Do not look up.
Why when you hear those words—whether in your head or spoken—it's the first thing you do?
I had just said that to myself and the next second I was raising my head.
I prided myself on my self-control, but when it came to Lucas Finn, I seemed to forget I had any at all.
He was sitting exactly opposite of me with two rows between us, staring at me with a smirk I wanted to slap off his face. His legs out wide in front of him and arms crossed. His red headphones were pushed back slightly on one side so he could hear any announcements.
The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him looked out onto the tarmac. The cloudless blue sky was bright, almost too white bright, and my brain had started to register that I oddly hadn't seen a plane take off in quite a while. But Luke kept annoyingly distracting me.
Finn means "fair." The opposite of Lucas Finn with his tanned olive skin and brown that could be mistaken for black hair. Everything about him was dark—except for his light blue eyes.
I peeled my dark hazel eyes away from his and looked up at the screen behind the desk where DELAYED was displayed in the bottom right corner in bold red.
It had already been three hours. What was the problem? I crossed my legs and looked back at Luke. His elbows were now on his knees; his face in his phone. I couldn't see his expression.
Of course, he looked good in his nondescript off-white T-shirt with the breast pocket hanging slightly open like it was smirking at me. His gray jeans were tight but not too tight. His faded blue Adidas shoes were lightly tied. He reached a hand up and swept his bangs to the side.
The whispers and giggles of the younger college girls sitting next to me in their oversized Tufts T-shirts and gym shorts drew my head sideways.
Ten years later and nothing had changed. That first day Luke walked into my high school, you could hear the whispers he left in his wake. By the end of the week, he had friends in every group: the type of person that fit into every stereotypical high school clique like he never belonged in one over the other.
He may give off this mysterious tenebrous vibe, but when he opened his mouth, you realized his personality was the complete opposite of his first impression—he shined.
He was effortless. Always so damn effortless.
And somehow, here we were in the Boston airport on the same flight back home to Seattle. I saw him more than enough when we were both at Harvard, but it had been a year since we both graduated. I hadn't missed him at all (no matter how fun he was to look at).
I glanced back to DELAYED before it suddenly changed to CANCELED right before my eyes.
This was starting off... not well.
My fists clenched. My heart rate accelerated. I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes. I looked at the gray-haired lady who was buried in the old school phone hanging from the wall. Her back turned away from the front of the counter. A line of people had already formed. I watched her beady eyes glancing back, ignoring their questions. Her mouth was turned down in the corners, reminding me of a pug.
I slung my backpack over my shoulders and started marching to the desk. Eight more feet and I'd be at the front. Mid-step my body jerked back like a cartoon character.
"Relax, Reese!"
That deep laugh. It made me angrier. His voice was like syrup. Smooth, deep, sweet.
"I will not relax, Luke." I think my arms were what you would call flailing, but he had a tight grip on my waist. "Let me go."
"You look like a charging mouse."
"Buffalo."
"Okay." Luke spun me around. "A cute mouse," he added after seeing my twisted face. "I'm only saving you from yourself."
"Your charm isn't going to work on me. And I need to go home."
His eyes scanned the room. "I think everyone here has somewhere to be. And taking it out on that poor, decrepit, two-hundred-year-old woman isn't a good look."
I looked over my shoulder. He was right. She looked terrified.
"If I let you go will you take off the boxing gloves?" he asked when I looked back at him.
I stared and blinked. His grip relaxed, but his palms remained, testing me.
"Fine!" I huffed. I wanted his hands off my body.
He lowered himself into the nearest chair and patted the seat next to him, making a hollow thump, thump, thump. "Sit and let them work it out."
Never a care in the world for Luke.
"I have to be home for my brother's high school graduation next weekend," I told him.
"I have to be home for our five-year high school reunion." He patted the seat again, and one of his eyebrows hitched up. "You're not going?"
I'd forgotten that was even the same weekend. I had ignored every mass email from Avery Meyers. They wouldn't miss me.
"What do you think?" I said, sliding down into the seat.
"You haven't gotten any less uptight in adulthood," he chuckled and put his arm around the back of my seat.
"Don't test me right now. I'll take the perpetual stick I have up my ass out and hit you with it."
"And you haven't gotten any less feisty." He smiled at me when I looked up at him, blinding me with his white teeth.
I caught the girls down the row staring in jealousy. It was funny how Luke seemed so unaffected and modest to the constant female attention. He never came across as cocky, but there was no way he didn't know the effect he had on people.
