This is a companion piece to the second round of my contest, which you can find here

I slowly pulled my earbuds out of my ear, my music falling silent as I gingerly paused it. I’d love to continue listening, but they were starting to board the plane and I couldn’t afford to miss my boarding group even by a minute. I shuddered thinking about how I’d had to push through impatient crowds to grab my luggage last time. Never again.

I waited impatiently as the people in front of me filtered onto the plane. I’d been at the airport for hours now, and I had no plans to stay here any longer than I had to. I drummed my fingers on the handle of my suitcase. If anything, I could at least look forward to returning to my music once I settled down on the plane.

My first semester in college had been hard on me, as it had been on everyone. I was glad to be finally heading home. Here, I had nothing but stress and deadlines; at home, a loving family, old friends, and a carefree existence. I closed my eyes briefly, imagining the sweet scent of warm pie drifting up from the kitchen.

After I’d successfully made it through the line and onto the plane, I slid happily into my seat. From here, it was a long flight back home, but at least I had plenty of stuff to do. I was looking forward to getting some time to work on non-school projects.

As I slid my earbuds back into my ears, I stared wistfully out of the window. The sun was already setting; it’d be late at night when I finally arrived back home.

I felt someone sit down next to me. I was never much of a talker anyway, so I hoped that the headphones would be enough to deter them from making any advances. I kept my eyes fixed firmly outside, tracing the vibrant clouds with my eyes. The sunset was pretty here; brilliant rays cast long shadows on the concrete.

“Looks nice outside, doesn’t it?” the woman next to me asked sweetly. Slightly annoyed, I sighed inaudibly before replying. “Yes, really lovely,” I said quietly, hoping my curtness would deter her.

“You know, I had a friend who would always comment on how pretty the sky looked. He always said that people didn’t look up enough.” My stomach sank when I heard her say that. I’d been avoiding it, telling myself that it was just my overactive imagination. From here, though, there was no turning back; I could recognize Ari’s voice anywhere.

“You’re talking about me, aren’t you?” I asked, pulling my headphones out. I looked over at her.

She hadn’t changed a single bit. Her warm brown eyes were as soft as ever, her features seemingly frozen in time despite the three years since we last saw each other. She chuckled slightly, nodding. “I guess I am talking about you,” she replied softly. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first,” she explained.

This was no surprise. In stark contrast to her unchanging visage, I’d practically become a different person entirely. The years in between had hardened my features, turned me sour and cold. I gave a small smile, hiding the strain in my voice. “How have you been?” I asked.

“Good,” she said quickly. “What are you doing here anyway?” she continued inquisitively.

“I go to school here,” I replied. It wasn’t exactly true; college was still a couple hours away by bus, but I always flew in here because it was the closest major airport. Nonetheless, to spare her the details, I left it at that. “What about you?” I countered.

“I’ve been visiting my boyfriend’s family,” she replied. “I’m flying back home for the holidays.” I nodded. I hadn’t known that her boyfriend was from here, but then again most of what I knew about him was based off a couple photos and some stories that a mutual friend had related to me.

We both fell silent. Deep down, I think both of us knew that we were pretending. Pretending that nothing happened, pretending that we were still friends, just like we said we would be. No amount of small talk could breach that barrier, that pretense of warmth. So we sat in silence.

Our ascent seemed to take an eternity. I watched the harbor disappear slowly beneath us as first we jetted inland, then rose above the clouds. As the last traces of land below slipped behind the thick, rolling clouds, I contented myself with closing my eyes and leaning my head back. Anything to distract me from the emptiness that was making my way into my chest.

I was relieved to hear the familiar ding and the message that followed, allowing me to use my laptop. Almost immediately, I reached into my bag and pulled it out, flipping it open and powering it on in one deft motion.

I’d been looking forward to returning to an old story that I’d been writing for a while. College life had sucked all the time I’d been used to for writing out of my schedule, so I relished this moment to finally return to my favorite pastime.

Reading over my old story was calming in a way. The words flowed over my heart like a flood, washing away the stress and anxiety that my incidental travel companion had instilled in me. For a brief moment, I was almost unaware of the troubles that sat to my left. That moment was short-lived; my nostalgia was interrupted by that same silky voice that I’d been dreading.

“So…” Ari started, hesitantly. “What are you studying?”

“Biology,” I said quietly.

“Just like you said you would,” she said almost inaudibly.

