Luke glances over at Thor and back at me. “I’m only switching because you’re smaller than me and can probably fit in the middle seat better.”
He gets up, and I scoot forward to take his seat as he turns into mine and flops down. We switch seats, this time without me pulling him to me accidentally.
I shift back and forth between Luke and Thor, trying not to touch either of them. While I don’t want to send Luke the wrong message, I definitely don’t want to cuddle up to a stranger.
“You can lean into me if you want,” Luke says, settling into the seat and leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Peace washes over him. “I don’t bite,” he says with a soft grin, as if to break the tension.
I sink into my seat, allowing myself to lean into him, just a fraction. But I want to lean in closer, and I’m not sure how much of that is being tired, or how much of it is that I miss how simple things were before I knew how Luke felt.
Chapter 8
Luke
When the lights of the cabin turn on and everyone is stirring to prepare for landing, Harper sits up, apparently having spent most of the flight leaning forward, resting her head against the back of the chair.
It couldn’t have been comfortable, because when she opens her eyes, she grimaces. The hair that had been neatly braided back is now a mess, falling out around her face in frizzy tangles. I catch myself smiling at her, and she gives me a tired grin in return.
The entire flight, I had to stop myself from pulling the armrest up and wrapping my arms around Harper so the two of us could just lean into each other for sleep. And eventually the arm rest did get pulled up, but somehow when the tiny thing that was physically separating us was taken away, we managed to pull farther apart.
I didn’t intend to confront Harper the way Wes wanted me to, but I wondered if maybe I could just avoid all this mess. A tiny, hopeful part of me thought of how different things would be if she felt the same way. But judging by how hard she triedto put a gap of space between us, it would only end in a ruined friendship.
If Harper were even remotely interested in me, I’d like to think she’d at least put her head on my shoulder, but instead, when I leaned my head on her—which should be known, happened in my sleep—she couldn’t seem to get far enough away.
Which I get, I guess. I’m not her boyfriend. But Harper has always been very physical. Not just with me, but with all her friends. She’s the type of girl to hug someone every time she sees them, or hold your hand when she’s talking animatedly about something. Heck, when she has a drink or two, she becomes even more of a lovebug, hugging and hanging off people like she physically needs the affection to survive.
The plane ride felt off at best, but perhaps I’m being too paranoid because of Wes. Harper and I are best friends, but we’ve never gone on a trip like this, just the two of us. It’s uncharted territory.
With a soft thud, the plane lands, and everyone leans forward in unison as we touch down.
The PA comes on. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Reykjavik. Local time is 5:56 a.m.”
The announcement continues, but I don’t catch most of what it says, because my eyes are on Harper, who’s gone from fast asleep to wide awake in the span of a few minutes. It’s like someone has injected caffeine into her. She’s wide awake now.
“We’re in Iceland!” she squeals, leaning over me to look out the window.
§
It takes awhile for us to find a place to buy a SIM card for my phone and the correct rental car pickup. By the time we get all the suitcases loaded up into the car, it is 7:20 a.m. in Iceland, but our bodies think it’s 2:20 a.m. The couple of hours on the flight were definitely not enough sleep.
Though Harper was bouncing with excitement when we landed, the tasks of picking up luggage and the rental car are enough to kill her buzz. The lack of sleep is catching up with both of us, and I can tell she is forcing herself to keep her morale up even though she needs more rest.
“Where to first?” I ask, buckling up behind the steering wheel.
Originally Harper was going to drive, but after I remind her who has fewer speeding tickets, she lets me be written in as the driver for the rental car.
She rattles off the address of the hotel, her face in her phone. Then she frowns.
“What?” I ask.
“Check-in isn’t until one p.m.”
“That’s fine. We can just sightsee.” I’m hoping to cheer her up, but her response is just a faint smile that she’s putting on for my sake. I consider offering that we could just take a nap in the car, but I know nothing about this country, let alone finding a safe place to park long enough to sleep.
We drive into the city, hoping that we can at least find a place to eat breakfast. Reykjavik is the capital of Iceland. Unlike large cities at home, there are plenty of big buildings, but only a small handful of skyscrapers, not more than about twenty stories. They’re only in a small section of the city, tuckedaway. In fact, most of the buildings look old, the architecture worthy of admiration. We drive by a row of what looks like apartments, and each section of the building is painted a different bright color. The only truly tall building is a massive church with a steeple so tall, it seems to tower over the entire city. It’s apparently iconic, because when I Googled Reykjavik, the building popped up in most photos, with tourists posing in front of the pointed structure. Seeing it in person now, I can understand why. Everything else in the city seems small and tame in comparison to this massive structure.
The city feels old in the same way the city of Boston feels old. Like the cobblestone streets are the same streets from hundreds of years ago. But where Boston feels crowded and cramped, Reykjavik feels open and airy.
The city is hugged on every side by either ocean or glacier-topped mountains in the distance.
