Total Immersion

By Ellis Carrington

A college study abroad trip goes bad fast when Evan's boyfriend dumps him right before takeoff. Last thing he wants is to make nice with the preppy stranger on the plane who won't leave him alone. Sweltering days, a shared hotel room, and embarrassing adult toy mishaps lead to an unexpected friendship. They couldn't possibly have less in common. A fact that matters less and less when you're thousands of miles from anyone you know. Turns out Bale wants to be more than friends with Evan. A lot more. Too bad Evan doesn't believe he's telling the truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Extraordinary Sparkle, LLC
• Release date: Jan 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781733605458

Ellis Carrington

Romance requires a hopeful ending and that is why Ellis Carrington is driven to write it. She loves to create original stories that are gritty, witty, and a little unexpected, just like the heroes who inhabit them. Her guys come in both human and non-human form because spirit guides and vampires deserve love too. Her favorite things are great friends, great music, and books that make her sob like there’s no tomorrow. Subscribe to her Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/ZpEcX Follow on Twitter:  @MMbyEllis Follow on Facebook: facebook.com/EllisCarringtonRomance Also from Ellis Carrington:  Stripped Clean Stripped Away Total Immersion Forbidden Love Immortal Valentine Yes, Sir    

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Dedication

This one is for Mary Calmes, because she told me to write it and I did. ;)

June 3, 2013—Dulles Airport—Ultra Airlines Economy Class

Evan

I sat there about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I couldn’t do this alone. Too bad the whir of the plane’s engines, the dinging and the announcing and the flight crew closing up all the doors told me I’d passed the point of being able to change my mind.

Pain like someone had stuck a jagged knife in my hip twisted through me. The dull blade worked its way up toward my spine as my nerves tried to crawl into my throat. In my head I reviewed the e-mail I’d gotten from Josh, over and over, which helped me relax not one bit.

It’s a great job offer, but they want me to start in a week.

You haven’t been the same since the accident.

I think we need some time apart, don’t you?

We were supposed to meet after he turned in his end-of-year management project, so we could ride to the airport together. Instead, we got into a heated discussion at the art quad and agreed that if he was prioritizing this job over coming to Turkey with me, he’d made his decision.

Awesome.

Hey there, I think this is my seat.

I looked up to find the preppiest kid I’d ever seen staring at me from the aisle with the bluest pair of blue eyes. I’m talking crazy blue. My mother would have called them electric. I called them.... Duke blue, maybe. Ultramarine?

I’d already officially thought about it too much. Didn’t stop me from wondering what other watercolors I’d pull out to paint them... Him.

The kid shrugged awkwardly with his backpack. You’re with the study group, right? I’m Bale. He held out his hand.

Sure. Yeah. I shook and grabbed my duffel from where it was blocking Bale’s ability to sit and shoved it under the seat in front of me. My hip popped, and another jab stuck me in the base of my spine. I tried to ignore the way it made my legs get tight. We had a long plane ride ahead.

So. Bale’s an interesting name. I took a deep breath and tried to find a way to sit that didn’t make me want to kill someone. Or swallow half the bottle of pills I brought.

Last name. Bale stuffed his backpack under the seat and pulled out a paperback book. Looked like some mystery or thriller, based on the picture of a dripping knife on the cover. "I was named ‘Christopher Matthew’ by my mother, who foresaw neither the rise to fame of the political commentator Chris Matthews or the Dark Knight actor Christian Bale. He shrugged and stuck the book in the seat-back pocket, flashing a grin at Evan. Since I’m not quick-thinking enough for political debates, and in high school drama class I sucked enough that they made me be the prompter, I go by Bale."

I realized he had me smiling after such a shit morning, and I suddenly I could actually breathe without a struggle. Evan. Stanton. Out the window, the runway zoomed by. This was it. Evan is my first name. Stanton is my last name. You’re not getting my middle name out of me.

Bale laughed. Now I wanna know.

I tried not to envy how Bale twisted and moved in his seat. Just watching the guy practically made my spine pop. Sorry. Actually, the real truth is I have no middle name.

Bale nudged his fist against mine on the tiny, poor excuse for an armrest. "Now I think you’re lying."

You’ll never know, I murmured. The flight attendants were doing their little safety demo up front, and my tension climbed again. A dull ache spread across my back. I wanted to grip the armrests for that bullshit extra feeling of security when the plane dipped, but Bale had his hand on one of them. I didn’t want to let on about my nerves. I grabbed a SkyMall catalogue and tried to pretend an extreme amount of interest in some contraption that grew tomatoes upside down. Meanwhile, my chest felt like it might crack open from all the pressure changes in the cabin.

Could chewing gum fix that kind of a problem?

See, I might hafta take that as a challenge. Bale nudged my arm again.

Great. Awesome. The ache in my spine made a slow crawl toward my legs. Shit, we had like thirteen hours of flying, including a stopover in Canada. I’d really been hoping for more of a grace period before I couldn’t feel my feet. This was such a disaster.

Hey listen, I said. So you know, I might need to get up a lot. The plane dipped again as we launched skyward. I gripped my leg, trying to calm down. I fucking hated when my nerves got out of control like this. I pointed to the aisle. I, uh, have trouble sitting still.

Like ADHD or something? The guy—Bale—he’d picked up his book, but he put it down again, eyes wide with what looked like actual worry.

I cleared my throat. Not something I usually shared with strangers, but I figured he deserved an explanation. No, it’s a physical thing. Fell down a long flight of stairs last semester and got myself all jacked up. I ran a hand along my leg, rubbing at a tight iliotibial band to try and show what I meant. My legs. Back. It’s that whole ‘knee bone connected to the other bones’ thing. I rolled my eyes, because I’d learned to make light. Talking about pain makes people squirm. Sitting sucks cuz it irritates my hip joints and shit. After a while, my legs go numb. Standing’s tough because that makes my lower back hurt, plus it makes other people uncomfortable. Everyone thinks you’re hovering and tries to get you to sit down.

That sucks. Bale nodded. I had a younger brother with something like—what was it? Tight muscle tone. He was born that way, though. Always scrunched up really tight. Always hurting and crying. He had a bunch of other issues too, though. Premature. Didn’t live long. He started to flip through his book, stopping at a dog-eared page. Anyway, sucks you’re in pain. I hope whatever you’ve got going on gets better.

Maybe it was Bale’s unexpected story about his baby brother dying, or maybe it was the fact that the jet had done another one of those tips in the air on the way to cruising altitude. Either way, my stomach flopped, and a weird