Page 8 of Midnight Sun
“Shut up,” Finn grouses. “If this were the doing of theHidden Peoplethen I’m not lucky, I’m cursed.”
“I won’t say that. Even I have to admit your guy is pretty.”
“Halldór,” Finn growls in warning.
His nameless stranger seems to recognize his voice, because as soon as Halldór’s name rolls from Finn's lips, his gaze snaps up and his pretty blue-green eyes bore into Finn’s over the rim of his sunglasses. Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“Your seat is at the window, Mister Arden,” the steward says. Finn doesn’t like the way he’s making heart-eyes at his stranger. He has neither right nor reason to feel jealous, but he can’t help sending the steward a stern gaze. Wait a minute–Arden?
His stranger’s eyes widen as he realizes that his seat is right next to Finn. He shoots him a withering glare that would’ve been intimidating if Finn’s brain weren’t set on finding everything the man says or does cute. He doesn’t even like arrogant guys, with one exception. This one.
“Is this a joke?” James Arden–it has to be him–says and pulls down his sunglasses to glare down his Roman nose.
“I suppose my sister wanted you to travel with the crew?” Halldór chimes in. Of course, he made the connection too and is now grinning like the cat that got the cream. Finn’s never going to hear the end of it.
“And who might your sister be?” James says, unimpressed.
“Hrafna Bjarnadóttir,” Finn answers in Halldór’s stead, partly because he wants to see James’ face when he realizes they’re acquainted with the director of his upcoming movie, and partly because he wants his attention back on him.
“You know Miss Bjarnadóttir?”
Finn laughs. “We’re on first-name terms in Iceland. Just call her Hrafna.” He slips out of his seat to let James through. James seems too stunned to protest any further and plops down into the window seat.
“So, you’re going to train with Finn before shooting starts,” Halldór says.
“Let’s not talk about shooting in public,” James counters haughtily. “It’s unprofessional.”
“Fine.” Halldór lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “Talk to Hrafna first. She surely has a strict training plan for you in mind.”
“That’s enough, Halldór,” Finn chastises. He turns to James. “Hrafna can be pretty intense, but you plan your training with me. Don’t let her pressure you into something just because she calls it method acting.”
“That's very considerate of you,” James replies as if Finn's mere existence were an imposition to him and pulls headphones out of his hand luggage. He puts them on, dismissing any further conversation.
Finn leans back in his seat and picks up his discarded book. Under any other circumstances, a person who behaves this condescendingly would piss him off. But all Finn feels is fond amusement. Weird.
The minutes tick by and Finn observes out of the corner of his eyes how James' head slowly sinks sideways. He can't resist shifting a little, so that James nestles comfortably against his shoulder. Finn cranes his neck to look down at his sleeping face. He looks vulnerable like this, exhausted.
Halldór touches his elbow and offers Finn a folded blanket. Finn fondly rolls his eyes but takes it. Halldór always travels equipped like a granny, but Finn tugs the blanket around James nonetheless. He sighs softly in his sleep, making Finn smile. He picks up his book and enjoys the warm press of James' body.
The turbulence starts just before their descent into Keflavík airport. Halldór wriggles his eyebrows.
“Here we go again.”
“And how is this my fault?” Finn defends. He's accustomed to much worse, anyway. The plane is shaken by yet another air pocket, and James startles from his sleep, apparently a little disoriented.
“We're already descending. We'll land in Keflavík soon.”
James makes a noncommittal sound and pushes the blanket back to Finn as if it had burned him.
“Did Hrafna put you up in a hotel in Reykjavík?” Finn asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
James looks at him as if he were daft. He’s good at it, Finn notices with amusement.
“What else was she supposed to do?” James’ tone is scathing, but it falls a little short due to his white-knuckled grip on the armrests as the plane is shaken by turbulence again. Finn doesn't comment on it.
“I’m staying at my sister’s. She owns a gym in Sólvallagata. You can start your training there or we can meet for lunch.”
“Let’s hear what Hrafna says first,” James says evasively. He seems to be uncomfortable with the whole situation, and Finn can't blame him. He's so used to the weird coincidences accompanying him wherever he goes, that he doesn't find them odd anymore. But to James, it certainly must feel this way. So he agrees, even though he can't shake off the irrational feeling that he shouldn't let James out of his sight.