"Okay father, I'll see you after five months," I smile sneaking glances at our house. It's ridiculous, cause the way I am dramatically memorizing the wallpaper patterns, someone would think I am going to get a futile heart surgery.
"Make us proud," he gruffly replies. My mother was weeping openly. I give them a tight smile, and get into the cab. Like every cheesy teen movie, I look at my room. My room, my personal haven, where I could let myself loose.
I'll miss this place..
Going to college is exciting and scary. Exciting cause you are away from parents, and completely free. Scary because, you don't know what sick bastards will paint your days grey every week.
"Flight 534A is boarding now." I look back at my ticket, to see if my flight wasn't leaving. Nope, still got twenty minutes. I push my trolley, to the baggage weighing counter. My phone rings. It must be my mother.
I take it out, but it slips out of my hand and goes sliding across the floor, as I stumble down, because I have stupidly hit a wall.
I should not multitask!
My first concern is my phone. I lift my head, ignoring the ache on my sides, and see it is safely resting on the floor. No cracks. I send a thank you to heaven.
Suddenly, the wall groans.
Hold on...
Walls don't groan...
Shit, I hit a motherfucking person!
"Oh my God! I am so sorry," I gush getting up. An attendant was already lifting the person. Words die in my mouth, as I register I didn't hit a person. I hit a goddamn giant!
The person, who I can only assume to be male, with broad shoulders and cropped hair, has his back to me. He is wearing a black jacket. I was wearing a black hoodie. It would be totally inappropriate to knock down a person, and pinch him for being color twins at the same time.
"Are you hurt?" I go towards the person. Cold, gray laser eyes snap to me. I flinch under his glare. "You hit me with your family's luggage! Of course I am hurt," he growls, an angular jaw, that is clenched together as if holding back a sneer.
"Actually, it's just my luggage," I point out. I don't know why I did that. He turns his head and looks at my fallen trolley in disbelief.
"Did you pack your family into the suitcases? I mean.. Really?" he raises an eyebrow, looking between me and my stuff. I feel my temper rising.
"Hey! What I pack, or how much I pack is none of your damn business, mister!" I flip at him.
"You sure have the nerve to shout at me, after damaging my shoulders," he scowls, rolling his shoulder joint, bulky biceps outlining through the jacket.
"Well that's what'll happen, if you take so many steroids," I mutter loudly. His head snaps to me, expression vicious. Handsome or not, huge men intimidate me. And right now, even though I am acting smart-alecky, I'm a raindrop away from putting my tail between my legs and running away.
"Steroids?!" he spat, as if he couldn't believe I could say that. "This," he barks pointing at his curled arm. "-is pure hard work, and dedication."
"Which got injured by some light weight bags, but whatever," I shrug, looking away.
"You're a mean person, who hits people, insults them, and then doesn't even apologize," he scoffs in disapproval, picking up his bags.
"Hey! I apologized! I said sorry twice, you ass!" I fume.
YOU ARE READING
Luggage Bitch
Romance"Umm.. Thanks," I mumble, kicking dust with my shoes. "What?" Max asks me. "I said, thank you," I say more clearly. "Still can't hear you... Could you repeat that?" he asks politely. "I said thank you!" I shout. "You pig," I add lowly. "Still nada...
