Boys...

The Airport

Soon after the call, I received a text message from a hidden number.

Pick up:

Glenn Powell & His Friend

10:30 SHARP

Drop at Marriott hotel NYC.

❤ Emma Roberts ❤

YEAh. RIGHT.

I'm dropping them at NYC.

Yeah right.

After picking them up at an airport at Los Angeles.

YEAH.

FUCKING.

RIGHT.

I immediately tried to call Emma. And message her. But the number was blocked.

Then another ping notified me of another message- probably telling me "JK". I would probably laugh it off. My good sense of humor- even on a day where my tea had tasted like colored mixture of milk and water, and no sleep.

NOT!

The message just gave me a list of information telling me about the flight and what colored clothes he'll be wearing... And his phone number along with a sweet note telling me that if I flirted with him, I would probably get punched in my vagina. Okay. Till a minute ago, I felt that you could only threaten a man's genitalia. But I guess 2016 has made us all quite open minded. Unless you are a footwashing Baptist ofcourse... Or an Arab. Okay. No stereotyping. My bad.

I sighed and slapped my laptop shut, earning myself a few more glares, whom I couldn't care less about. I slid it in my laptop backpack, and strapped it to my shoulders. Till then everyone was taking a great interest in watching my actions. Suddenly, I realised, I still had my hoodie to wear. It was definitely cold outside. Seven years, and I still wasn't able to get used to American cold air. Honestly. I'm going to Florida. I said the- Oh, I had lost count. But subconsciously, even I knew- Easier said, than done.

Twenty one years old, and already acting mature. Well, I'm sure to end up like the senior colleagues of mine.

Anyways, I unstrapped my backpack and put on my soft Forever 21 hoodie. The only thing that was branded with Forever 21, I had ever owned. Then strapping it on again, I walked down the hall, past all the offices and rode the lift down to the basement, and found my red convertible. Joke. It was a black SUV. Just like any other. I got in, didn't forget to sigh and started the engines. It was barely a year old, and for once, it was actually living up my expectations.

It was only 10:00 am, so I went up to my flat, and packed a bag of money, food and other essentials, like clothes. My clothes just meant my blue jeans- the other one, the black one, I was wearing... So yeah just one set of jeans and two t-shirts. A black one which had cute cat whiskers, and another black one with glasses and a scar - the harry potter symbols on it. Some lingerie was also thrown into my expandable backpack, and its weight increased noticeably. Oh well.

Then clearing up a few things, I finally left my home, locked and everything, before unlocking it multiple times just because I had initially forgotten my mobile, then my hoodie, then my backpack and at last my keys. When I finally had everything, I grabbed another lift and walked down stairs. By the time I was back in the car, with my backpack on the passenger seat to my right, it was already 10:20.

Honking like crazy, I made my way through traffic, and finally reached their at 10:45.

Oh well, people can wait- can't they? I assured myself as I ran up to the exit and suddenly realized I had no idea how they looked and I was pretty sure they had no idea who was coming to pick them up. I grabbed a cardboard from an information desk, which they kindly let me borrow after they'd eaten my $10, and searched for a marker. What Americans call a "Sharpie". I saw two sophisticated gentlemen standing impatiently with two huge suitcases. One had a gruff beard as his important feature, while the other had some amazing cheekbones. So apparently, Mr. Cheekbones had some pen like thing in his hand, so I went up to them in hopes of NOT returning empty handed.

"Uh... Excuse me, but I was wondering if I could use your marker..." I asked as politely as I could. "Please." I added. Never did the golden word do any harm... Other than when even after using it, your kindergarten diaper-buddy, would still not share that awesome sauce cake with you. Then hell broke loose.

"Marker?" Asked Gruffly bear(d).

"Uh... Sharpie." I said, pointing at Cheekbones. He seemed to understand, and he offered the marker/sharpie to me. I smiled thankfully.

Then I grabbed my mobile and checked the message.

Ahh. Glenn Powell. Right.

I read and wrote what I had. The I held the cardboard up, and admired my handwriting. Being one of the last people with cursive in their style, I was quite proud of having a extremely better handwriting than my peers.

I clasped the sharpie/marker and started walking towards the exit doors.

"Uh, excuse me?" I heard Gruffly bear(d) call me. Uh-oh. I still had his pen.

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot." I said, as I turning around slightly embarrassed, pretty convinced that he thought of me as a petty thief. Many did actually. I gave him back the pen and turned around.

"Excuse me." Now this time it was a British voice. An extremely attractive one too.

"Yeah?" I turned around, to face Cheekbones.

"That's him." He pointed at the cardboard before pointing at his friend.

He actually repeated his actions several times, before I finally got it.

"Oohhhh.." Never was I so glad that I had my face hidden under a hoodie, because I had just felt another death due to embarrassment.

I'm pretty sure both of them face palmed mentally, because I know I did.