While she enjoyed her martinis, today, the fine bubbles of champagne dissolved Micky comfortably into her business class seat. She rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers. The upgrade Nick had given her was already making her trip more enjoyable than any she'd ever had, and she hadn't even taken off yet. She'd have to make sure to thank him—extensively—when she got back from Paris.
It was too bad Taryn couldn't join her in business class. Micky almost felt guilty. Almost. She relaxed, examining the myriad of settings to adjust her seat for maximum comfort. Taken by all the buttons, she didn't notice when Taryn boarded until a smack on the shoulder made her look up.
"Seriously? Already with the champagne? You don't even like champagne. If we weren't such good friends, I would so hate you right now."
"I don't hate champagne. I just like vodka better. Would you like sip?"
Taryn looked up the aisle at the stagnating procession into coach.
"Give it to me, quick." Micky handed Taryn her glass and laughed as the petite woman grabbed it, downed it, and passed it back with a snap of her wrist.
"Hate me less?"
"A smidge, bitch," Taryn said and stuck her tongue out at her friend.
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