TURBULENCE OF THE HEART

“Here’s your soda, princess,” Danny hissed, flicking the can across the cramped galley with a smirk. It bounced off the counter and rolled toward Esteban’s feet, the clatter sharp enough to turn a few passengers’ heads. Esteban’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he bent to retrieve the can.

“Nice aim, butch queen!” Esteban shot back, voice cold as the soda he was now holding like a dirty pair of socks. The unspoken history between them loomed large, memories of the last crew trip where Danny’s flippant remarks had left Esteban feeling belittled.

The cabin hummed with the low drone of the engines, but inside the tiny galley, the air was thick with tension—Danny and Esteban moving around each other like a separated married couple caught in a routine of avoidance. There wasn’t much space to escape each other, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Every glance was a jab, every word dipped in sarcasm.

Danny pulled open the cart, yanking out snacks, while Esteban popped the tab on the soda with a huff. They hadn’t spoken a single kind word to each other since the flight began.

From the back of the plane, Sabrina could hear their snide exchange despite the distance. She took a deep breath, adjusted her uniform, and strolled toward them, her eyes catching on a few passengers who looked up, clearly sensing the rising tension between their two flight attendants. By the time she reached the front galley, Sabrina had already rehearsed what she was going to say.

“Boys, if I can hear you from way back there, then the passengers definitely can,” Sabrina warned, her voice calm but commanding. She stood with the kind of composed confidence that came from years of handling airborne meltdowns and endless rounds of passenger complaints. Danny and Esteban threw her matching glares.

“Tell him to stop acting like he’s God’s gift to the airline,” Danny muttered, shoving a packet of pretzels at Esteban.

“Oh, please. As if I’m the problem,” Esteban scoffed, tossing his head before shooting Danny a glare. “Try working with a wannabe model who thinks he can throw shade at 30,000 feet.”

Sabrina raised a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, this isn’t a runway—this is a flight. And I’m not about to referee your telenovela. You two need to figure it out before someone gets really pissed.” She let her words hang between them, giving both guys a final stern look before returning to the back of the plane.

Hours later, their shift finally ended, but the unresolved tension still clung to them like turbulence after takeoff. Sabrina, having had enough of their bickering, decided it was time to intervene.

“Dinner in Crown Heights,” she declared, hands on her hips like she was calling the shots—and she was. “Both of you. We’re hitting the town, and maybe after a few drinks, you’ll realize you’re not sworn enemies.”

Danny opened his mouth to protest, but the thought of a Brooklyn night shut him up. Esteban gave a reluctant nod, his eyes still wary. The truce was temporary, but the promise of letting loose for the night had its own appeal.

Later, at a cozy spot off Eastern Parkway, the ice between them finally started to melt. Sabrina, ever the mastermind, ordered a round of cocktails, and after the first few sips, Danny cracked a grin. He started sharing stories about wild passengers and ridiculous in-flight requests, and to his surprise, Esteban laughed—like really laughed. The tension eased as they recounted tales of the most ridiculous passenger behavior.

As the evening progressed, Danny shared a little more about himself—his dreams of becoming a famous actor and the struggle he faced in a competitive world. Esteban surprised him by admitting how he once dealt with similar pressures in his own life.

“You know,” Danny said, swirling the last of his drink, “maybe you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

Esteban chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And maybe you’re not just a diva in training.”

Sabrina watched them with a satisfied grin, twirling her straw like a master puppeteer watching her work unfold. “Now that you two are playing nice, let’s hit a spot in Bushwick. We deserve to dance off this drama.”

Bathed in the kaleidoscopic light of Mood Ring, Danny and Esteban danced, their energy flickering between bold excitement and quiet ease, mirroring the ever-changing shades of the bar’s namesake. Sabrina twirled them both, laughing as they stumbled through the crowd, arms raised, eyes bright. For the first time, they weren’t just co-workers—they were friends, bonded by the chaos of their night out, the freedom in the music, and the shared relief of finally letting go.

By the time their three-day work trip ended, Danny and Esteban were no longer avoiding each other in the galley. They exchanged numbers, already planning a night out for their next layover. Sabrina, her matchmaking successful, gave them a knowing nod as they boarded the plane for their return flight.

As the plane ascended, Danny tossed a pack of pretzels to Esteban with a grin. “Hey diva, can you make sure these get to the right passengers this time?”

Esteban laughed, catching the pretzels with ease. “Only if you promise to let me model walk it to them.”

As the plane soared through a sky painted with hues of orange and pink, the atmosphere felt lighter, almost electric. The hum of laughter replaced the earlier tension, leaving only the promise of smooth skies ahead.