Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card (Jessie and Luke)

SURVIVORS

JESS

The room was too warm, the air heavy despite the gentle hum of the overhead fan. I sat with my hands folded tightly in my lap, the fabric of my dress sticking to my skin as I shifted

uncomfortably in the plastic chair. Laura was beside me, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair-

a habit she'd picked up over the last few weeks. Across the room, scattered in a loose circle, sat a few other women, each with the same mix of anxiety and exhaustion carved into their faces. The wives. The girlfriends. The ones left behind.

No one spoke, and the tension crackled like static in the air. Even Laura, usually the first to fill silences with her sarcastic humor, remained unusually quiet.

The Indonesian police had been brutal, to say the least-disorganized, dismissive, and maddeningly slow to respond. It had taken weeks for the U.S. embassy to finally get involved, weeks of speculation, rumors, and tabloids playing guessing games with our lives. And now, after all that, here we were.

Waiting.

The representative sent by the embassy stood at the front of the room, a man in his fifties with graying hair and a suit that looked out of place against the backdrop of the humid, coastal

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air outside. He held a folder in his hand, its edges frayed like it had been passed around too many times.

He cleared his throat, a dry, raspy sound that drew everyone's attention.

The room seemed to shrink as we all leaned forward, the tension thick enough to choke on

"As many of you know," he began, his voice slow and deliberate, "the search and rescue efforts following the crash of Flight 142 have been ongoing for more than 5 months to get everyone their loved ones back. We all want closure. The Indonesian police have faced signif I bit down on the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. We didn't need a recap of what we already knew. We needed answers.

Laura shifted beside me, her knee bumping against mine. I glanced at her, catching the faint shake of her head.

Not yet.

The man droned on, his words a dull hum in the background as my mind raced. There had been leaks over the last few days-whispers of survivors, names dropped in passing, fragments of hope that felt more like traps. None of those names had been Luke or Josh.

I had tried not to think about it, tried to push down the knot of dread that tightened in my chest every time the phone rang or the news played. Hope felt like a dangerous thing, too fragile to hold onto and too painful to lose)

"So, I brought all of you here today," the man continued, "to put an end to the rumors and speculation. After lengthy

negotiations, the Indonesian police have agreed to release the names provided by the survivors

Survivors.

The word hung in the air, sharp and heavy.

I felt Laura's hand brush against mine, her fingers curling around mine in a tight grip. I didn't look at her, couldn't. My eyes stayed fixed on the man at the front of the room, his folder trembling slightly as he opened it.

He paused, flipping through the pages inside with infuriating slowness. Every second felt like an eternity, the pounding of my heartbeat drowning out every other sound. "Before I begin," he said, looking up briefly, "I want to remind you all that this is a preliminary list. There may still be updates as we continue to receive information." Laura let out a shaky breath beside me, her grip tightening.

The man began to read.

The first name was unfamiliar, Sarah something... a woman's voice across the room letting out a soft gasp of relief.

Laura's fingers dug into my hand as we waited, each name like a hammer to the chest.

Finally, he paused and looked up right at me and in the distance, I could swear I heard him say Joshua and Lucas-as in Josh

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and Luke.

The room spun. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I had heard him correctly.

Laura's breath hitched, her grip on my hand suddenly crushing.

The sound of their names sliced through the suffocating silence, leaving me gasping for air.

My vision blurred, tears pooling in my eyes as a sob caught in my throat. Laura let go of my hand, covering her mouth with both of hers as she let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. They were alive.

I stayed rooted in my seat, staring at the spot where the man had stood, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Luke and Josh were alive.