Chapter 3 - Chapter Three: Between Flights and Firsts

The layover hotel was tucked just off a quiet street near the airport—sleek, modern, and far nicer than Ivy had expected. Her room smelled faintly of citrus and linen, the king-sized bed dressed in crisp white sheets that looked straight out of a catalog. She dropped her suitcase by the door, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed with a breathless smile.She had done it. Her first flight.Too wired to sleep, she wandered over to the tall window and pulled back the sheer curtain. The city spread out beneath her, still lit up even in the late hour. She could see planes landing in the distance, their lights blinking in rhythmic patterns like coded messages.She connected to the hotel Wi-Fi and video-called her roommate, Marcie."Oh my God, Ivy, you're glowing," Marcie said the moment her face appeared. "How was it? Did anyone throw up? Did you faint?"Ivy laughed. "No one threw up and I stayed conscious the whole time. I even got a candy from a grandma who somehow knew it was my first day."They talked for almost an hour, Ivy retelling every detail—her nervous boarding smile, Jason's reassuring comment, the clunky beverage cart, the moment her feet lifted off the ground. Marcie beamed with pride the whole time.After the call, Ivy took a long shower, letting the hot water ease the stiffness in her shoulders. The adrenaline from the flight was fading, replaced by a strange mix of calm and anticipation. She wrapped herself in a hotel robe that was three sizes too big and sank into the bed, scrolling through her photos from training.Her stomach rumbled, and the room service menu became her next adventure. She ordered grilled salmon, mashed potatoes, and a fancy-looking dessert she couldn't pronounce. When the tray arrived, she ate slowly, savoring every bite like it was part of some celebratory ritual. The waiter smiled politely, and she imagined for a second that he could tell it was her first real day.Back in bed, Ivy tried to sleep, but her mind wouldn't cooperate. She kept replaying the takeoff, the way the engines had roared beneath her feet, the way the plane had felt like it belonged in the sky. It wasn't just about surviving her first flight. It was about something more—a quiet thrill, a rush of purpose.At 5:42 a.m., her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. She fumbled for it with a groggy groan."Ivy Lucas?" a voice said on the other end. Professional. Calm."Yes, this is Ivy," she croaked, still halfway between dream and consciousness."Good morning. You're being scheduled on a last-minute flight to Las Vegas. Departure's in four hours. Please report to the crew lounge in two. Details are in your portal." "Las Vegas?" she echoed, blinking at the ceiling."Yes, ma'am. Congratulations—welcome to the real pace of flying."The call ended. Ivy stared at the phone for a second, then bolted upright. Her body protested—her bones ached, her eyes burned—but she was already scrambling to her feet. She barely had time to wash her face, throw on her uniform, and jam her hair into something resembling a bun. Her suitcase barely zipped shut as she wheeled it out of the room.The hallway was quiet, the elevator agonizingly slow. In the mirror, she looked exactly how she felt—tired, slightly disheveled, but weirdly proud.Las Vegas.Her second flight was about to begin—and this time, she wasn't afraid. She was ready.