"Were you even going to say hi to me?" It was amusement in his voice, not offense. I'd almost forgotten that he always thought it was hilarious that I hated him.
"I must have missed the hey you threw at me."
His fingers drummed across the back of seat. "You did. You looked down so quickly after you saw me that I mouthed hey to the top of your head."
A voice came over the loudspeaker. "We're sorry for the inconvenience, but all flights have been canceled indefinitely. Please refer to your airline's website for next steps."
Luke watched my face harden in fear and panic with the faintest smile on his.
"Indefinitely? What does that mean? I cannot miss my little brother's graduation," I whispered. My body started a slight tremor at the thought. I gripped the edge of my seat, trying to steady myself.
"There's a nationwide pilot strike," Luke replied like he'd known all along. "Expected to last two weeks."
Suddenly, I was very aware of the chaos surrounding me like Luke had waved his hand and unveiled that we were even sitting in an airport. It was mob mentality. People pushing past each other, people scurrying, suitcases dragging and knocking into stranger's. Frantic. No one was looking where they were going. No one cared who they were bumping into.
I read CANCELED on the screens of the three gates I could see across from us.
Oh my God.
This was supposed to be the start of the summer of me. And screw "not well," this was starting off fucking horrendously.
"How long does it take to drive home?" I asked Luke with wide eyes.
"Driving time? Probably two days—if you don't stop."
"Good seeing you." I stood so quickly I almost tripped over my own feet. I grabbed at my luggage, missing the handle the first time, and I was off.
"Reese!" he called behind me.
Do not look back.
That time I listened, but even if I had wanted to, it wouldn't have been possible once I stepped into the walkway. I became another electron bouncing around in pandemonium.
I had one mission: make it to the rental car desk before all the cars were gone. I bobbed and weaved through the throng, not even bothering to excuse myself. It was every man for himself—one of those rare moments when you think, screw everyone else.
The news was plastered across each television I passed. Each network had a slightly different headline: Pilot Strike Wreaks Havoc, Experts Say Strike Could Last Two Weeks, Pilots Strike Over Wages.
I stood impatiently behind a woman with two children on the escalator. Her two-year-old little boy kept blowing raspberries at me over her shoulder as she held him on her hip. Even though he looked pissed, I smiled. There's something about cranky children that is just so damn cute.
But I really didn't have time for that. Move, lady, I kept thinking as we rode the longest and slowest escalator in human history, but timeliness wasn't in the cards for me. I tapped my fingers against the black rubber handrails, warm under my hand, as it slowly churned.
My phone dinged, and I pulled it out to see Luke's name.
Is this still your number?
As far as he would know, no. I wouldn't see him again for another year. Hopefully two.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket, and after practically tripping over the woman's older child, I shot past them when they finally stepped off. When I rounded the corner, my heart sank. Along the far end of the corridor were five empty rental car desks. All of that for nothing.
I could read the signs even though I was a football field away. Five of them propped up on the counters; white rectangle plaques with bold black lettering.
NO CARS AVAILABLE.
One sign would have been sufficient, but no, they had to line up five to shove it down my throat.
I abruptly stopped and looked to my left through the sliding glass doors.
Boston. 2,500 miles away from where I wanted to be. No, needed to be.
I sighed as I walked out to the sidewalk; tears welling in my eyes as I thought about my options. My ancient car held together with duct tape would never make it. Could I take busses the entire way? No taxi would ever take me. Would a private car service? The thought made me angrier. I didn't have the money for that.
I stared at my phone. A tear hit my screen and splattered. How could I tell Colin that I was going to miss his graduation ceremony?
I pushed the handle down into my luggage and sat on top of it. Trains were still a thing, right? Honestly, I had to google it.
I stared at my blurry phone for ten minutes. I couldn't read it through my tears.
"Reese!"
I looked up to see Luke parked in front of me, bending over his passenger seat and manually rolling the window down.
My eyes glossed over his car. Truck? SUV? It was old—1970s maybe—but it looked brand new. It was a beautiful deep matte navy with a brown soft top. Next to a small red square with a horse, I read Bronco in chrome on the side before I looked back at him.
"Road trip?" he said with a smile.
"No way." The thought of sitting two feet from Luke for forty-eight hours made me want to scratch my eyes out.
His smile dropped. "Are you crying?"
I wiped my tears off my face and shook my head quickly. How embarrassing—I needed to go bury my face in the sand.
"You hate me more than you want to see your brother graduate?" he asked.
I stared at the concrete between my feet, silently contemplating the question.
