Chapter 7: Sour-iplier

                                    

                                          
The next morning, we were all woken up to a soft, clear sky, sun setting in the horizon. It was probably around 6 or 7PM, here, around the same time I left Ireland. I loved the way time seemed to go back.
                          
A delicious smell wafted into my nose, and my head snapped to the left, where I was handed a packet of chocolate-chip cookies. It appeared this would be the last meal before we landed, and I had no complaining. Cookies were a personal favorite of mine, so I managed to finish them before anyone else on the plane could even open their packets.
                          
Before long, the plane lowered to the ground, and we touched down in L.A.
                          
The moment I got off the plane, I turned on international data roaming; I didn't care if I had no money to pay for it - and that I was already paying for Joanne's (hense how she texted me in the first place) - I just needed it to text someone. Anyone who could help me out.
                          
I got to a spot in the airport where you were assigned a taxi and waited there, looking stressfully at my contacts. First, I texted Joanne to tell her I was in America and ready to come for her, but I would need rest first. She replied with an 'ok', which was odd; I mean, you'd think if you were being kidnapped, you be pretty fuckin' panic-y about it.
                          
While my mind consumed me, my thumb ran over a contact that made my chest ache a little.
                          
Markimoo.
                          
I felt a long, wavering breath escape me, and my head seemed to throb in ache as I had memories of the shit I said to put myself in the doghouse. It all seemed so stupid now; what I said back to him. I should have tried to reason with him. Maybe then I wouldn't be catching a taxi to nowhere.
                          
The chocolate-haired man who stood escorting people into their taxi and helping them with their luggage called me over, as there was nobody in front of me, and ushered me into the taxi.
                          
"Hello, where are you off to?" The driver asked, turning his head to reveal his dark eyes.
                          
"I don't know yet," I murmured, looking at my fidgeting fingers. He stepped on the gas pedal and drove to an area where he could stop, so other taxis could pass. "I haven't exactly found anyone willing to take me in."
                          
"Ahh, I wouldn't trust the hotels here," he chuckled, his green eyes focused on his phone in his lap. He put in two earphones. "You know what? You seem like a nice guy, I'll let ya sort something out while I read. Free of charge."
                          
I thanked him, a kind smile on my face as I selected a contact and began to text.
                          
'Hey man. I'm in LA. This will seem kind of sudden due to our recent argument, but I really need a place to stay. Please Mark, help me out.'
                          
I waited. The driver, who's name I learned was Chase by a badge on his shirt, continued to read and hum along to his song. Finally, a loud message tone played from my phone and I jumped to read.
                          
'Alright,' and following that were directions to his house as well as the address itself. Though the conversation was short and left a remaining, slight hole in my chest, I got Chase's attention and he began to be my ticket to herodom.
                          
My only problem now, was somehow fixing things with Mark; even though he was behaving minorly sour about it.
                          


                          


                          
A/N: Whoops, no physical Mark! Next chapter for sure though, guys, hahah! Next chapter might be up within the next few days~! (I'ma too sleepy to write anymore today =u= ) c: Peace~