Romance in Italy

Romance in Italy - 5

 Five

I emerged from the airport, feeling dizzy and nauseous. I didn't know if I had a fear of heights or being up in the air but now, I think I do because the minute we stepped into the air-conditioned airport, I made a beeline for the bathroom, tying up my hair and clenched my arms around the toilet bowl, heaving up airplane peanuts and fruit juice.

"How's your stomach?" Mr. Blake asked as I grabbed one of my suitcases from the conveyor belt.

"Horrible." I mumbled. "I feel like I wanna throw up again."

He transferred the rest of our bags to one of the cart and began pushing his way to the door, leaving me to follow. A few minutes and a couple of turns later, I lost him. The area was jammed pack with people boarding or arriving the planes. People were everywhere; some in groups and some waiting alone. Excited chatters, joyful tears and squeals of ohmygoodness!, sounded all around me. I breathed out, hoping to calm my jittery insides while searching the crowd for Mr. Blake.

He spent the flight comforting me, murmuring assurances that we won't crash and die. I made him promised to watch me while I slept; I really don't know why but I took comfort in the fact that he'll be awake to sense if anything goes wrong and protect me. When I woke, I found him staring at me blearily. I smiled at him, and asked, "Did you really stayed up all night while I slept?"

"You'd asked me, and I promised. So I did." His head drooped a bit and I couldn't help but grinned. He looked so adorable with his eyes half-closed and his lips curled up in a victorious smile as if saying, I'm her knight in shining armor. I've no doubt that he is. Or will be. Who knows what might happen in Italy?

I checked my watch. We'll be landing in two hours. He can catch some quick Z's. "You should sleep."

"I'm so tired." He moaned, dropping his head on my shoulder, lifting the armrest up so our seats became one and scooted himself closer, hugging me around the waist. I stiffened. Teachers weren't supposed to do this; no matter how hot they are. But I couldn't say anything; all I could do was smiled and stroke his hair. The gesture felt right...strange as that might sound.

"What did you do when I was sleeping?" I asked while my hand continued to stroke his hair...up and down.

It took a while for him to answer but when he did, his voice sounded child-like and innocent. "I stared at you. You're cute when you sleep."

"What am I when I'm awake?" I asked instead, ignoring the blush that creep onto my face.

"I'm really tired so I will not be accounted for what I say when I'm half-dead." He mumbled. "You're so beautiful. It hurts me."

My eyes burned and the rogue tears threatened to spill. I looked down at him. His head was against my chest, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist as his chest heaved up and down while he slept. He looked peaceful and so much like a newborn puppy that I had the urge to kiss him. I turned my head as the tears finally leaked and streamed down my cheeks. My fingers never faltered as they buried themselves in his soft strands, sifting and admiring their texture.

No one has ever called me beautiful, aside from my family but that's inconsequential; they would always complement me, it's all part of the Parent Job Description. My ex-boyfriend had called me beautiful, once, but the endearment 'babe' or 'baby' or 'sexy' always topped 'beautiful'. As it turns out, he cheated on me so what he'd said, I dismissed as false or lies.

I sighed and whispered to myself under my breath, "I'm so pathetic."

**

I shook the earlier event from my head and sidestepped bystanders to look for Ashton. The masses of faces blurred and I gave up; opting to wait outside, since that's the more obvious and quickest choice. I finally pushed through the sea of people and walked out the revolving door, instantly spotting Ashton, trying to catch the attention of a taxi driver. I walked up and stood beside him, not speaking.