Trust Fall // l.h

Chapter 4: The Encounter

Luke's POV

My knee bobbed up and down practically the whole flight.

Sure, the trip only lasted about an hour and fifteen minutes, but it didn't make me any less nervous.

In fact, the prospect of only having an hour before I would have to adjust to a whole new life with all new people in a brand new place scared the crap out of me.

I've never been very good at making friends. Besides my mum and Calum and obviously Lily I had never made any real relationships.

Some people might think that would make leaving easier; less people to say goodbye to, but no.

It took seventeen years for me to make two friends not including my mum.

Who would be willing to take seventeen years to get to know me now?

I'm not very interesting, or funny, or good at making small talk. I don't consider myself very good-looking or charming.

I've always said the only things I've got going for me are my bitter sarcasm and monstrous height.

Lily's two favorite qualities about me, she always said.

That and the way I bite my lip when I concentrate on something, whether it's reading, listening to a new album for the first time or making mud pies.

We were nothing more than best friends, but she always told me it was sexy and that one day a girl, THE girl, would see me gnawing on my lower lip and would simply not be able to control herself.

Lily...

I sighed and fought back tears. Luke stop. It's time to move on and stop torturing yourself.

And for what felt like the millionth time I thought to myself "It wasn't your fault. What happened to her wasn't your fault."

The idea of repeating this simple phrase to myself whenever she came to my mind came from my doctor, whom my mother made me visit before I left Sydney.

Don't get me wrong, his advice was good in theory. He showed me breathing exercises, which were meant to stop the panic attacks.

I have had at least five a day since the incident.

And he made me tell him everything until I was nothing, but a puddle of tears. After I shared the horrifying story to him was when he taught me to be my own support system and tell myself over and over that what happened was nothing more than a tragic accident.

I wish I could say it was working and that my doctor had discovered the key to escaping the tenacious grip of depression, but no matter how many times the words left my lips, the weight pressing down on my chest never let up.

He did prescribe some medication, which did seem to be working at least in lessening the frequency of panic attacks.

I popped two chalky pills in my mouth and took a swig of water to wash them down my throat just before the plane took off.

I hoped for the two strangers sitting beside me that they worked. I've never left Sydney before, let alone on a plane and I figured if a stressful situation could set one off then it would definitely be this one.

You know how before the plane takes off the flight attendants stand at the front of the plane and make their usual speech about oxygen masks, emergency exits and how to use your seat as a life raft?

And how that's also the time that ninety-nine percent of the passengers begin to get comfortable: leaning their seats back and adjusting those little neck pillows?