Jet Lag

Chapter One

-Chapter One

"Stop that!" I snapped, at his obnoxiously-loud humming of show tunes.

He flashed a small grin, before ignoring me and continuing, only a little louder in volume this time. I'm so glad he finds pleasure in annoying me. If only there was some way off this plane before I lost all the mental stability I had left. 

Twenty minutes down, seventeen hours and forty minutes to go.

"What are you, like five? I hate you." I tried again.

He just laughed, "Oooh. Good one," His sarcasm evident. "You know it hurts that you hate me so much," he paused for a long-dramatic moment then continued, "Oh wait, and now I'm over it." 

I rolled my eyes, at his childish comeback. He was twenty-two, and I still didn't have any idea when he was going to start acting like it: one of the main reasons we broke up. My maturity level was so far above his, he couldn't even see it if he looked up. 

"So are you ever going to tell me?"

His humming stopped, thank goodness. He looked at me fully, now. "Tell you what?"

"What the hell you're doing here?"

"Why, you think I'm stalking you or something?"

I just smirked at him. Wasn't it obvious? "Well it's not everyday that farmboy gets on a plane to Singapore."

"Farmboy?"

"Just answer the question."

He laughed again, that familiar sound that I used to love. Now I couldn't stand sitting next to him for thirty minutes without slapping him, and I was overdue.

"Not everything is about you, you know. And I'm not going to Singapore."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Well that's where this plane is going so good luck with that."

"This plane is not going to Singapore. It's going to Italy."

"Um, no. This flight is going to Singapore."  

"Check your ticket stub," He said, before pulling his out of his pocket. He showed it to me, revealing that it indeed read a first-class ticket to Italy.

I laughed at his stupidity. He must have gotten on the wrong flight.

I searched through my skirt pocket to fish out my ticket stub. When I found it, I showed it to him.

"See, it clearly says Singapore."

"No it doesn't."

"Huh?" I looked back at my ticket stub, to see that it read Italy.

"So, I believe you are the one who is stalking me."

I rubbed my forehead, in a drastic attempt to soothe me. How could this happen!? I clearly said to the lady one ticket to Singapore! I knew she had no idea what she was doing, when it comes to her job. The minute I got off this plane, I was going to write an extremely bad review about that airport. Especially that idiot lady working at the ticket counter who obviously needed to drink a little more coffee and wake up.

"This can't be happening..." I murmured, ignoring Wes' comment. A triumphant smirk was already starting to appear on his face.

I jumped up again, going to the flight attendant. She looked less then pleased to see me twice in less then an hour.

"Can I help you?" She said, begrudgingly. The annoying smile she had in the beginning of the flight had already started to fade.

"Yes. I'm on the wrong flight. Can we have like, an emergency landing or something? I really need to get off this plane."