{ chapter one: the little conqueror
“Flight B-4 to New York City, New York will be departing in fifteen minutes. Flight B-4 to New York City, New York, now boarding.”
You know those people you see running through the airport like they’re trying to escape the zombie apocalypse? The people whose heels break and coffee spills and bags drop? The people who, no matter how bad you may feel for them, you can’t help but laugh at?
Right now, I am one of those people.
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh crap, God dammit, craaap!” Practically on the brink of tears, I sprinted towards my gate, all the while trying to ignore the ridiculous weight of my backpack, the pain shooting up through the balls of my feet because of my heels, and the hot coffee spilled all over my hands. (That hot coffee, by the way, is the expensive Italian coffee I stood in line for fifteen minutes for, and the reason why I’m racing through an international airport like an idiot.)
“Flight B-4 to New York City, New York now boarding.”
“Fuck you,” I growled under my breath, growing more and more irritated with the intercom. Finally, I saw it — the glorious “B-4” painted in bold white, hanging above a diminishing line of only five more people. Ignoring the bemused expressions from the airport employees, I scurried up to the end of the line and heaved in a way that reminded me of a tuberculosis patient. Too much in a hurry to actually breathe, I began scrummaging around in search of my boarding pass.
“Are you alright?” I looked up from the black hole that is my purse to find the man in front of me smirking in amusement. I was too frazzled to utter anything coherent and ended up just muttering something about my boarding pass before diving back into my purse. Chuckling, he suddenly crouched down, and when he stood back up, he was holding a small slip of paper. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
I could feel my cheeks heat up as I identified the paper as my pass and, nodding embarrassedly, I took it with a quiet, “Thanks.”
He grinned before turning forward and handing the employee his own boarding pass. “Prego,” he offered cheerfully before heading in.
Sighing, and finally allowing my shoulders to drop, I gave the woman at the gate my boarding pass while managing a tired smile. Meandering into and through the plane, I managed to smack a couple people in the head while searching for my seat. When I finally found it — G2 — I found my path blocked by a tall body shoving a duffel bag into the overhead compartment. “Er, excuse me.”
The blockade turned around, revealing the face of the man who had helped me before. “Sorry about that.” I hadn’t noticed his Italian accent until now. “Let me move out of your way.” He slid into the window seat, allowing me to shove my backpack into the compartment beside his. “Oh, hello again.”
“Hi,” I replied awkwardly, taking the seat beside him. “Thanks for that, earlier. I was a bit of a mess.”
“Anything for a damsel in distress.” He chuckled while I blushed and, sitting next to him, I suddenly realized how handsome he was. Dark brown hair hung neatly above his light brown eyes, and it was neatly trimmed to accent his slim face. He was tall, a little over six feet I think, lean, and dressed in a button-down white shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. “My name is Luca.”
I looked down at his hand and lightly grasped it to shake. “Alexandria.”
“So, Alexandria, I think it would be safe to assume that you’re not from Italy.” I bobbed my head, now very aware of my American accent. On top of that, I had probably confirmed the stereotype of the spastic American, what with my earlier display. “Where are you from?”
YOU ARE READING
Flightless Bird
Romance"You've got everything you could ever want here -- friends, family, people who love you. Why are you so intent on getting out of here?" Trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, I looked to the side. I wanted to tell him that he was worth it, th...
