Free In the Stars by Whitney Boyd Page B

waiting and had started a game with Josh.
    “Truth or dare,” I said. He had gone for dare. I told him to hold his breath for two minutes. (All right, kind of a lame dare, but I didn’t want us to get booted off our flight by security). He had done so, just barely, even though his face turned red and his eyes watered. We went back and forth for a few minutes, basically throwing the truth option aside and daring each other to do random things.
    After I sang “Twinkle, Twinkle” and received a lot of odd looks from people passing by, I had grown flushed. I went to the bathroom to splash a little water on my face and when I came back, Josh kind of reached for my hand.
    It wasn’t the act itself that was strange. We’ve held hands before, I’m sure we have. I’ve grabbed his arm and held his hand when it’s icy out and I’m wearing heels and stuff like that. I’m a bit of a touchy-feely girl and so it is natural for me to have physical contact with the people I am close to. It was more the way it happened.
    He reached toward me and I almost felt like he was my boyfriend. It was strange, like if I held his hand it would signal that we were dating, the way it did in junior high. I had jerked my hand away and kind of laughed it off, “Watch your hands, garcon, ” I joked and slapped it without intending to. But then his expression of guilt made it worse.
    I quickly changed the subject and a few minutes later we boarded the plane and nothing more was said of the incident. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. What was that?
    “Found it,” Josh proclaims proudly and I am jerked back to the present. “I knew I could get us here without asking anyone.” We are in the huge baggage claim area, a wide open space with a bit of a draft and those big carousels that rotate your luggage for you. There are lines of carts for people with too many bags and a sign pointing down the room farther for oversized luggage.
    “I would be proud except it didn’t take that many navigational skills. I mean, there are signs with little stick men holding suitcases every five feet,” I tease. See? The thing back at the Calgary airport is a non-issue. Totally forgotten by both of us.
    He laughs and I continue. “So what are we going to do after we check into the hotel?” I am itching to explore this place. Strange that I have backpacked with my family and friends through every inch of the Rockies, done road trips across Eastern Canada through Ontario and Quebec and even camped for a few weeks on Prince Edward Island, and yet have never made my way to the opposite side of the country where Vancouver Island lies.
    “Well, why don’t we get cleaned up and then hit the streets? I haven’t been here in years and would love to walk around all the silly tourist spots.” Josh is as big a nerd as I am.
    “Excellent.” My face splits into a smile and Josh puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes it tight while we wait for the carousel to spit out our luggage. A few of the other passengers from our flight gather nearby and a cute, elderly woman who we had spoken to briefly on the plane edges up to us.
    “Are you two sweethearts here for vacation or do you live here?” Her voice creaks and she adjusts the large, beige purse on her shoulder while she speaks.
    “Vacation,” Josh says and I bob my head politely in agreement. It’s more of a rescue mission for my sanity, but that wasn’t one of her options.
    The old lady nods enthusiastically. “Is it your honeymoon?” Her voice takes on a wistful tone. “My honeymoon was delightful; it’s something you will never forget. Although, since we are from here, we went to the Queen Charlotte Islands. You two are going to have such a wonderful time.” She beams at us and her wrinkled face glows with memories of happier times.
    My face heats up and I instinctively step out from under Josh’s arm, shaking my head, ready to tell her that no, no, absolutely no, we are just friends and that’s