My frustration grew like the line of muttering passengers behind me with each failed attempt. "Come on, you stubborn jerk," I huffed each word under my breath.

I could do this if I found the right angle. I stood on my tiptoes and rammed the rough material once more with the muscles I'd gained lugging dive tanks on and off the boats daily.

My muscles cooperated too well. The force made my hands slip from my carry-on bag dangling from the overhead bin. My stomach dropped as my balance faltered, and I toppled forward into the seats, landing on the passenger in seat 37 B and the hard armrest. As the plastic dug into my arm and ribs, a string of curses left my lips, prompting a few gasps and chuckling. There must have been English speakers on this Hong Kong-bound flight. My body stung, and I hoped that wouldn't leave a bruise that would appear in all of Claire's wedding photos.

My bag then ceremoniously landed on my butt, because this wasn't humiliating enough. I exhaled from my mouth, hiding my red face from the others, perched upon this unsuspecting and warm stranger who'd cushioned part of my fall. Somehow, this guy with green shorts and brown hairy legs didn't shove me off in disgust.

I muttered an apology in my best but likely botched Indonesian. My cheeks burned, and I avoided looking up at his face.

"Sorry?" he asked in a very attractive Australian accent.

I didn't have a lot of weaknesses with attraction. Daily, I worked completely unaffected with half-dressed people my coworkers either claimed they'd bang in a heartbeat or actually did. My response to romantic eye contact was usually confusion, a playful stare down, or looking away awkwardly. But something about accents tickled my wanderlusting heart ‌like nothing else did. Perhaps it was years spent fantasizing about escaping brutal Canadian winters. I'd pictured myself running a surf shop on the beach in Australia with my doting partner. But I'd found that freedom solo, so I had no excuse for this reaction.

"Ma'am, you're blocking the aisle. Can you stand?" A woman asked from behind me.

Oh god, I was still on this man's lap! He was staring at me as were countless other passengers. I stood up quickly, smacking my head on the overhead bins despite being all of 5'2".

My lap pillow man rose and steadied me. His hands were so warm against my already sweaty shoulder. I shrugged him away but stayed out of the aisle.

"Are you alright?" His voice was sweet yet velvety.

Velvety. What was he, a pair of seventies bell bottoms? What the hell was wrong with me?

Right, possible head injury! Although I wasn't seeing stars or feeling dizzy. My mouth didn't taste of blood. Sweat and a racing heart seemed to be the major symptoms.

"Physically, I'm alright. Mentally, I am plummeting toward a pile of sharp rocks."

He smiled, accentuating his chin dimples and brightening his surprisingly green eyes. We were way too close for two strangers. Why did he have to be visibly in his late twenties like me too? That always upped the stress factor. Life couldn't have given me a break and made him a sweet sixty-year-old woman with a zest for life and a fun demeanour to offset this awkward situation.

"At least you'll be psychologically prepared should we all perish on the flight," he said.

My jaw dropped slightly, and he grimaced.

"Sorry, that was unexpectedly dark." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Are you sitting in this row?"

I raised my head and nearly smacked it a second time in an attempt to check on my bag, but his hand shot up and blocked the contact. He probably thought I was a complete klutz, though he wouldn't be wrong today.

He spared me having to locate my luggage by saying, "The flight attendant took care of your bag."

"Are you alright ma'am?" a Chinese woman in an airline uniform asked in English.

I turned to release her from babysitting me. "Yes, thank you." Then I faced Aussie Lap Man, who was examining me like a remora cleaner fish sizing up a manta ray. "I've got the aisle seat."

"Very fitting." His tone was dry, somewhere between teasing and serious.

"Ha, ha," I deadpanned, as we both took our seats. I kept my second smaller backpack on my lap to inspect how many items I'd crushed. My fingertips stroked the khaki-coloured material. "I didn't hurt you in the fall, did I?"

"Nah, I'm right as rain." That sounded so much cooler in his accent. "I am quite excited that I can tell my mate a pretty woman literally fell for me on our flight, or should I go with fell right into my lap?"

He didn't come across as overly cocky, more entertained than anything, but I wasn't super keen on what he was implying. I hadn't even properly looked at him before plummeting. Though if I'd heard that accent.

Focus, Audrey. Five hours is a long time to be stuck with a flirt.

"Technically, I fell for my bag, which wouldn't fit because some people brought ridiculously large carry-ons." I suspected he was one of them. "Is everyone that reluctant to pay for checked luggage?"

He tilted his head to the side and gave a cheeky grin. "Some of us may be experiencing a completely unfamiliar country and climate and need the extra space."

"So your final destination is not Hong Kong?" They would still have decent weather.

"No, I may be heading to your neck of the woods. Canada, eh?" He watched me with an eager smile.

Ah, so he was on a long-haul flight across the Pacific too. How did he figure that out so quickly? I wasn't the type to sew patches on my luggage, nor did my clothes give me away.

"I'm surprised that was your first guess, given my wonderfully gracious entrance."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled brown hair. It looked quite soft. "I know not all of you are that ridiculously polite or coordinated."

I grinned. "I live to defy stereotypes."

The third passenger in our row arrived, after stashing their carry-on in a nearby bin like some kind of professional, and we stood briefly to let the older Indonesian man pass.

As the elder settled into his spot with a neck pillow and earbuds, mine and the Aussie's gazes crossed. This could easily be the end of our conversation should he reach into his backpack to replace it with a personalized flight soundtrack. My fingers tapped on my purse, and he ran his hands up and down his jeans, glancing at the device and earbuds tucked in the seat pouch in front of him.

