19 | shit, he is so pretty

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There were three things that could take my mind off the anxious feelings that had been eating me alive on the plane.

Getting off that plane was a first. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as my feet touched the ground and not the cheap carpet and its unpleasant smell.

Nick's comments about my physical state–that included my pale face–were a second. Despite my pounding heart I still laughed with him, admitting I felt terrible. It felt worse at the landing, but I got slightly better when his fingers wrapped around mine and he offered me a reassuring smile.

The third one was the view of Matt and Julian standing next to each other at the doors of the airport, like two complete strangers. Both were wearing their sunglasses, either looking at their phone or looking around. The awkwardness of the situation made it even funnier, even if I'd told Julian to be nicer and at least apologise.

We walked straight to the conveyor belt as the bags started appearing. Nick was chatting with Evie while I waited for my suitcase, slowly moving toward me.

A part of me wished I'd stayed in Amsterdam with him. Maybe I could have asked someone at the hotel reception if they had another room - or two? - for a few more days, and perhaps he would have accepted. But there was the gig in two days, reminding me he had a real job and actual responsibilities. I knew I had to come back to reality and stop being so self-centred, and the thought just brought me to a new level of pathetic.

I reached down to grab the handle but another hand suddenly appeared and lifted it for me.

"Here, let me help," the voice said, familiar and gentle.

I turned around, coming face to face with Nick.

"Thank you."

He smiled in response and reached past me to grab his own, his body brushing lightly against mine. I watched him pull it off the belt effortlessly and we made our way where everyone was gathered next to the main entrance. We shared shy glances until we reached the others and eventually made our different ways.

Julian looked up his phone and noticed I was standing there, his face lighting up in the process. I left my heavy suitcase beside me, watching how healthy he looked. His hair looked shorter with the same curl falling over his forehead, but his cheeks looked less pale than they did a few weeks ago.

He quickly approached like he was going to hug me, but instead gave me a rather awkward embrace, laughing it off when I rose my eyebrows in surprise. After all these years, he still was incapable of hugging me properly.

"Why didn't you stay there?" he joked, pointing to the planes through the glass windows.

I rolled my eyes at him, the grin spreading on my face. "You would have loved that, wouldn't you?"

"You can't imagine."

I hit him lightly in the shoulder, chuckling. "Dickhead."

He picked up one of my bags, grinning down at me. "How was the flight?"

"I thought I was dying up there."

He looked at me for a second and snorted in a "whatever you say" way. "Okay drama queen. Ready to go?"

I nodded, glancing at the others. Well, Nick to be specific.

He was laughing with Matt, listening closely to what the other was saying. His hair looked a tone lighter in the bright light, and his dark blue jacket set off the colour of his eyes.

As if reading my thoughts, his eyes met mine and crinkled a little more. I used the moment to walk to them and internally collect myself.

"Welcome back," Matt greeted me with his famous smile, outstretching his arms.

On The Other Side | Nick O'MalleyWhere stories live. Discover now