I opened my book.
Maybe he’d settle down.
Instead, he claimed the entire armrest.
Then draped his jacket across the divider.
Then one of his shoes appeared underneath the seat in front of me.
Inside my legroom.
Every time he shifted, his thigh pressed farther into my side.
I tapped his arm.
“Could you move your foot, please?”
He removed one headphone.
“I’m six-three.”
I waited.
“Where exactly do you expect my legs to go?”
“Into the space you paid for.”
His mouth twitched.
“If you’re not using the space, what’s the problem?”
“I am using it.”
He shook his head.
Put the headphone back in.
Conversation over.
Apparently.
I tucked my feet together.
That made my hip ache.
I folded my sweater and wedged it beside me for support.
That helped for maybe twenty minutes.
Then he stretched again.
“Lord, help me,” I muttered.
Henry glanced over the top of his book.