Did I dare keep chatting? He already probably believed I was a weirdo after that fall, but he'd joked about it. It might be nice to know someone on my other flight to Canada.

Our eyes met again, daring me to speak. "What's bringing you to Canada?"

He smiled at me. "Take a guess." It looked like I wasn't the only one enjoying this.

"Off to Tofino to surf and Vancouver Island to hike?"

He raised his thick eyebrows and nodded in appraisal. "I'm flattered you think I have that kind of athletic ability, but not quite."

His vague response to his surfing skills disappointed my inner teen Aussie-loving fangirl. She still wanted that surf shop dream, no matter how unrealistic that would be with a guy I tumbled onto on a plane.

"To the Rockies to explore and eventually work at a ski resort?" That was a popular enough backpacker dream I wouldn't mind doing myself one day.

"I'm a rubbish skier."

Okay, maybe he did surf if he didn't respond that way earlier. Why was I fixated on that? It didn't matter.

"Visiting Toronto or Montreal?"

He leaned closer as the passenger beside him arranged his pillow and blanket. "I was promised polar bears." The excitement in his final words was endearing.

"Really? Like at the zoo or some kind of illegal hunting trip?"

He chuckled. "It wouldn't be too bright to admit to that last one. But fear not for the creatures. It's more of a polar safari."

"In Churchill?" What were the odds that I'd be sitting beside someone I'd share all three flights with? Not that I was Churchill-bound, but we'd both be disembarking at the same major airport as the province only had one hub for larger long-haul interprovincial flights.

When he nodded, I said. "That is not a common answer. Most people visit the province because they live there or have family, minus you polar bear enthusiasts. That's quite the distance to travel for bears."

He smiled like a kid and leaned back in his seat. "They seem pretty bloody cool."

Between his accent and his adorable enthusiasm for wildlife, my heart was beating quickly. "You're punny."

He chuckled. "And what of you?"

"Also Manitoba-bound."

"Just finished a life-changing Eat-Pray-Love trail?" he teased with a laugh.

I shook my head, but as I sat there as a single white woman in a boho skirt who'd gained at least fifteen pounds since her arrival, I could see where the assumption came from. Except unlike the book's author, I hadn't had my heart broken. I'd fled for different reasons that few understood. It was best to keep them to myself. My family and friends would badger me enough upon my arrival.

"Heading to my first home for a quick visit with friends and family before I come back to my current home on Flores. I did quite a bit of eating throughout Southeast Asia, though. Pad Thai, pancit and mie goreng were my spaghetti."

"What does a Canadian do in Flores?"

"I'm a divemaster."

His eyes widened. "No way. Have you been down to the Great Barrier Reef?"

"Sadly, not yet." That would be a dream, minus the drastic shift in the cost of living there. "Someday. Have you been?"

He nodded, sending my jealousy to 42 thousand feet.

He devoted the rest of our boarding time telling me about following green sea turtles, marvelling at lionfish's impressive pectoral and dorsal fins, clown fishes darting through the anemones, and spotting different rays. I'd never been so interested in anything a stranger had to say. Hell, he was more interesting than half of the friends I kept in touch with. During his studies, he'd spent his summers on really cool internships but somehow landed a job working inland as an environmental scientist for a private company instead of exploring the coast.

"My coworkers would laugh at how I can't take a vacation without still being obsessed with diving and sea life," I said.

"We only need vacations from the things that wear us down." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I think it's charming how you're so taken by your work. You've found your calling."

My chest warmed, as his words meant more than he could ever know. Everyone thought it was a temporary holiday job, and I'd move back to resume the regular life I left in Manitoba. While I wasn't sure that Indonesia would be where I ended up for good, it certainly wouldn't be my hometown, over a thousand kilometres from any ocean.

As the plane taxied toward the runway, my seat partner focused on the terrain. Our aircraft waited its turn, with each sky-bound aircraft building both my excited anticipation and fear.

I loved take-offs, that rush taking over your chest as power overcame gravity to lift you into the air like a hollow-boned bird. Then the surrounding city would quickly shrink to miniatures alongside the ocean, with its fluctuating blue to turquoise and white rings around the islands and sandy beaches. I might not have had a window seat, but I suspected my seatmate wouldn't mind letting me lean over him to look.

"Are you still feeling alright, Ma'am?" the flight attendant asked as she passed.

"Top-notch, thank you."

My Aussie seatmate smiled at me. "Ready for this?"

Was I ready to start the journey toward my regrets and mistakes? Could I handle seeing Trevor again without fleeing? If I was lucky, our paths wouldn't cross. But I highly suspected that wouldn't be the case. Especially given that he was Claire's cousin.

You're going for Claire and Vince. The rest is white noise. It's only for three weeks then you'll be back on a dive boat, surrounded by your happy place.

"I was born ready," I spoke with far more confidence than I felt.

He grinned. "I can't wait until we touch down in the land of tuques, poutine, and polar bears."

Unlike him, at the end of this journey, my mom would be ready at the airport with plenty of criticism masquerading as advice about my life choices. If I could have afforded it, I would have gotten a hotel, but being a divemaster wasn't lucrative, as she would remind me daily.

The plane turned, so we were on the runway. After a few announcements in Cantonese, the engines roared to life, rumbling the aircraft. My seatmate smiled as the plane jetted forward, speed doubling with each second. Soon, that slightly unsettled excitement brewed in my stomach, and we were airborne.

As we climbed into the late afternoon sky and marvelled at mini Jakarta and the beautiful Indonesian archipelago, I let my worries fade.

Life was about the journey, not the destination, especially when the journey came with cute Australian wildlife enthusiasts.