Flight 21

Chapter 4

 Okay guys before you start this chapter you have gotta read this!!!!!

I started reading this story by a request and I just felt the need to tell you guys about it. So here's a breif summary and you guys decide whether to read it or not. 

It's a historical fiction and I guess romance and the author is danielaistoocool

 Meet Rose Jefferson. She is your typical 20th Century British mean girl. Sublimely beautiful, mean, and heartless. A recent scandal broke out about her soon-to-be husband and her sister, and her life is in a downward spiral. This is Rose's story, and it's going to be a sweet-and-sour romance. Is she going to be forever broken? Or can a certain glassmaker help repair her shattered heart?

 So basically it's a pretty interesting story so far. If it seems like something you wanna read then click on the external link and check it out. 

Personally I liked it since I happen to be a fan of historical fiction but if thats not your thing, then check out her other story, 'The Day'. It's about this girl who keeps realiving the day she died because of a simple wish she made.

So on that note, onto the story!!!!!

“Would you at least try to keep up,” he mumbled, stopping ahead to let me keep up. This is how it’s been for the last few hours with Trent around. After he was done ranting about how I’d probably die in the jungle myself, he might just turn out to annoy me to death.

It was starting to get dark but the jungle still stayed warm and breezy. But walking with Trent was no fun. Even after my continuous begging he refused to put his shirt on, which sucked because every time he caught me staring at his abbs he gave me that annoying smirk. Now would be a perfect example of one of the many times he’s managed to bother me in the last few hours.

“Well I’m sorry,” I scowled staring at him, “you try walking through the humid jungle with a throbbing foot, no food and an idiot who has no idea where we‘re going!” I passed him waving my hands in the air, trying to make a point.

He rolled his eyes and continued walking. “Please, I have to walk in this jungle with no food and a girl who won’t stop complaining,” he muttered under his breath. I glared at him from behind as he walked ahead once more. “And there’s nothing wrong with your foot,” he added louder.

“Yes there is! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” I screamed, stopping to show him the bruise. I rested on a mossy log and took on my gladiators I was wearing from the plane. He leaned over my shoulder to see the large purplish bruise covering the side of my foot.

“Let me see that,” he said hopping over the log and grabbing my already pounding foot roughly. He turned it over a few times in his hands examining it while I rolled my eyes at him. His touch was cold considering the weather but it felt nice on my skin. “Nothing’s broken,” he said slowly, “I think you just hit it off something. Hard.”

“I could have told you that.” I said as he glanced up at me, confusion in his luminous eyes. “I hit it off a seat when I tripped in the plane. Not to mention I hit my ribs off the wall,” I explained wincing at the memory.