My Summer Love Story | ✔️

ch. 4 ✰ crying babies and vodka tonics

"Final boarding for Costa Rica. Please line up at the desks so we can look at your ticket. I repeat, final boarding for Costa Rica."

The announcements for boarding play while I indistinctly listen to music against my earbuds. I am currently seated at the JFK airport in New York City, also infamously known as the one of the busiest airports in America. I do agree with the busy part, though; every time I look up from my phone, I see dozens and dozens of people hurriedly walking through the halls of JFK, as if they are in a rush to go somewhere that is very urgent. That's just how it is living in New York, everyone is in a rush.

It has been a week since D-day happened, and if you don't know what D-day is then it is known as the day my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my roommate, my parents insulted me for the hundredth time, my boss fired me from my job I thought was going so great, and to top it all off, a very handsome stranger that apparently had a ram rod up his ass decided to ruin my day even more.

I am actually pretty thankful for Ayushi right now. Not only did she pay for my plane tickets and give me an all-expense paid trip with a $1,000 salary for me, but I also feel like she saved me from my shitty life here in New York.

For at least a whole week she has been calling me, checking up on me, and giving me more details about the trip. And she gives me an outline of the things we are going to do in those two weeks; scuba diving, hiking, partying, going to the beach, and living it up in her expensive villa their family owns there. I guess I can say that we have gotten closer since then, especially because we haven't really talked in a while. But I can say that we are definitely getting closer now, and I can't believe I am saying this, but I am actually excited to see her.

I get up from my seat and yawn exhaustedly. My flight is boarding at 9am, which is early as hell for me, so that means I will be reaching Costa Rica around the afternoon or evening. I walk over to the desk where a very petite flight attendant stands by her podium. "Ticket, please," she grins at me. I show her my ticket as she allows me to go through the gateway. My suitcase follows me behind me as I walk through the connecting tube between the airport and the Delta airplane I am just now boarding.

I got Starbucks before I arrived here at the airport, which is my only way of getting through the day. Before I arrived here at the airport, I made sure to wear the cutest travel attire—melon colored leggings, a white crop top and sunglasses with a mini backpack—just in case I were to run into a cute airport guy because airport guys are a whole different story.

Chelsea and I are still not on good terms, obviously. Imagine if your best friend/roommate of four to five years suddenly betrays you by hooking up with your boyfriend. I was devastated! But I couldn't give any shits about them because I am going on a luxurious vacation with a whole bunch of people where I can just forget about my problems and live peacefully for the next fourteen days. But by then, I can catch up on some Z's during the plane ride and hope to God I don't get placed next to a screaming baby.

Spoiler alert, I did.

I annoyingly roll my eyes as the baby in the seat beside me wails. After I placed my luggage in the overhead bin, I sit down in my aisle seat and pull out a fresh copy of the People magazine as the mother beside me tries to calm her baby down. The mother seems to be the perfect epitome of an American mom: short blonde hair, creepy ice blue eyes, a raspy voice, and a cross necklace around her neck. She reminds me of my English teacher in high school... lowkey creeps me the fuck out.

"I'm so sorry about my baby," she whispers to me, a nervous grin appearing on her face. "She's usually not such a cry baby, a very quiet baby she is," the mom mutters. "I guess the fact that this is her first plane ride might be the reason why she is so cry baby-like today," she giggles and looks at her baby. "Isn't that right, Amanda?! Isn't Mommy right?" She tickles the baby as I silently wish to myself that murder was legal at this exact moment. And I didn't mean the baby.