Page 18 of All the way home

Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Zach makes steadfast eye contact with his book instead of the man, hoping he won’t come and take the open seat right beside him.

And it’s like his brainwaves are extending out into the world. Like manifesting really works, or like the universe is determined to make up for being so shitty to him today, because the businessman’s shiny black shoes come to a stop halfway to him.

Zach’s sigh of relief lasts only until he realizes what stopped him.

A figure in teal sinks into the seat next to him.

What?

Staring at the smart brown leather shoes next to his own battered sneakers, Zach rubs his forehead.

He’s back.

It’s not just in his head—Kieran’s definitely back, sitting right next to him, every inch of him bizarrely at ease.

“The Glass Universe.” Kieran tilts his head to examine the cover. “Interesting read?”

Zach clears his throat.

He can do this. He can have a conversation.

“I don’t know yet,” he says. “I haven’t been able to get into it.”

“I can’t ever read in airports either.” Kieran lets out a sigh and tips his head back, eyes on the ceiling.

What is going on?

“You are . . . ” Zach starts, not quite sure where the sentence is going. “You’re . . . here again.”

“I am.”

Risking a peek over at Kieran, Zach debates asking the obvious question: Why?

He can’t be sure, but he thinks Kieran seems annoyed. Maybe with Zach, or maybe with the world. Probably with Zach. Somehow, though, he seems artfully annoyed. Poised. If Zach started wearing turtlenecks all the time, would he look like a Caravaggio portrait?

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kieran says, “but you look awful.”

Zach blinks.

It’s such a blunt statement that he can’t even find it in himself to be offended, especially when Kieran—who seems like he’s never looked awful in his life—turns that winning smile on him.

“Is there a right way I’m supposed to take that?”

“You look like you’re going to puke or pass out,” Kieran says, “which is why I came to bother you again.”

With a tight laugh, Zach lets his book fall into his lap and rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know that was protocol.”

“Well, if you’ve got the plague, now’s the time to warn me.”

At the words the plague, the woman next to Kieran frowns and shifts away, hand lifting as if to adjust a mask that isn’t there.

Kieran doesn’t seem to notice. “Otherwise I just meant, like . . . you seemed nervous.”

Apparently he’s way more transparent than he thought. “That obvious?”

Kieran shrugs. “My sister gets the same way before exams.”

“Exams are terrible,” Zach agrees, very aware that his palms are sweating again and probably the rest of him is too. Like flying alone wasn’t enough, like Seth wasn’t enough, like losing his carry-on and all of his Christmas presents wasn’t enough, now he has to deal with not puking within sight of this unnecessarily cute guy.