Love Has a Color

Homeward Bound

I slowly peel my eyes open, fighting the urge to sleep for a few hours more. I groan to myself, noticing that Asher is still sound asleep, figuring I woke up before my alarm again. What does a girl have to do to sleep a full eight hours?

I groggily roll over to face the window, suddenly being accosted by the beams of sunlight peaking through the blinds. There is no way it should be this bright right now. We have to be up by six if we want to have time to eat and shower before our flight, so it must be earlier than that.

Through squinted eyes I roll over slightly, patting randomly around the bed to find my phone. I finally find it, checking to see how much earlier I got up before the alarm. I click the button, cringing at the brightness and urgently trying to turn it down. I blink the sleep from my eyes and flick over the time. 7:45. I nod to myself, then drop the phone and snuggle back into my pillows.

About twenty seconds later, reality sets in and I shoot up, phone in hand. 7:46. Oh, shit! I unlock the phone, scrolling through until I see that my alarm was set for six P.M., not A.M. Of course! Rookie mistake, Indigo!

I quickly roll out of bed, getting my ankle caught in the sheets and just flopping to the floor. Asher grumbles at the sudden bang, but just rolls over instead of getting up to check the source of the sound. "Ash!" I exclaim. Nothing. I pull myself up, using the edge of his bed, and tap his shoulder. "Asher!" Still, nothing. Who the hell sleeps this heavily? "Asher, we're running late, come on," I say, still tapping his shoulder. Now, I am forced to resort to something aggressive.

I rip the pillow out from under his head, then promptly smack him with it. He grabs the one next to him, shielding his head from another attack, and apparently the sounds and light and just the world in general. "Scarlettttt," he whines, his complaints muffled by the pillow. "The alarm hasn't even gone off!" I reach forward and steal the second pillow from him, sticking my phone in front of his face. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, before he too jumps up. "Our flight leaves at nine!"

"Really? We should get moving, then!" I say before running to the bathroom to gather the rest of my things. Needless to say, breakfast will be skipped this fine morning.

- - - - - -

After sprinting to our terminal, we made it just in time to board. I huff as I drop into my seat, closing my eyes as the relief washes over me. "You know, for someone who's late all the time you're very flustered about it," Asher notes.

I open one eye at him, making sure he can see the distain in my expression. He just laughs, ruffling my already disheveled hair. "Compared to you I'm early to everything," I grumble, then pull my hair haphazardly behind my ears. "How are you so calm? We were literally two minutes away from the gates being closed on us. I feel like we just ran a marathon." Which, we kind of did. I lift my ankle onto my leg, so I can rub my sore foot. I picked the worst day to wear these shoes.

He takes his seat next to me, just casually shrugging his shoulders in response. "Actually, I think the flight here was the first time I've been to the airport on time. I usually board at the last possible second."

"Are you serious? Asher, this is like, the one thing you should actually be early for. Or, at least on time. How do you not miss every flight you book?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but I hate flying. I like to delay it as long as possible. I prefer not sitting in this deathtrap any longer than I have to. And, no, I've never missed a flight. I've gotten good at timing it."

"Wait...did you do this on purpose? Did you intentionally make us late?" I knew I set that alarm right!

"Oh no," he shakes his head, pausing to chuckle. "That was all you Indigo. It's okay, alarms are hard to figure out," he says, in the most condescending tone I've ever heard. Then, he adds a little wink and a smirk at the end.

"At least I'm not afraid of planes." Low blow, but, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

He turns back to me with a gasp, his jaw dropped. "Planes are a completely reasonable thing to fear. Now, sharks, are a different story."

It's my turn to look offended. "Sharks are way scarier than planes! Sharks kill people!"

"So do planes."

I take a small breath as if preparing to speak, but my brain blanks. What do I say to that? "Ass." That will suffice.

Asher just laughs and gets comfortable in his seat. Or, as comfortable as one can get sitting on an aircraft that they're certain will kill them. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. For a moment, he seems relaxed. Then, the announcements about take off and safety and videos of seatbelt and emergency procedures start happening. I ponder whether I should hold his hand. Not like it would stop the plane from crashing, but it did seem to calm him down on the way here.

I don't know if it would be the best idea, though. I mean, we did talk this weekend. And there was that kiss...but, now I feel like we're in a gray area. How often do you kiss someone, or hold their hand or sleep on their shoulder, or argue about everything under the sun, all before your first date? Like, at this point, what do we call each other? I hate to sound like a middle schooler, but...what are we? I keep my hands in my lap, lightly flexing my fingers indecisively trying to reach out to him, then changing my mind. Okay, I'm being stupid right now.

Just as I muster up the balls to do it, Asher reaches a hand out before I make a move. Oh, well, that was easy. I automatically feel more relaxed with my hand in his, and settle down into my seat. As the plane ascends, I lay my head onto Asher's shoulder and feel him un-tense a little as well.

The flight is nearly over, in what feels like mere minutes, and I'm beginning to feel restless. I decide to finish a book I bought a while ago on my phone, and slip out of Asher's grasp to dig through my bag for it. I get comfortable on his shoulder once again, and open the app containing my book. Not even a page in, it hits me. I haven't looked at my phone since I called Sawyer. A few seconds for the time here or there, sure, but I haven't really looked at it. Not really since even before the convention.

I know, it doesn't really seem like that big of a deal. It's just a phone, and I didn't need to be on it when the person I most want to talk to has been with me. But, Violet hasn't been with me. Violet has been at home, in New York, without me and with her phone. Oh, God. I'm afraid to turn off airplane mode and check my messages.

"What are you reading?" Asher's voice interrupts the thousands of threats Violet probably sent that are running through my head.

"I forgot to text Violet today," I whisper. "And, yesterday."

"Oh, that will not be good for you," he informs.

"You either."

"Why me? She's your friend."

"And I'm telling her that you told me to mute her. I mean, you were the one distracting me. If I'm going down, you're coming down with me."

He gasps, placing his hand over his chest. "No! She's terrifying, I cannot get on her bad side," he pleads.

I roll my eyes at him, and shove him a little with my shoulder. "You're so dramatic."

"That's kind of funny coming from the drama queen."

Now it's my turn to gasp theatrically. "Shut it. Go back to sleep." I turn so my back is against his arm, and curl up comfortably, phone in hand, in order to actually read my book. Asher chuckles and closes his eyes for the rest of the flight.

I don't actually get any reading done. I can't stop thinking about what I'm going to tell Violet about this weekend. She's going to be so pissed off. Asher's right, she's terrifying. And he's right about another thing; I am dramatic.