"You're Just too Good To Be True"


I met him on a plane. People meet people all the time on planes. Like the movie 'Fight Club' says, they have single serving friends. It's not really anything life changing or epic.

Except it was for me. After I met him, my whole life took a dramatic turn.

Not that it matters, but let me fill you in on my life before him, and give you a bit more understanding about who you're dealing with for however many chapters here.

My name is Eleanor Lynden, but I only go by Ellie out of embarrassment of my old lady name. I have brown hair, which I dye red. I'm not very tall, a bit fair-skinned, have a few freckles, and am otherwise neither pretty nor plain. I'm also shy, and don't have many friends due to my lack of social tact.

I haven't really led a charmed life. I have a serious medical condition in my heart, making me tired all the time. My father left when I was fourteen. My mom is insane and very ill. She got remarried to my stepdad Carl, who recently started sexually assaulting me. I am now almost never seen without my sleeve extender gloves because my hands feel dirty. I don't touch any outfit I wear the days it happens. And any man touching me, whether it be a brush of the hand or anything, makes me sick to my stomach. A day at a time, you know?

So, I guess good ol' Fate thought I was long overdue for some good luck. Some extra good, cliché, only happens in movies, way too freakin' good to be true luck.

I desperately wanted to be away from home for a while, so my mom had arranged for me to stay with my grandmother in New York for the summer and perhaps indefinitely, so that she could keep Carl without me around to 'tempt' him, as she puts it. It was a simple getaway plan, one I figured consisted of me hanging around my grandmother's house all day eating take-out and maybe visiting Central Park every once in a while. I was all too happy to have a chance at escape and starting a new life.

My mom treated me to a first class ticket, and boarded a very ordinary plane and was treated very pleasantly. I was very into a story I was writing, and dived into it while purposely escaping the outside world. I put my favorite binder on my lap, one I had customized with photos of friends and handsome men I had clipped out of magazines. I stared at the friends I had left behind, already missing them.

Then I heard something that changed my life forever.

"Oh, my God," said the boy sitting next to me. "I can't believe you have that picture. It's so old."

The boy pointed to the picture in the top left corner of my binder, one of a blonde boy I had clipped out of a Cosmo Girl magazine because I thought he was cute. The boy in the photo had long, peroxide blonde locks, obviously green eyes and very full lips. His skin was just the right shade of tan perfection. In the picture, he was shirtless, holding a fuzzy black teddy bear on his back like he was giving it a piggyback ride.

I did some quick takes from the photo, to the boy sitting next to me: Boy. Photo. Boy. Photo. Sure as hell, it was the same boy. Talk about ironic. Not to mention embarrassing as hell.

"I mean," the boy went on. "How many manly guys do you know who carry around teddies? I'll tell you. None."

He held out his hand for me to shake.


I took his hand slowly, my mouth still gaping in shock. He leaned close to whisper:

"Now's the part where you give me your name."

I took his hand and still didn't speak.

He started to squint at me in confusion.

"Are we communicating? Do you speak English? Sign language?"

"I speak English," I said quickly.

"Oh good," he smiled a gorgeous smile that almost made me faint. "Can I get your name?"

"Eleanor. Ellie."

It was then I realized I was still holding his hand. In fact, I didn't want to let go. It was a big step for me, to be actually touching a man and not fearing he would attempt to harass me in any way.

Oh wait, there goes that racing heart and sudden panicked fear again, and I quickly snapped out of his hand's grasp.

"I'm sorry I sound retarded," I breathed quickly. "And that I held your hand awkwardly long."

"It's cool, I didn't mind one bit," he let out a tiny laugh. "I kinda liked it, really."

I blushed and fidgeted with my binder and wondered what the hell alternate universe I had stepped into. I dared not question it lest it dissolve into one of my greatest dreams. He leaned close to whisper again.

"I'm very glad that I got stuck sitting next to a pretty girl for five and a half hours of flight time."

I gulped. He was so handsome. And hitting on me. Something had shifted in the earth to make rainbows appear in my lifetime of gray skies.

"I'm twenty-two," he announced. "Can I ask how old you are?"

"I'm twenty-one," I replied.

"And why are you heading to New York?"

