Mark’s attention was drawn back into the cabin when a woman asked the flight attendant for some water. The actor-slash-model’s eyes took in the woman’s slight build and pretty face. He assumed that she was some rich daddy’s little princess from the way she dressed like she was trying to not look rich. He scanned her briefly, then turned to look away. He pulled his phone out of his pockets and nestled ear buds into place as he decided to tune out the world.<br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">The Song He is Listening to</span></span>
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</div>He leaned his head his head back, closing his eyes and smiling softly as he ignored the flight crews’ emergency procedures instructions. Mark had heard it so many times he could practically recite them; a consequence of learning lines for his career. As the song played his fingers tapped on the armrest, as if he had no other care in the world.<br/><br/>In truth, he had a lot to be worried about. The first was that he was taking a big risk in leaving for weeklong retreat with the lead offer still on the table. Things could change in a day in Hollywood – a sure bet contract wasn’t sure until the papers were signed. Even then, the studios usually had an ‘out’ built in right up to the first day of production. Still, he had enough clout in this role to give the dice a roll. Besides, he deserved it.<br/><br/>He felt the plane begin to move.<i>‘Finally!’</i>he thought to himself, opening his eyes and glancing out the window again. The girl’s face seemed to frame the view, and Mark took care to keep his eyes looking past her, lest she think he was interested. The last thing he wanted was to get some poor girl’s hopes up by making her think she might have a chance with him.<br/><br/>He wouldn’t blame her if she did. She was at least a… maybe an eight? Mark frowned slightly as the wheels of the plane bumped and the cabin swayed as they got into position to take off. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom:<br/><br/><i>“Good morning, this is your pilot, Captain Barton speaking. We’ll be in for a bumpy takeoff on this cold October morning. Just hold on tight; as soon as we clear the clouds and reach our cruising altitude we’ll be in for a much smoother flight. Once we’re steady, the flight attendants will be by to offer you refreshments. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the takeoff.”</i><br/><br/>Mark propped his feet up in the chair across from him and pulled out a magazine, idly flipping through its glossy adds. He came upon a familiar face and smiled to himself. There, on<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Ffuckingyoung.es%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2012%2F04%2Fparkhercule1.jpg&amp;hash=08da31b5ce9a0ccdc7807b1c4c5d16ea" href="https://fuckingyoung.es/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/parkhercule1.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">a full-page spread</a>, was a picture of him leaning against an old Mercedes, wearing some overpriced clothes from Calvin Klein. It always thrilled him to see a picture of himself or an article unexpectedly. It made him feel<i>seen. </i><br/><br/>He reached up, felt the scruff on his face that was so loved by the camera, and smiled. His agent had been right – once he started letting his beard grow just enough to look scruffy, the offers came in.<br/><br/>Once he had finished admiring himself on the page he turned it to the next, and started skimming an article on<i>How Pets Make You Happier, </i>and felt the plane rev its engines and begin speeding down the runway. “Finally,” he muttered, turning the page. He didn’t want a little bit of weather to ruin is vacation.