2.9

                                    

                                          
August 2nd, 2016 - Don't break your own heart, kid.
                          
I had packed my bags six days in advanced and quadruple checked everything a least once every twelve hours, yet, as I stood in front of my measly local airport, something still felt like it was missing. 
                          
My dad patted me on the back. "You're gonna have the time of your life, no doubt. You just might be the luckiest girl in the world."
                          
Of course, my father had been radiating enthusiasm since the plans had been completely finalized and, no matter how hard he tried, it couldn't rub off onto me. A mix between nerves, dread, and the shits had ruined the last week for me. Luke spoke to me for all of two nonconsecutive hours, insisting that he was thrilled we could finally meet up, but I was no idiot. Something about his apathy had ruined the idea of this trip long ago.
                          
My dad kissed me on the cheek as we said our amiable farewells right there in the parking lot. We had agreed that I could handle this alone, considering it was not my first time flying by myself. Additionally, he couldn't bear to leave the dog at home, so she rested in the passenger seat and patiently awaited his return to the car. I waved at her, watching as she barked softly from the open truck window.
                          
"Be good," was all my father said as he hugged me for the final time.
                          
The airport was quiet but my suitcase was not. It rumbled and thumped it's way to the desk, where they promptly picked it up and sent it to board the plane without me. I made it through security and reached my terminal without a single problem, other than the dull pang of uncertainty gnawing at the back of my brain and the boredom, which was settling in faster than I had anticipated.
                          
One long, nerve-wracking hour passed before I was finally seated comfortably in the last row of the plane. The flight attendant shot me a sympathetic look, most likely because I was sitting alone for the next 27 hours. Two books, one pair of headphones, and a flattened peanut butter sandwich were the only contents in my bag, with the exception of my beaten wallet and a single stick of gum. 
                          
"Hey," the flight attendant said. "Do you want a pillow?"
                          
I shrugged. "We haven't even taken off. Aren't pillows distributed when it gets dark?"
                          
She shrugged, adjusting the pin on her breast. "You look like you needed it."
                          
And thus, the most agonizing flight of my life began.
                          
* * *
                          
The majority of the passengers ahead of me seemed fast asleep, or were at least pretending to be. However, my eyes would not remain shut. My mind was racing, speeding down a path of utter emotional confusing. 
                          
In less than a day, I would be in the household of Luke Hemmings, international popstar, longtime best friend, present day asshole. Why weren't we more excited? We had only been planning this occasion since we were both eight. I'd dreamed of the day where I could finally see who I'd jokingly married as a child. This was something I'd wanted for so long. 
                          
Perhaps I'd be less worried if I hadn't finished one of my books in the span of three hours. The other book wouldn't last me more than two, essentially leaving me with a rather boring window seat and the 83 songs on my phone. The Notebook was the only movie they had played in the last four hours (yes, it was on repeat) and I'd never felt more like dying.
                          
A man returned from the bathroom, stumbling slightly from the drinks he had ordered in first class an hour ago. He partially fell, partially lowered himself into the seat beside me, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. I raised an eyebrow, scooting closer to the window to distance myself. He itched at his unshaven chin and tugged once on a dark, curly strand of hair. He was dressed nice but still looked messy and I could smell the orange juice, liquor, and regret on his slender figure.
                          
"What's in Australia for you?" he asked, never opening his eyes.
                          
"Um, pardon?"
                          
"A young lady like you wouldn't make a trip this far by herself if she wasn't going for something specific. What is it? Family? A job? A boy?"
                          
I wrapped my earbuds around my finger, nervously tucking my legs into my chest as if it would protect me from this encounter. "A boy, actually. Just a friend though."
                          
The man sighed, turning to face me with piercing green eyes. "I went to Canada for a woman. It was friendly, too. But love is unavoidable, and love is cruel. And now I'm on a flight back home."
                          
I blinked. 
                          
"My point is, don't break your own heart, kid. Stay level headed. Also, the liquor here is amazing and you will need to take advantage of that."
                          
* * *
                          
@luke_is_a_penguin tweeted: cut through the clouds
                          
* * *
                          
i am sweating but i've got fries and determination and i'm finishing this damned book 
                          
stay cool