Chapter 3
Luke
Wes is laughing at me because he knows I screwed up.
“Dude, you are torturing yourself!” he says once his full-hearted belly laughter eases enough for him to form words.
“Shut up.” I chuck a pillow at him from across the room.
He finally takes a breather long enough to see my face, which is unamused.
I came to his apartment after getting off work, thinking he’d be excited to hear about my last-minute plans to go to Iceland with Harper, but instead I got this.
“I’m sorry, but why are you going on vacation with her?” He opens the fridge in his kitchen, looking for yet another snack.
“Because she’s my friend, and the trip sounded fun.” It’s the truth, but I also know in my gut it goes deeper than that, and so does Wes.
He closes the fridge and walks over to where I’m hovering by his front door, arms crossed.
“It has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been crushing on this girl for your entire life and now you have the opportunity to have it be just the two of you for a week?
Oh! And maybe by the end of that week she’ll start to fall for you, even though seeing each other practically every day for”—he pretends to think—“your entire existence hasn’t done the job? ”
“Her roommate bailed on her last minute. She couldn’t afford to go on the trip on her own, and I didn’t want Ava to lose all that money for nothing.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “How chivalrous of you.”
I already regret telling him about the trip. “Thanks,” I mumble.
“Be real with me.” He’s still smiling. “What do you think will happen on this trip?”
I shrug, coming to sit on the old leather chair Wes made me carry into his apartment when he moved in a couple months ago. The thing nearly broke my back hoisting it up the stairs, but man, is it the comfiest chair I’ve ever sat in.
“We go, we have fun, we come home. Resume life as normal.”
Wes shakes his head. “You go. You pine over her. Regret every moment you don’t tell her how much you want to be with her. You come home, more tortured and lovestruck than ever.”
I roll my eyes, wishing I had another pillow I could chuck at him. “I think I’m done venting to you.”
“Listen, all I’m saying is that if you’re going to go spend all this time with Harper, you gotta either ‘fess up or move on. Tell her how you feel or stop feeling that way.”
“Oh? That’s all? Okay, then tell me where there’s an off switch to my feelings.”
“No switch, but you can say something.”
“No,” I say quickly, basically on autopilot.
Ever since Wes noticed how I felt about Harper—which didn’t take long—he’s been on my case about getting over it or telling her.
Wes and I were randomly assigned together as roommates in college and have been friends ever since.
We used to hang out more until he decided to get his pilot’s license and start flying commercial.
I have no idea what inclined him to become a pilot in the first place, but now he’s gone every other week, flying to who knows where.
When he isn’t working, I’m lucky enough to be graced with his presence.
Or cursed with his presence. The jury is still out for debate.
Sometimes Wes and I have hung out with Harper as well.
After seeing us interact for one day, he turned to me, no joking in his eyes, and asked, “So when are you going to ask her out?” At the time, he didn’t know we’d known each other our entire lives and that moving from friends to more than that felt dangerous and risky—why ruin a good thing?
“Think of it. You two are essentially stranded together. You confess your feelings. She can’t run away and avoid you because it’s awkward.
You two will be forced to work it out. Cara hated me before we were stranded at our layover together.
Now look at us,” Wes says, referring to the same story he’s told me time and time again of how he met Cara.
He’s a pilot, she’s a flight attendant. She had sworn off pilots after dating one who cheated on her, but during a work layover, Wes managed to win her over. The rest is history.
“And if she doesn’t feel the same way?” I raise an eyebrow, doubtful.
“Then sharing hotel rooms is going to be very awkward.”
“Very helpful commentary. Keep it up!” I lay the sarcasm on thick.
This time it’s Wes who hurls the pillow at me. He gets up from the couch and goes to the fridge. I expect him to come back empty-handed again, but this time he pulls out a plate and some cold pizza. He motions to it, offering me some.
“All I’m saying.” He stops to take a bite. “Is that for once in your life you’re both single. You like her. You’ve always liked her. You’re going on a trip together. I’m not a romance expert—”
“You sure act like it,” I interrupt. He ignores me.
“It seems like the stars have aligned and you gotta shoot your shot.”
I give it some honest thought. Wes is right in a way.
Harper and I have been in each other’s lives forever, but since we reached the age where romantic feelings might pop up, one of us has always been dating someone else.
I’ve gone on plenty of dates with girls—even had a girlfriend here or there.
But the spark was never there, and it was always broken off because the girl I was dating would get jealous of the relationship I had with Harper.
Even I hadn’t seen Harper as anything more than a friend until Jessa—my girlfriend when I graduated from college—broke up with me because of the way I acted around Harper.
At first, I thought she was insinuating that I was cheating on her, but then I realized what Jessa meant.
I’m different around Harper. My mood changes when I see her.
My body physically reacts to her presence.
I used to think my overprotectiveness was just a brother-sister type of bond, but it’s more than that.
I want to be the one to fix her problems or the listening ear she needs when she’s struggling.
I’ve never liked any of her boyfriends. They didn’t do enough for her. And I think I felt that way not just because I care about her, but because I wanted to take their place.
Wes has been my sounding board ever since he made me realize that I’ve been getting worse and worse at hiding my feelings. And if Harper knows how I feel, she’s good at ignoring the problem, just like I am.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him. And I will. Though I can’t think of a scenario in which I’d risk our friendship for the tiny chance that she feels the same. I will consider talking to Harper, but if my feelings are so obvious to everyone else, wouldn’t Harper already know too?