I was surprised at how hard he was trying to make conversation with me. It was getting easier to talk to him the more time went on.

"I'm visiting my grandmother for the summer. You?"

"Going home to my fav- I mean, my apartment."

"And why were you in California?" I asked curiously.

"Um, a photoshoot actually."

I nodded understandingly and wondered why I didn't just assume that myself. I found myself insanely curious about this god-like man, and just had to know more.

"Did you got to school for modeling or were you just sort of thrown into it?" I asked.

"No, I actually studied law."

"Oh really?" I shifted in my seat excitedly. A model AND a potential lawyer? Could he get any more awesome? "Where did you study law?"

"Uh, Yale."

I frowned. Now he had to be lying.

"Get outta town."

"No, really, look!" he defended, pulling out his iPhone from his pocket and flipping through it to find a particular picture. "Here, see?"

I peered at his phone screen and saw him dressed in graduation robes, proudly holding a fancy square diploma. A sign behind him clearly said 'Yale University'.

"I won't doubt you again," I promised. He nodded, satisfied.

"Who's the lady with you?" I asked, pointing to a lady who may have looked just like him prior to the fifty million face-lifts. "Is that your mom?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "That's my mama." He flipped to the next picture. "This here is my sister, Ashlyn."

"Aw, she's pretty too," I cooed. The whole lot of them seemed genetically gorgeous.

"Did you say 'pretty too'?" he asked. "As in you think I'm pretty as well?"

I blushed again.

"Well, you should know that by now," I mumbled. "I mean, you are a model."

"I am a model," he agreed. "But it's just for fun until I decide what I want to do with my life."

"You don't want to be a lawyer?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. My mom wants me to, but I don't know. I'm happy just stalling for now until I figure it out."

"You're young," I assured him. "You have time."

"That's what I say," he nodded agreeably. "I'm in no hurry to get behind a desk."

I envied him for his problems. I suddenly wished we could switch places, that I could be the handsome young Yale graduate that had to decide between being a successful model or a successful lawyer. I huffed, feeling like I was a very small, unsuccessful nobody going nowhere and doing nothing with their life.

"Would you mind terribly if I got your phone number?" he said very gently and seriously. I widened my eyes in surprise again.

"Why?" I said before I could stop myself.

"To call you…?" he replied in confusion. "You're really nice and I was hoping after we land I might be able to see you again sometime."

I frowned and looked elsewhere.

"What?" he asked with concern. "Was I being too forward? I'm really very sorry if I was."

"You're not serious," I sighed in frustration. "You really want my phone number right now? Me?"

"Yes!" he cried enthusiastically. "I think Fate was trying to tell us something by you having me on your binder, and me happening to sit next to you. I assume because I am pasted to your folder that you find me attractive too."

I frowned some more, still not buying something that was clearly out of my league.

"I'm not stupid," I grumbled. "Don't think I'm going to just sleep with you because I find you astoundingly handsome."

"'Astoundingly handsome'," he said quietly. "I like that. I take slight offense to you assuming that just because I have a glamorous job, that means I'm a shallow prick. I honestly enjoy talking to you, and I hope to talk to you again sometime, perhaps over coffee. You don't even have to touch me if you don't want to. Keep in mind that I would like for you to touch me, the door is open for you to touch me, but I won't try to force you."

I rolled my eyes and was secretly a mad mixture of very afraid and very turned on.

"What do you say?" Hayden, the Greek God of a man, said unto me. "Would you honor me with your digits?"

I gulped, and quickly surveyed the situation before me. Taking a chance with him was asking for trouble and certain disappointment. But how often did chances like this come around? He was surely handsome enough. So handsome that I was mentally prepared for the inevitable letdown. So, really, there was little risk of heartbreak, if I assumed it was coming.

But oh, that small, peeking chance that he was genuinely interested in plain, little ol' me. It would be like winning the lottery… and just as unlikely. But, somehow, still a risk worth taking.

I pulled out my red pen out of my binder, wrote down my number on a piece of lined paper, and tore it off for him. He did the same for me.

"Ha ha," he gloated, gazing over my number like he had won some sort of prize. He then pocketed it and winked at me. "You're mine now!"

Little did I know, how true he was…

New (short?) story! Just a little something I was working on. You know the drill- please review!