-Jacqueline- "Moving to California to start a bakery is a big step for me, Dad. No matter what you say I'm going." I rehearse, to my reflection, of course. "Okay, Jac, you can do this." I grabbed my keys, locked my door and headed to my baby. Well, not a real baby but my Tiffany Blue two-door Jeep Rubicon. I call her Tiff, and she's been my only support since I was nineteen and bought her myself. On the drive to my dad's and step terror's house, I think of what I'm going to name the bakery. I want it to be something that is catchy and that has a meaning, not just a random name. Seeing the tall, wrought iron gates of my childhood home roll into my view snaps me out of my reverie. I've called Kat, my dad's cook and personal assistant, letting her know that I was coming over at nine o'clock sharp. Being the punctual person that I am, it's eight fifty four when I pull in to the roundabout that is the driveway. Walking up the stairs I get nostalgia from when mom was still alive, missing the good 'ole days I slink in-between the pillars of the porch. I take a deep, steadying breath, exhale, and knock on the door. The ass-hat I call stepmother opens the door with a fake smile on her makeup-caked face; wrapping her over-polished talons around my shoulders and drawing me in for a hug. "Jacqueline, darling, come in!" she gabs, managing to sound like a British supervillian. Playing the nice stepdaughter, I step inside, only to be met by my dad. "DAD!" I scream, throwing my arms around him and hugging him for what seems like hours. His chest rumbles with deep chortles as he says, "Hi Short Stack! I'm happy to see you too!" I chuckle and nod, knowing that's his way of saying 'I love you'. "Where's my hug?" Susan pouts, sticking out her already obnoxiously pouty bottom lip. Proceeding the pout of all pouts, she throws her arms around my dad and squeezes. Dad laughs, "You know I'd never forget you, honey." And the smile on his face is what keeps me from ripping the pink, plastered lipstick off of her fake face. Moving into the living-room, I ask dad and Susan to sit, conveying that I have something to tell them. As soon as we sit an awkward silence settles over us. "I'm..." I start only to be interrupted by Susan, "OH MY GOD ARE YOU PREGNANT?!" She screams. "NO, no, God no." I diffuse, "I'm moving to California. I'm starting me and mom's dream bakery." My dad's celebratory, "Congrats, kiddo!" and Susan's outraged, "What? No!" mingle and create a cacophony of surprise. "I thought you'd be against this, dad?" I question, ignoring Susan's protest. "It's been a long time dream of yours and I'm not going to stop you from doing it, but you have to promise to text or call every-other day at least. Okay?" he replies. "Thank you! This means so much to me dad! My flight leaves tomorrow at six so I better go finish loading the Uhaul!" I rush out of the door throwing a "Love you both!" behind my back, not even bothering to acknowledge Susan.
/Time Skip: Airport at 5:30 am/ I'm all hyper and excited to get on the plane; moving from Florida to California won't be that much different in weather, but I'm so ready to get back to surfing. I had my dad have one of his pilots fly my jeep to Cali already, seeing as I was going to need it when I got there. I left my surfboard in the back of Tiff along with my swim trunks and bikini top, so when I got there I could drive straight to the beach and go. (Her surfboard)
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/Time Skip: On the Plane/ I sat down in seat 12A, first class. Sadly, the window seat was taken by a unruly mop of blonde man hair, that was wrapped in a Disney blanket and wearing a Mickey hat. Trying to make small talk I started,"So you just go to Disney?" The blonde looks up, and it's "TYLER OAKLEY?!" I whisper-shout, "Your channel is like my entire life!" He laughs then groggily states, "Well, I'm glad to be of service." After that we fell into a comfortable conversation about pets and YouTube. Next we started talking about why I was moving to Cali. "So, what made you want to move in the first place?" Tyler asks, invoking the memories of my mother. "My mom and I always talked about opening our own bakery, then when she passed I guess it just made it more real. Like I could finally see why she wanted to actually do it. Recently, I just got enough of my own money to move down here and have a place to stay. Well, as much of a place as I can, with out using money for the bakery or from my dad. The only reason that I won't use my dads money is because I want to be able to say that I did this all on my own." I divulge. "Well, if doing it on your own ever gets boring, here's my number." Typing his number into my phone, Tyler solidifies the best friendship of my life. /Time Skip: At the House/ When I got off the plane I texted my dad and asked where my Jeep was. He responded telling me how to get there from the front doors of the airport. After wondering aimlessly around the parking lot for about thirty minutes, with nothing but my backpack, camera and keys, I found my baby. I immediately unlocked the car, hopped in and inhaled the fresh, salty smell that radiated from every nook of my car. I then got back out, remembering that I needed to take the top off. Pumping myself up for the heinous task of getting my 5'1 frame to reach the top of the Jeep is always an embarrassment in front of people. As I'm struggling to reach the top I hear, "You need some help, there friend?" Not only is the voice a nice mix of deep but not to deep, he has an accent. The voice alone is drool worthy, but the accent has my saliva dripping from my mouth. Not literally, of course. "Uh... yes please!" I answer. The guy that walks over is in his early twenties, around 5'10, and has as green fringe. Unrolling the soft top from my Jeep he remarks, "She's a real beaut, you taking her anywhere special?" "I'm taking her down to The Wedge, in Newport Beach." "What's The Wedge? It sounds like a restaurant." He chuckles. "Nah, it's a SoCal surf spot. It's my favorite." "Well, mind if I join, the name's Seán, but all my friends call me Jack." "Well Jack, you can come along, and my name is Jacqueline, but all my friends call me Jac." I laugh, finding it ironic that we both go by Jac, or, well, Jack. "Isn't that odd?
