Luton Lady
"Airline stewardess Chiamaka has a layover in Luton and a hotel room to kill time. When she bumps into old school friend Darren at the hotel bar, old feelings take flight."
Chiamaka spotted him first. Darren Williams, standing at the hotel bar like he'd walked straight out of her secondary school memories.
"Darren?"
He turned, and his face split into a grin. "Chiamaka? No way!"
Twenty years collapsed in an instant. The scrawny boy she'd kissed behind the science block was now a broad-shouldered man with kind eyes and the same smile that had made her heart race at sixteen.
"What are you doing in Luton?" she asked, accepting his offered drink.
"Business. You?"
"Layover. Twelve hours until my next flight."
His eyes traveled over her uniform—the fitted blouse, the skirt that hugged her curves. "You look incredible."
They talked for hours, catching up on two decades. His career, her travels. His divorce, her decision never to marry. The things they'd wanted at sixteen versus what they'd become.
"I had such a crush on you back then," he admitted. "Used to think about you all the time."
"You never said anything."
"Too scared. You were always so confident. So beautiful."
"I wasn't confident. I was terrified." She laughed. "But I wanted you to kiss me properly. That one time behind the science block wasn't enough."
"And now?"
The question hung between them, heavy with possibility.
"My room's on the third floor," Chiamaka said carefully.
"Is that an invitation?"
"It's information." She held his gaze. "What you do with it is up to you."
He stood, threw notes on the bar. "Lead the way."
The elevator ride was torture. They stood carefully apart, but she could feel his heat, his anticipation. When the doors opened, she walked quickly, heart pounding.
In her room, she turned to face him. "We shouldn't—"
"Probably not." He stepped closer. "Do you want to stop?"
"No."
Twenty years of wondering dissolved in that kiss. He backed her toward the bed, peeling away her uniform piece by piece.
"God, you've only gotten more beautiful," he breathed, taking in her body. Thick curves, soft skin, the body of a woman who'd lived and grown.
"You're not so bad yourself."
He laid her down and took his time—making up for that fumbled teenage kiss with grown-up skill. His mouth traveled everywhere, learning her, worshipping her.
"Yes—Darren—don't stop—"
She came twice before he even entered her.
When he finally did, it felt like coming home. They moved together with the ease of people who'd been waiting decades for this moment.
"I should have been braver at sixteen," he groaned. "Should have told you how I felt."
"Tell me now."
"I think I'm still in love with you. Is that insane?"
"Completely." She pulled him deeper. "Tell me again."
"I love you, Chiamaka. I've loved you since we were kids."
She came with his confession on her lips, and he followed soon after.
Morning came too soon. Her flight in six hours, his business meeting in two.
"This doesn't have to be goodbye," he said, watching her dress.
"We live in different cities."
"You travel constantly. London's easy." He caught her hand. "I spent twenty years wondering what if. I'm not spending another twenty."
She looked at him—this man who'd known her since before she knew herself.
"Call me when I land."
"I will."
"Promise?"
He kissed her. "I've been waiting twenty years to find you again. I'm not letting go now."
They made it work. Her layovers, his flexibility. Video calls across time zones. Reunions in hotel rooms and airport lounges.
"This is insane," her colleagues said. "Long distance with a secondary school crush?"
"Sometimes the crazy ones work," Chiamaka replied.
They did work. Better than either expected. And two years later, when he proposed in the same hotel bar where they'd reunited, she didn't hesitate.
"Took you long enough," she said, crying and laughing.
"Better late than never," he replied.
Twenty-two years from that first kiss to forever. Some flights were worth the wait.