Free The Trouble with Flying by Rachel Morgan Page A

profile picture next to each name. Not him … not him … not him … not him … Is that … ? My heart does an uncomfortable double beat thing and a tiny squeal escapes my throat as I recognise the fifth Aiden Harrison.
    It’s him! I’ve found him!
    Okay. Breathe. Calm down. I push my wheeled chair away from the desk and pat out a random rhythm across my knees. What am I doing? Am I going to send him a friend request? And then what? What if he accepts? What if he doesn’t? What if he’s not using his phone or a computer or anything while he’s on holiday and he only sees the friend request when he gets home and doesn’t even remember who I am?
    But he is using his phone , I remind myself. I remember returning to the Häagen-Dazs table in Dubai airport with two cups of ice cream in my hands and seeing him frown at it as though he didn’t like what he saw there.
    Okay, one step at a time. I reach for the edge of the desk and pull myself back towards it. I’ll check out his profile—whatever I can see without actually being his friend—and then decide. Ignoring the fact this probably makes me an instant stalker, I click on his name.
    Once his page has loaded, I can see his profile picture in more detail. He’s smiling and looking at something outside the frame of the photo, and in the background colourful houses sprout from a mountainside that ends with a sheer drop into a blue, blue sea. Scrolling down his page reveals the photos he’s used as profile pictures in the past—some group shots, a few arbitrary pictures that don’t include him at all, and several with his arm around a pretty dark-haired girl. The most recent photo with her is dated eight months ago, though, so I’m hoping that means he isn’t with her anymore. Not that I have any right to hope for things like that, considering I still have a boyfriend.
    I scroll back up to the top of the page and stare at the ‘Add Friend’ button. I move my mouse over it but don’t click it. I try to figure out what I want from Aiden. It can’t be more than friendship, of course, since he’ll be returning to England soon—and there’s Matt. A guy I want to be with. Because people don’t just throw away two-year relationships for random guys they met on a plane and think they had some connection with. So … I’ll click the button, wait for him to accept the friendship request, then tell him that even though I really enjoyed the kiss, I actually have a boyfriend and—no, wait, I won’t tell him I enjoyed the kiss. I’ll just say that I have a boyfriend, but I’d like to still be friends with Aiden. Because I enjoyed chatting to him. And it felt like we connected on some level. Or whatever. I’ll figure it out when he responds.
    I tap my finger absently on the edge of my laptop and continue staring at the button. I stare at it for so long that I don’t realise how much time has passed until the gate buzzer sounds and Sophie shouts, “Matt’s here!”
    My head jerks towards the open doorway of my bedroom, as if Matt might already be standing there watching what I’m doing. I turn back to the screen and the ‘Add Friend’ button. I clench my fists over the keyboard.
    Come on, just make a decision. Make a decision.
    I hit the button, then jump up and back away from the computer as if it might bite me.
    “Hey, Soph,” Matt says from the entrance hall. “How’s it going?”
    I dart forward and slam the lid of my laptop shut.
    It’s done. Stop thinking about it now. Finish packing your bag.
    Matt appears in my doorway just as I shove all three bikinis into my suitcase. I’m normally a much neater packer, but I don’t exactly have time right now. “Hey,” Matt says. He crosses the room and gives me a quick hug and a kiss. “You almost ready?”
    “Yeah, just give me a few more minutes.” I grab a book from my bedside table and slide it carefully into the top pocket of my suitcase. I might be happy shoving certain things into my bag, but