I smiled awkwardly. “Didn’t have much choice, did I?” I’d practically shoehorned myself into that subject since high school, and by the time I’d graduated there was pretty much no turning back.

She chuckled lightly at my remark, her laugh strangely distant and devoid of emotion. “What about you?” I asked in return.

“Chemical engineering,” she remarked. I nodded silently. Certainly, it wasn’t what I’d expected out of her, but time tends to change people. You should feel happy for her, I told myself. It was good that she’d finally settled on something; she’d spent a lot of time back in the day stressing out about what she’d do in the future.

Exhausted of our small talk options, we returned to silence. In our time apart, I’d grown more and more introverted, choosing most of the time to keep to myself when I wasn’t with the small group of friends I’d somehow gathered. From what I could tell, she’d gone the opposite way; though she seemed less than eager to talk to me, she’d opened up a lot since I last saw her.

Swiftly, I returned to my story. Even though it’d been forever since I’d last written, it took just a short glance at the last few pages of my story to remind me of where I was. A faint smile spread over my face as I began drumming my fingers on my keyboard contently. I slid my earbuds into my ear and plugged them into my computer, being careful to avoid letting her know that I wasn’t actually listening to anything at all. I just wanted the peace and quiet.

I secretly hoped she was looking over at what I was writing as my hands glided gracefully across my keyboard. It was petty of me, but I desperately wanted something to prove to her that I had some ace up my sleeve, the winning hand in an imaginary and ridiculous contest. In between paragraphs, I stole a quick glance at her through the reflection on my screen.

For an instant, we locked eyes.

It was evidence enough that she’d been looking at my screen; at the moment, however, I was more concerned that she’d seen me looking back at her. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought to myself. It would’ve been nearly impossible for her to be reading and see me at the same time.

Whatever the case, I shook myself out of my thoughts and returned to my work. We remained this way for what seemed like an eternity, me anxiously writing while she looked on.

Without warning, Ari spoke up again. “Hey Jules?” she asked quietly. A shiver ran through my spine. I hadn’t been called that in ages.

“What’s up?” I replied, quickly saving my work and turning toward her.

“Is that the story that you texted me about?” She trailed off at the end, almost as if unsure. Confused, I shook my head. “When did I…?”

“You know, you sent me that big long text about…you know…” she interrupted me, but quietly, like she was embarrassed to bring it up.

I chuckled nervously. I’d known what she was referring to the first time; it was a memory that I hoped to forget, so I figured pretending not to remember would deter her from pressing the point. Clearly, I underestimated her conviction. “I’m surprised you remember that,” I remarked, “but no, this wasn’t the one I was talking about.”

“Oh,” she said with disappointment, pursing her lips. “Can I read some of it anyway?” she asked hesitantly. I nodded, scrolling to the top of document and sliding my laptop over to her.

I watched her intently as she read, perhaps hoping to catch some sort of reaction, some expression. Feeling awkward, I finally looked away after what seemed like forever. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited eagerly for a response. To be honest, I wasn’t terribly concerned whether she liked my writing or not; if not anything else, I hoped this would maybe be a step toward rekindling the friendship we used to have.

With the anticipation finally getting to me, I stole a quick peek at her just as she had reached the end of the first chapter. The light cast by my laptop screen framed a look of intense concentration, as if she were holding every word in her mind and turning it over, analyzing it, before moving onto the next one.

It was hard to hate a look like that. As someone who’d been hard-pressed to find people to genuinely care about my work after what happened, this was a welcome change.

I leaned my head back on my headrest and closed my eyes. Perhaps she’d been right, that I’d been too hard on myself, that the experience changed me. On the other hand, though, I wasn’t blameless. I’d said some really stupid things, and when I really thought about it, I couldn’t help but imagine that things could’ve gone differently if I’d known what was going to happen.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my laptop being slid back onto my tray table. As I lifted my head up again, Ari looked at me expectantly.

“What’d you think?” I asked, pulling my computer back in front of me.

“It was really lovely,” she replied, “You should send it to me when you’re finished with it.”

I grinned slightly and shook my head. “I doubt it’ll ever be finished, more like I’ll decide to stop writing it.”

“Well you should send it to me anyway!” Ari said in an almost-cheery voice, clearly excited about the prospect.

It was gratifying to know that she liked my writing. Her praise had sounded so genuine, even if she hadn’t meant it that way. Not that I doubted the veracity of her words; I’d just been conditioned to be wary of her, a product of my pettiness and insecurity. In a way, it was also a surprise. For so long, my work had been greeted with half-assed nice works and good jobs, empty compliments given to me by friends who clearly didn’t give half a hoot about writing.

