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Andrew
“Cleared for visual, runway 62 right.”
“Roger that.”
Dylan’s voice is deep and smooth. I watch his neck crane over and look out the window at the runway approaching. He looks good in his uniform.
This week feels like a month. I’m so glad it’s almost over because even though this is only my second flight with Dylan this week, it’s just as awkward as the last. The only time I hear any voices are commands from the Airway Traffic Control and Dylan returning communication.
It’s nothing like our flights used to be. Full of laughs and stupid jokes, casually discussing everything under the sun. We’ve even been known to cloud gaze, once our automated flight systems kick in.
I look over.
Dylan's hands are strong, holding the planes stick. It’s amazing getting to work with him. He flies like the plane is an extension of himself, and he’s so intuitive to anything going right or wrong. He was born to be a pilot.
“They usually have us on runway 62.”
It almost hurts to talk from not using my voice for so long.
“Hmm.”
“Cali 989, you are cleared for ILS runway 62 right.”
My gut has me second guessing everything right now, which is too damn dangerous in this profession.
I want to say to him, ‘Do you think ATC made a mistake? Should we land on runway 62 instead of 62 right?’
When I look over, he’s already making his moves. I know he’d only tell me that I need to listen to ATC. They know what they’re doing and that it’s more dangerous to go against their instructions than anything else, but I still want to talk to him.
Finally, we land and are ready to deplane. Dylan and I are waiting for the passengers in total silence. I can practically hear my hair growing. I’m sick of it.
Are we just supposed to do this forever? I can’t keep living in this confused state. I don’t know what we are anymore. Are we just friends? Are we more? Do I like him, romantically? What about Hazel? We haven’t even come close to talking about her.
I clear my throat. That catches Dylan’s attention.
“I don’t want to keep doing this.”
He nods at me. This is the first time we’ve looked each other in the eyes in a week. I really missed his gaze.
“Can the three of us go out and talk about it?”
Again, Dylan nods. We send our texts in our threesome chat and agree to meet later that evening.
Hazel looks amazing, as usual. She’s practically glowing. Her eyes squint a little as she smiles. Her long blonde hair is pulled into a loose braid and some pieces are falling out. I want to grab her face and press my lips to hers and never let go, but we need to figure out what is going on first.
The fairy lights above are all we need on the rooftop restaurant because the stars are so bright on their own. The view is amazing from down here but it's even more amazing up there. I look up and see a plane fly overhead.
“Hey.”
Dylan’s dark green shirt hugs him just right. It’s unbuttoned enough to see his collar bone, but not enough to see his chest.
“Hi,” Hazel and I speak in tandem.
“Before any more awkwardness happens, I need to get this off my chest.”
I inhale deeply because I don’t even know what I’m about to say. I haven’t exactly planned this out.
“I’ve been… I don’t know… struggling since the last time we were together.”
