly, you raised your phone, trying to keep it as low as possible. The shot was awkward; you had to bend your arm at an odd angle. You tried to capture his face, but either too much of his shoulder or the back of his head was blurry.

"Crap."

You whispered under your breath.

At that moment, the guy in front of you slowly turned his head. His gaze slid over your hand, over the phone you'd been trying to put away as discreetly as possible. His eyes met yours.

• Excuse me. Are you taking a picture of me?