“What about that story that you texted me about? Do you still have it?” Ari asked. I nodded. “…can I read that?” she continued after an uneasy pause.

“I’m…not exactly proud of it, looking back,” I explained, “So no, I’d prefer you didn’t.” The disappointed look on her face told me all that I needed to know. “I’ll think about it,” I quickly amended, “maybe...maybe…I’ll send it to you.” She smiled in response, a warm, friendly smile.

While what I’d said about not being proud of the final product was true, it wasn’t the real reason I was hesitant to even open the document again, let alone send it to Ari of all people. I’d poured my soul into that story, all my pent-up angst, my emotions, my fantasies. The contents were deeply personal, a reflection of myself at my darkest time. Still, I wasn’t about to tell that to anyone.

We returned to an uneasy silence; perhaps it was the time apart that made conversation difficult, or perhaps it was a lingering awkwardness stemming from all that time ago. Fortunately, our relationship seemed to have improved since we last saw each other, even if it was just a façade that both of us were putting up.

As I wrote more, I became increasingly self-conscious. Ari sat next to me in complete silence, reading my work as I continued to write. More and more, I felt myself carefully picking my words, picking my sentences so that they would make me seem better at writing than I was.

“Jules?” Ari asked softly, as if trying to gently wake me from a writing-induced trance.

“Hm?” I replied, finishing my sentence and saving my work.

“...Are you still mad at me?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

I sighed. “I…well, I was never really mad at you in the first place. It…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to call it my fault; in many respects it wasn’t, and I knew better than to return to my self-deprecative mindset that caused so many issues back then. “…You just seemed less than happy to talk to me, and so avoided you so you wouldn’t have to,” I finished.

I immediately regretted saying that after it came out of my mouth. Stop being such a drama queen, I told myself. The last thing I wanted was more drama, and yet I was setting myself up so beautifully for it.

She shook her head. “Listen,” she started, “I’m sorry I was so harsh on you. I know it was really tough when Macki died and I guess because I didn’t know her, I just didn’t understand.”

I shook my head dismissively. “It’s fine…I was overreacting. There wasn’t much I could do and I just beat myself up unnecessarily thinking that something could’ve gone differently when in reality, it couldn’t’ve.”

“No, don’t say that,” she said, almost pleading with me.

Surprised by her sudden outburst, I quickly backtracked. “No no, I didn’t mean it like that,” I amended, “I’m just saying that it changed me in ways it shouldn’t have and it was my fault for letting that affect the people around me.”

Ari was silent. After a drawn-out sigh, she pursed her lips. “Why don’t we just put that all behind us?” she said. I nodded. It was rather sudden, but I had neither the energy or the patience to keep up the cold front I’d been putting up. True be told, I’d missed her a lot.

I turned my computer toward her, gesturing at the screen. “Want to read some more?” I asked. “I’m gonna take a quick nap, so you can if you want.”

She smiled as she pulled the laptop over to her table. “I think I will,” she said happily.

As a leaned my head back against the headrest, I snuck another quick glance at Ari. The same look of concentration had returned over her face, the light of my screen highlighting her features in the darkened cabin like a lighthouse in the night. How poetic, I thought to myself as my early start to the day and the long hours on the bus finally caught up to me.

I was woken by the shaking of the airplane as it made its final descent toward our destination. I looked around for my computer, almost panicking when I saw it wasn’t in front of Ari. “I put it back in your bag already,” she said when she noticed the expression on my face.

I nodded. I stretched as much as I could in the limited space that I had. “Hey,” Ari started as I settled back into my seat, “Where’d you learn to write like that?”

“It was Macki,” I replied. “She encouraged me to write more. I think I get a lot of it from her, even though it’s been a long time since, you know, I’ve looked at any of her stuff.”

“I think you get a lot of it from yourself,” she remarked thoughtfully. “You ever thought of that?” Try as I might, I couldn’t prevent a smile from spreading across my face. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my work,” I said quietly.

She nodded. “You deserve it,” she said as she stood up to get her luggage. It was almost saddening to be here so soon; I’d honestly enjoyed catching up with Ari, even if I’d been hesitant to speak with her at the start of the trip.

“Keep in touch, alright?” she said as we exited the gate.

I nodded. “I will,” I said, watching as she waved and turned to leave.