Chapter 6
Luke
Harper runs off into the ladies’ room, zooming through the crowd of people surrounding the boarding area. I’m about to shout her name, to tell her not to go, but I figure I won’t panic until she’s still not here by the time they start boarding our group.
I pick at the cinnamon bun, watching as everyone begins to board the plane, slowly working through the line of people. I pull at my phone to check the time and see a text from Wes.
Don’t forget to tell Harper how you feel ??
I roll my eyes reading it. Typical Wes.
I don’t answer the text message but delete it in case Harper picks up my phone.
And then the thought occurs to me: When did that text message come through?
I’d left my phone behind when I’d gotten up to go to the bathroom. Could Harper have seen the message?
I’m flipping through my phone, trying to figure out how to un-delete the message, but when I’m close to figuring it out, I see Harper coming back and put my phone down.
I turn my attention to the cinnamon bun. Stuffing a bite in my mouth is the best I can do to disguise the guilty look on my face.
Harper keeps her gaze trained down, and I try to watch her, to watch her body language to see if maybe she read the message. I glance away, afraid to seem suspicious staring her down.
What am I doing?
“Now boarding group three for flight FI630.”
Harper grabs her carry-on and takes the cinnamon bun from me. “Let’s go,” she says, taking another bite while she waits for me to get my bag.
If she did read the text message, then I guess we’re both using the cinnamon bun as a buffer.
We wait in line to board, neither one of us saying anything.
I have no intention of telling Harper how I feel. Not on this trip nor any time in the future. The easy, friendly banter we have is too good to risk making it romantic. The reward isn’t worth it. At least that’s what I keep trying to convince myself.
“You want the window seat?” she asks, finally breaking the silence between us.
“I thought you had the window seat.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but we can switch if you want.”
I let my eyes wander over her, perhaps a little too long, trying to decipher again if she read the message from Wes.
She waits for my answer, conveying nothing.
“No, it’s fine,” I tell her. “I don’t mind the middle.”
She didn’t read the text message. At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. When we’re standing in silence again, her face shifts from a polite smile to a nervous frown. But then she shifts again and looks normal, so I start to think I’m seeing things.
Harper is a take-no-nonsense type of girl. She’s usually the first to call someone out on things, so if she did see the text message, she’d say something. I’m sure.
That’s what I reminded myself as we boarded the plane, getting ready to spend the next week together, just the two of us.
§
Turns out, I do mind the middle. It’s been a while since I’ve flown, but I normally go for the aisle seat so I can lean sideways and stretch out my feet.
I’m not especially tall, but I’m not short.
I have to squeeze into the tight middle seat beside Harper, hoping no one comes to take the aisle seat.
The plane fills up as more and more people file in.
“Might have the row to ourselves,” Harper says. Every now and then Harper looks nervous, but I chalk it up to my guilt over my feelings.
We both look down the aisle as a man who looks like he could be a Viking comes down the aisle.
He’s huge enough that his head is just an inch or two from touching the top of the ceiling, and he has to walk down the aisle sideways to fit.
And because today is not my day, I know he’s coming for the empty seat beside me.
Harper giggles beside me, and I know she’s seeing the same thing I am.
“Oh please, no,” I whisper as Harper covers her mouth, almost losing her composure.
The man is staring at the labels on our row, and his eyes settle on our row. I can see the recognition in his eyes. He’s found his seat.
He makes a quick motion to put his duffle bag in the compartment above our heads. Harper shifts beside me, and I can tell she’s still trying to hide her laughter.
“Hey,” I say as he comes to sit beside me. He gives a friendly smile and sits. In his defense, he does his best to stick to his side of the seat, but his arm is three times the size of mine.
I scoot over as much as I can, leaning more into Harper than I usually would, but she’s too distracted trying to stifle her giggles to notice.
The guy doesn’t talk. Once he’s settled in next to me, he opens up his phone and doesn’t look up again.
Soon enough, everyone is seated and we’re taxiing across the tarmac. Harper is looking out the window, and I can see the grin she’s trying to mask, her body pushed up against the glass as she watches the plane move.
As we take off, Harper glances over at me, her face lighting up with excitement. Her chestnut hair is pulled back into a braid, leaving her face uncovered and beaming.
I’m happy to be going on the trip, of course, but to be honest, I’d go just about anywhere to see Harper this happy. Even with the huge Viking sitting next to me for the next five hours.