Jen's POV
The morning I left, traffic was horrible.
The streets of Los Angeles were packed with cars. Although my cab driver had convinced me that I would get to the airport in time, I was getting more desperate as the minutes passed by and we hadn't moved yet.
It seemed like everyone was on the road today, which resulted in a gigantic traffic jam. It was probably the worst it had ever been.
And of course it was today.
All morning I had been racing around the apartment, trying to fit all of my stuff into the one suitcase I was bringing to Vancouver. After clearing the bathroom shelves and reconsidering every piece of clothing I'd already put in my suitcase, I came to two conclusions.
First conclusion: I should have done all of this yesterday.
Second conclusion: it was a really bad idea to get on an airplane with a hangover. Really bad.
The night before I had a party with some of my closest friends and family, because I was going to Vancouver for a few months. It had been an amazing evening, but after only a few hours of sleep my mood had changed drastically.
Which, as I thought about it, was to be expected.
"Would it be possible to go a bit faster?" I asked the driver, trying not to sound desperate as I checked my watch for the millionth time. "If I miss this flight..."
I caught the driver's gaze in the mirror. One of his eyebrows was raised, and he made a gesture to the other traffic on the road. "I'm sorry, Ms. Morrison, but there's nothing I can do about this mess."
I sighed and forced a smile. Partly because I knew this wasn't the driver's fault, but also because I wasn't looking forward to another three hours on a plane and then a forty-minute car ride to the hotel. After so many years I'd gotten used to all the traveling, but that didn't mean I liked it all the time.
After another frustrating ten minutes, traffic was a little better and eventually we got to LAX. I put on a pair of very dark sunglasses and a hat and rushed to the gate.
Whenever you get in an airport, you immediately notice who recognizes you.
I saw a girl look in my direction and drop her jaw, and I already knew what was going to happen next. She grabbed hold of her friend's arm, who then turned around to look at me and squealed.
They almost came running over to me, so I took a picture with them and signed some papers. When I apologized for rushing, they looked as though they were about to faint.
Things like this made traveling a bit tricky, but it was a way of connecting with the people who watched and loved the show. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Almost exactly one year ago, I was on a plane to Vancouver to meet Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, two of the writers of Once Upon a Time. Now I was on the same plane, but this time to do a screen test with a new cast member and to shoot season two.
The last year had gone by in a blink of an eye, and the support of the fans was unbelievable.
A very monotone voice announced that passengers for the flight to Vancouver could board the plane, so I got up with my ticket in my hand. As soon as I found my seat, I sat down with a sigh of relief.
I grabbed my book, ready to close myself off from the world for the following hours, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Eh... excuse me, Ms.?"
If he wants an autograph, he could've asked me while we were still in the airport, I thought. Now it would only be a matter of time before other people recognized me, and then I'd be spending the following three hours signing autographs.
Slightly hesitant, I turned around to face a guy who looked uncomfortable. He grabbed the strap of his bag and scratched behind his ear.
"I'm really sorry, but I think you're in my seat."
My cheeks turned bright red. The guy obviously hadn't recognized me, nor did he want an autograph.
"I must've messed up," I said, trying to find my boarding pass. I pulled it out of my purse and searched for the seat number.
Seat 123.
The seat where I was currently sitting in clearly wasn't seat 123. It was 132.
I looked up at the guy, who was still standing there with the bag over his shoulder, and I forced a little smile. "I definitely messed up. My bad, I must've been distracted."
The corners of his mouth went up and he bit his lower lip, raising one of his eyebrows as if he didn't even notice he was doing it.
I got up from my seat and I couldn't help but smile for real when I looked up again. "Have a nice flight."
"You too." He took a step backwards to let me through, stepping right in front of an older lady who was trying to get to her seat.
"Watch where you're walking, boy!" she almost yelled. Before he had the chance to apologize, she pushed past him, looking all flustered and stressed out.
People around us were grinning amused as I got to the aisle. I raised my eyebrows and exchanged one last look with the guy before returning to my own seat.
Ten minutes later when the plane took off, my thoughts were already in Vancouver, where I was doing a screen test in two days' time. It wasn't until LA was already far behind us that my thoughts went back to the guy with the bag. There was something about him...
I sat up straight, catching a glimpse of his dark hair, and slumped back down in my seat. Then a grin spread across my face.
Must've been his accent.
♡ I know this is all still just the beginning, but I already have some fun ideas. Let me know what you think in the comments! Hope you enjoyed! ♡