hella luke ▫ oneshots

Something Borrowed

My eyelids are getting heavier by the minute as I sit in one of the squeaky leather airport chairs at my gate. I’m making my way back home to New York, from my vacation in Vietnam. It’s my third layover today and my weariness level is through the roof. As I sip on a bad cup of coffee (it’s all bad at this point), I watch the people around me. Some are making phone calls to their families or bosses; and some are reading newspapers or magazines.

The gate attendant picks up the microphone and I hear a click as the intercom turns on.

“Hello respected passengers, this is a pre-boarding call for Flight 257 with service from Los Angeles to New York City: LaGuardia Airport. We are asking that any customers with little ones or requiring extra assistance to line up now. We’ll begin our general boarding starting with rows 16-28 in just 5 minutes. Thank you.” Click.

I organize my belongings and stand up, adjusting my cardigan. Using one of the twenty billion hair elastics I always have on my wrist, I pull my long dark hair up into a high ponytail as I yawn. This far into the journey, I don’t have any second thoughts about my appearance. I’m wearing a black tank top with my colorful Vietnamese elephant pants. They’re the most comfortable thing in the world. My black cardigan is keeping me cosy. Flinging my bucket-bag around my shoulder and grabbing my backpack, I start to walk over to the gate with my passport. I wait for a few minutes until they start letting people through for the General boarding call. The attendant scans my passport and ticket, smiles at me and wishes me a nice flight.

“Thanks.” I reply unenthusiastically. I’m half-dead.

I step onto the plane and work my way to the back, row 18. To my relief, I’ve got an aisle seat. I’m an aisle seat girl. I shove my backpack into the overhead compartment the wrong way, but I don’t even care anymore. Taking my seat, I let out a long sigh as I move around trying to get comfortable. There’s already someone in the window seat, an executive looking dude in his mid-50s it looked like. He was already fast asleep with earplugs inserted.

After fooling around with my TV for a few minutes, a tall boy carrying a guitar case made his way up the aisle. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought, who brings a guitar on a crowded trans-continental flight?

“I think this is me.” He stops right beside me and looks at the middle seat. Of course.

“Oh, right sorry.” I say and unclip my seatbelt before standing up, frazzled.

He fidgets with his guitar overhead, trying to get it to fit. After a few tries, he’s just barely got it in there. He gives me one of those pursed-lip-smiles and slides into his seat. I’m not giving up the aisle, no matter how tall he is.

He tries to make small talk for a short while before we take off. I’m waiting patiently for the seatbelt sign to come on so I can put my earbuds in and turn some music on.

“So where are you headed?” He asks.

“Brooklyn, that’s home.”

“Ah, why were you in LA?”

“Oh, it was just a layover. I just got back from Vietnam.” Here we go…I thought. Now I’d have to talk about my exotic trip.

“Hey, same.” He replies. “Not about Vietnam, about the layover. I just came from Australia.”

I could tell. His accent had given him away. At least he wasn’t pressing on about Vietnam.

“I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Kaleigh.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

“You too.” I say politely. The engines begin roaring as we stop on the edge of the runway. “Here we go.” I say.

The plane hurls itself at an ungodly speed down the runway as we’re flattened to our seats. In mere seconds, we’re up in the air heading towards the veil of clouds.

Luke is leaning forward, looking out Business-dude’s window. Business-dude is out cold, snoring. He faces forward again after a few moments, and taps on his screen repeatedly, becoming frustrated with the lack of reception to his fingers.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He suddenly blurts out. I’m taken aback and don’t know exactly how to deal with it.

“Uh- no. But- I’m…not looking right- right now.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He blushes. “I was just leading into asking you if I could borrow your shoulder for a nap. Don’t want to get beat up or anything. By your-“

“By my boyfriend.” I help him out.

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m awkward. It’s a disease.”

“You borrow mine, I’ll borrow yours?”

“Deal.” He grins and nestles his head into my shoulder. I lean over cautiously, and as soon as my head is resting on his, he chuckles a tiny bit and laces his arm with mine.