Blake Hart
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Walking the Line - Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 14:00:14 +0000 UTCEveryone in this story is 18+
The airport buzzed with activity as my parents and I made our way through the terminal. We were there early—unsurprisingly. My parents were always punctual, the kind of people who insisted on arriving ahead of time, even if it meant sitting around with nothing to do. I trailed behind them, dragging my carry-on and trying not to think about what the next few hours would bring.
“I bet the Morgan family won’t even show up until the last minute,” my mom said, glancing at her watch. “You remember how they were in college, right?”
My dad chuckled. “Oh, I remember. Eric was the king of oversleeping. He once missed an entire exam because he thought it was scheduled for the next day.”
“And his mom had to bail him out with the professor,” my mom added with a laugh. “Honestly, it’s a miracle they’re as functional as they are now.”
I half-listened, my eyes scanning the terminal. My stomach churned at the thought of seeing Walker again. How was I supposed to act normal around him when the memory of New Year’s still lingered so vividly?
“I hope you’re not still afraid of heights, Evan,” my mom teased, nudging me lightly.
“N-no,” I said quickly, swallowing hard.
My dad grinned. “Good, because I made sure you and Walker are sitting together. I paid extra to reserve those seats. You two always get along so well.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to hide my discomfort. How was I supposed to sit next to him for hours on a cramped airplane? There was no way I could tell them I didn’t want to sit with him. They’d ask why, and there was no version of the truth I could give them without spiraling into disaster.
Before I could stew in my thoughts any longer, I heard a familiar voice across the terminal.
“Hey! There you guys are it's the Thompson fam!”
I turned to see Walker and his family approaching, looking completely at ease as usual. Walker carried his bag slung casually over one shoulder, his sun-kissed hair almost catching the light, and his trademark grin firmly in place. His parents followed behind, chatting amiably, clearly in no rush at all.
My stomach tightened as he caught my eye, his smile broadening as if nothing had happened. And just like that, the tension I’d been holding onto all morning tightened another notch.
Without missing a beat, Walker held out his hand for our usual handshake.
The secret handshake. Muscle memory kicked in before I could think. Slap, clasp, twist, and fist bump. It was so automatic, so ingrained in us, that my body acted while my brain screamed Why are we doing this?
Walker’s grin widened as we finished, throwing in the mock explosion at the end like always. “Still got it,” he said, elbowing me lightly.
“Yeah,” I muttered, glancing away..
Walker didn’t miss a beat. “Travel jitters?” he asked, his tone playful but low enough that only I could hear. “Or is this about—”
“Don’t,” I hissed under my breath, cutting him off before he could finish.
His grin faltered for a split second before he recovered. “Whatever you say, Evan,” he shrugged.
Before I could respond, our families started moving toward the security line. Walker fell into step beside me, chatting with my parents like nothing had changed. I walked stiffly, every word he said grinding against my nerves.
The line moved quickly, and before long, we were at the gate. I settled into a chair farthest from Walker, pretending to scroll on my phone. My parents were oblivious, chatting with his about the resort and activities planned for the trip. Walker lounged a few seats away, flipping through something on his own phone, as though we weren’t in the middle of this… whatever it was.
“Boarding in five minutes!” someone from the gate announced, and I swallowed hard. Walker glanced over at me, his green eyes meeting mine for a second before he smirked and looked away.
This is going to be a long flight.
---
The airplane cabin hummed with activity as passengers settled into their seats. I stuffed my carry-on into the overhead compartment and dropped into my seat by the window. Walker slid in next to me, his usual grin plastered across his face.
He stretched out, casually buckling his seatbelt. "Hey," he said, leaning closer with a grin, "I swear I didn’t take any blue pill today."
I didn’t even look at him. I pulled out my headphones, shoved them in my ears, and turned to the window. The pre-downloaded episodes of some Netflix series I barely cared about suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than Walker’s attempts at humor.
The engines roared to life, and the plane began its taxi. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Walker glance at me. "Still scared of planes?"
I shook my head and rolled my eyes, but my fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. "I’m fine," I muttered, though the lie felt heavy in my chest.
Walker didn’t press, but I could feel his amused smirk even as I turned my focus back to the screen. The plane took off, and for a while, I managed to calm down. The steady hum of the engines and the distraction of the show lulled me into a tentative sense of ease.
That was, until the turbulence hit.
It wasn’t anything major—just a few bumps and jolts—but it was enough to send a wave of panic coursing through me. My breath quickened, and my hands instinctively gripped the armrests.
Walker noticed immediately. "Hey," he said softly, his tone suddenly serious. He reached over and grabbed my hand, his grip firm and grounding.
I didn’t pull away. In fact, I found myself gripping his hand tighter, the warmth of his palm anchoring me in the moment.
"Don’t worry," Walker said, his voice low and steady. "I’ve got you, Evs. I’m here."
The nickname hit me like a small shock, stirring memories of when we were kids and everything had felt so much simpler. But I pushed the thought away. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I just needed comforting, and Walker happened to be the only one beside me. That was all it was.
I nodded slightly, my throat too tight to speak, and focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing. Eventually, the turbulence passed, and the cabin returned to its usual hum. I let go of his hand as casually as I could, pretending not to notice the way mine lingered just a moment too long.
Comments
Jules
Mile high club, anyone? 😂
Brendan Gavin
Loving this
