Oh my god.
This isn't happening.
Shit shit shit
Now, what am I supposed to do?
My mom always told me not talk to strangers. In fact, everyone I ever knew told me that, it was the No. 1 rule when I was young. I should have listened because honestly, look where it got me.
I am currently banging my head on the airplane window, sitting next to the grumpiest women who apparently doesn't know the difference between a blush and a bronzer. I could paint her face neon and it still won't compete with her hideous seven layers of foundation.
I absolutely forgot to search for vacant flats or pre-book a hotel room before while waiting for the plane to arrive. So much for thinking ten steps ahead. Since Blake didn't shut up, I didn't realize the time flying. Literally, sprinting its way to glory. Now it's too late, they have already asked us to switch off our mobiles and buckle our seat belts.
Oh, right. I was inside the plane. Sitting in business class, secure in black leather seat belts with nothing to look at except the really pretty fluffy clouds.
The very thought of actually getting on the plane gave me goosebumps but now that I'm here, it's like the insides of my heart is playing Black Veil Brides. Rock music and my anxiety honestly don't go well together.
Without my apparent master scheme, I'm just another young-immature-attention-seeking-runaway with no plot whatsoever. And it was all his fault.
Yet somehow I miss his constant bickering, even if it was for just a couple of hours. He spoke like he never has before like he had no one listening to him. Who am I kidding, how can anyone not get utterly lost and wander off into the depth of his blue orbs?
I'm going so overboard. I still don't get how a pair of eyes have such an immediate and lasting effect on me. Gradually, staring into the blazing white clouds and rich indigo endless sky, my eyes shutter and three days of lost sleep washes me over.
"Psst"
"Tashhaa"
"Gosh, open your eyes."
"For heaven's sake, wake up."
I rubbed my tired and exhausted eyes with my motionless hands. Yawning, I stretch my hands as much as possible.
"Wakey wakey." He says playfully emphasizing on the 'e'.
"Eggs and bakey." I mutter as a habit, hoping he wouldn't hear it.
"Eggs and huh? What are you, five?" He laughed throwing his head back.
"What do you want Blake? And where's the Victoria's Secret Model who was sitting here?"
He scrunched his nose in disgust. "I gave her my number."
Sure, you did.
"I don't believe you."
"By the way, you're my terminally ill cousin. Okay?"
"Are you joking? That's what you told her?"
"Yeah well, technically I gave her Casper's number but who cares. The minute I told her you had leukemia, she swooned and agreed to shift places."
"You are so stupid. I don't even look ill. Why are you here anyway? I was sleeping." I bluntly said.
"For the record, we're almost there and gosh, can't a guy want company?" He looked hurt but quickly plastered a flirty smile on his face.
