The Middle Seat
Going back home was supposed to be something you looked forward to, seeing your friends and family, and eating home-cooked food. Except, you have had the best time in London for a study abroad opportunity for school. For the past two months, you had learned so much, met lovely people, and had the time of your life. The last thing you wanted to do was leave.
Now, you were sitting in the airport, scrolling on your phone, trying to live vicariously through your photos, already nostalgic, waiting for your plane to board.
Once the minutes had too quickly passed by, you trudged reluctantly onto the plane, leaving behind the last of London. Scooting by people putting their luggage in the overhead compartment, you found your row printed from your ticket.
The middle seat, are you kidding me? you thought, irritated. You sighed and sat down, getting your things situated, sticking your carry-on bag underneath the seat in front of you.
“Tom’s a div,” you overheard someone say. “Getting first class and shit. Leaving us behind.” The voice grew louder as he approached you.
“Oh, shit,” another voice said, even closer. “I’m supposed to be on the other side.”
You sat upright after rummaging through your bag to find your sweatshirt and headphones. You looked at the two voices, who had continued to bicker, to find the two looking at you.
“Oh, sorry,” you apologized. “Are you the, uh, seats next to me?”
The two boys looked at their boarding pass and at the row sign, in unison. They were both quite adorable. One was taller than the other, had brown shaggy hair, and a freckled face. The other wore a hat that showed his red hair through and a sharp jawline. You continued to scan their features, trying to deduce if they were friends or brothers.
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” the brown haired one said with a smile. “I’ll go around. ‘S not a problem.”
The red haired one sat on your left, getting his bags adjusted: “I’m Harry, by the way. That’s my twin brother, Sam.”
Twins, you thought with a subtle smile. Nice.