When I wakeup, my forehead is pressed into the wall of the plane and my neck is in a position so uncomfortable I have to move carefully so it doesn’t hurt too much. As I sit up, I realizeLuke’s still leaning into me, but it’s not just his arms—his head is resting lightly on my shoulder.
I move as slowly as I can, trying not to wake him as I scoot away the tiniest bit.
The way he’s leaning isn’t outright romantic. His mouth is hanging open and his shoulders are hunched forward like he was trying not to fall asleep on me. I can’t help but feel like the moment is a little ... cute.
Not in the same way it would be cute if it were a boyfriend sitting here, but in the way you’d look at a sibling doing something and think they’re cute.
His dark hair is a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions, giving me the slight urge to reach out and fix it.
I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but facing the window feels too uncomfortable now, and shifting in any other direction leads me to Luke.
I stretch my arms out the tiniest bit, feeling stiff, but when I do, Luke stirs and lifts his head. His eyes are dazed when he looks at me and blinks a couple times before mumbling an apology.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” He tries to shift away, but it’s to no avail since the guy next to him takes up so much space. The man is huge, and reminds me of Thor, but instead of being blonde, his beard is brown and grows halfway down his chest. So perhaps he’s closer to Hagrid than the God of Thunder.
I lean forward to glance at Luke’s neighbor. He’s fast asleep, arms crossed over his chest and perfectly still. I’m thankful I don’t have to go to the bathroom, because there’s no way I’d be getting past this guy, and my instincts say that waking him upisn’t in my best interest.
“You have enough room?” I whisper.
Luke stretches as much as he can manage and shrugs.
I glance around the cabin, wondering if there’s a seat open that Luke can switch to, but when I poke my head up, it looks like every spot is taken. The cabin is dim, with most of the light coming from the few passengers watching a movie or reading.
“You mind if I lift this?” Luke pulls the arm rest between us halfway, looking to me for permission. It’s the one thing stopping me from curling into him and resting my head on his shoulder, but I look at Luke and how tired his eyes are, and I give him a nod.
He pulls it up and rests back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, mimicking the man next to him. With the armrest gone, our bodies touch from our thighs to our elbows. But Luke still tries to pull away from me as much as he can manage.
I pull my phone out to check the time. We’re only halfway through the trip.
“You want to switch?” I whisper.
He opens his eyes and gives me a confused stare. “What?”
I shrug. “I feel bad. I got the window for a couple hours. You can have it for the rest of the flight. At least then you can lean against the window.”
If I were his girlfriend, we wouldn’t have to worry about the window, because we’d just be able to curl into each other, and I wonder if that’s what he’s thinking right now. Maybe Wes’s text is going through his head and he’s asking himself if now, in the darkness of the plane, would be the best time to tell me how he feels. I wouldn’t be able to walk away from the conversation,that’s for sure. We’ve got the God of Thunder blocking us in, forcing us to confront our feelings.
That’s when it hits me that at any moment on this trip, Luke could bring up how he feels, and I’m not ready for that conversation. I wasn’t ready to read that text message, never mind confront the actual problem. I don’t feel that way about Luke. He’s my best friend. He has been for as long as I can remember, but if he opens that door, I can’t see us stepping back through it. Maybe we could be a happy couple, but what if it didn’t work out? We’d never be able to go back to being just friends after dating.
Everything would change, and I can’t handle losing him. I need this: a safe, comfortable friendship.
“It’s fine.” He shakes his head, and I give him a scowl.
“Just—” I pull his hand toward me. “Come here.”
I try to make him sit in my seat, but instead his body just comes that much closer to me. I moved out of instinct, rather than mindfulness of what our bodies would do. Luke’s face is only a couple of inches from mine, and even in the dim light, I can see the little flecks of blue in his hazel eyes.
Surprised at my own actions, I back away, pushing myself toward the windows, making even more of a spectacle of myself and hitting the back of my head on the wall.
“Ow,” I mutter.
“It’s fine, Harper.” He laughs quietly.
I frown, almost wishing that I could just curl into Luke in a way that would allow both of us to be comfortable on the plane, but doing so feels like crossing the line. Even before I had read the text, it would have been crossing the line. At least, I thinkit would have. Now the line feels more blurred than ever, and every move I make feels like the wrong one.
I don’t want to lead Luke on, especially if he plans on confronting me this week. I need him to know how I feel without actually saying how I feel. I don’t want to do things that encourage him and make him think that if he talks to me, that the two of uscouldbe a thing. It feels like the only option I have is to make sure everything I do is out of friendship. I have to re-draw the friendship line.
“It would just make me feel better if you had a chance to sit in the window seat.” And it would make me feel better if you didn’t accidentally fall asleep on my shoulder again.
