Holiday Mishaps // Jenlisa

2: Oh Karma

Jennie

Jennie tried not to think about the sound the plane made as people boarded. The slight creaks, the slamming of overhead luggage as people tried to claim their space, chairs buckling slightly under the added weight. Though she couldn't tell you who designed planes she could tell you it was a fucking mistake. People weren't made to fly, let alone in huge winged metal tubes with so much weight take-off should not have been possible. So as a small suitcase slammed into the overhead space above her she flinched.

"Lord, you have got to be kidding me."

Oh karma, you crafty little shit. "Fuck my life."

The girl sat beside her, wriggling in her seat in an obvious state of discomfort.

"Please stop moving, Taylor Swift."

She froze then turned to face the brunette, the pale face only inches from hers. She could smell the vanilla of her lip gloss and some perfume that smelt so damn good Jennie hastened to think of how bloody much it cost. It wasn't like she didn't have money; in fact, Jennie's position paid incredibly well, but she was raised in a house where owning a toothbrush was considered a luxury, and now even though she had money, it mostly sat in her account, fearing for dark days to return. She sure as hell wouldn't blow it on expensive perfume. No, Jennie wore the $20 shit by Britney Spears (that actually smelt fucking amazing and no she would never admit she owned fucking Britney perfume).

"Can you please, for the love of God, just use my name?" She pulled the tray down and placed her phone on it. "It's—"

"Lisa." They said simultaneously.

"I know, I just literally do not give a shit, blondie."

"You've used that one before."

"Oh fuck me with a sledgehammer. Dear fucking god." She mumbled under angered breaths.

"You have quite the potty mouth, don't you?"

"You have quite the Jesus spiel, why don't you leave me the hell alone, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?"

"Oh, original."

She pulled on her headphones, letting the tones of heavy rap distract her from both the blonde and the fact soon this metal bird thing would be airborne. Why didn't she just fucking drive? Yes it would be one hell of a commute but it would be far less painful than this, and at least she wouldn't be up there defying fucking gravity.

A hand hit her shoulder and she eyed the girl beside her.

"You, uh, you need to put your belt on. Take off."

Ignoring the tingle that ran down her spine at the momentary contact, she belted up and pulled her headphones off, ignoring the nausea that started to pool in her stomach.

"You okay there? You're looking awfully pale."

She closed her eyes, blocking out the god awful company, hearing the ding of the belt light above. Her hand clenched and she breathed in through her nose. Fuck she hated planes. The smell of sweat and the sickly mix of Lisa's perfume raided her senses, twisting a dagger into her gut as she focussed on just not throwing the hell up.

The flight attendants went through the exits before her as if she hadn't seen the fucking doors.

"Your exits are here." A motion. "Here." Another stupid motion. "And here."

No shit. The exits were the doors marked 'exit'. She highly doubted she'd be wanting to use them after takeoff anyhow, though plummeting to the earth did hold its own appeal; she'd be rid of Lisa.