I could feel the hate-burn spreading. All I could picture was the piece of paper Avery slid across my desk one day as she sat down in front of me in algebra class our freshman year.
Maybe I shouldn't have cared anymore. Maybe I made a bigger deal about it than I should have. But even when you think sometimes you've moved on from high school, your feelings can come rushing back like no days have passed at all. Thoughts can just randomly hit you out of nowhere—which would happen occasionally—but now he was there with me for the first time in over a year. And I didn't care if I was being stupid. Some things just stick to you. Even if it was silly high school drama, that shit could still hurt.
So now in my mind, I was back at my ninth grade desk looking up into Avery's perfectly eye-lined green eyes beneath her beautiful strawberry blonde bangs and asking her, "What is this?"
I was skeptical as to why she was even interacting with me. We hadn't been friends in years, and she never sat by me in any of our classes anymore.
"A game," she replied as she shook the paper a little underneath my face.
I rolled my eyes at her and looked down at it. My eyes got wider with each new word I read in boy-scratch handwriting:
Can Reese Adler Be Fun Again?
10 points - Get her to go to a party
15 points - Dance with her at any party or school dance
15 points - Take her on a date
"My virginity is worth fifty points?!" I whispered.
"I thought you should know," she said, her voice dripping with sympathy. "Luke was passing them out to some guys the other day by his locker."
My heart sliced in two like Avery had used the piece of paper to give me the world's biggest paper cut. I looked up into Avery's eyes that were looking pathetically (and a little happily) back at me. Luke had asked me if I wanted to go to Avery's Halloween party that next Friday only a few days earlier. I had been excited actually thinking he might have liked me. He'd made me come a little alive in the few months he'd been at my school. I'd already begged my dad to take off work so I could go.
My eyebrows furrowed as I relived it for the millionth time and looked at Luke through his open car window. My first thought to his question was, Yes, probably, so I said it out loud.
"I've circled three times looking for you." He laughed. "Get in the car."
I wasn't laughing. "I'll take my chances with the train."
"Alone on a train for three days. So fun!" Luke remarked sarcastically.
I made a face at him.
"I promise I'm more fun than that." He raised his eyebrows at me. "You know you can have fun sometimes, right?"
A challenge—trying to provoke me. It wasn't a secret in high school that I was boring—hence the list—but I wasn't lucky enough to get to experience high school in a typical way. His words swirled in my head mixing anger and regret together.
"I know I can, but I don't want to have fun with you." Finally able to see my phone screen, I typed in Boston to Seattle on Amtrak's website.
"Please?" Luke tried again. His smile looked so genuine. I didn't know how he managed it. "Have you ever been on a road trip?"
No, I thought before I started questioning myself on why I hadn't. I looked down at my phone when the ticket prices loaded.
Coach - SOLD OUT
Business - SOLD OUT
Rooms - $2,833
Fuck.
I barked out a laugh. Hell must have frozen over because I was about to embark on a cross-country road trip with Lucas Finn.
I stood slowly, and the corners of Luke's lips pulled up, pleased with himself. He exited the car and opened the trunk that had a huge tire attached to the back. He silently took my luggage and backpack from me, placing them in the back. I heard the trunk close with a clunk.
"You're lucky I can't afford crap," I called over the car at him. "Otherwise, I'd be on a three-thousand-dollar train ride home."
I didn't think he responded. Maybe he didn't hear me. He was eyeing me through the car windows though.
My fingers wrapped around the cold silver metal handle, and I pressed the button to unlatch the car door firmly with my thumb. I felt the kick when it clicked, and the door started to open. I ran my left hand over the dark blue paint as I hopped up into the chocolate brown leather seat. This car was nothing short of beautiful. The inside almost made me catch a breath.
Luke got back in and situated himself in front of a glossed wooden steering wheel. On the dash between us were small black knobs for the air conditioning with chrome vents. This car must have cost more than a year at Harvard.
"Present from Daddy?" I guessed. It may have sounded meaner than I intended, but come on.
"What else should I spend his neurosurgeon money on?" Luke mused. "But actually, no. I restored it myself with my uncle. A check on my bucket list."
He rubbed the black dashboard like he was proud of himself. He should have been if he actually built it, but I wasn't going to tell him that. Then he placed his hand around the manual transmission in between us.
"Oh, I'm not going to be able to help you drive. I don't know how to drive a stick shift," I told him.
"I didn't invite you to drive with me so I'd have someone to share the responsibility."
With that he shifted gears, making my stomach turn inside out unexpectedly as I watched his arm muscles move, and we pulled out into traffic.
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