I Just Don't Believe In Love...

Chapter 4: L.A.

"We've officially arrived in L.A." Dylan announces with a toothy smile.
I half smile, still groggy, "where's my mom?"
"Oh, Ms. Weirsma? She walked off a couple minutes ago. She said she'd wait for you by luggage claim." He shrugs.
"Why'd you wait for me? You could've left me in my glorious and probably drooling sleep," I joke. I stand up and grab my bag with my laptop and phone in it. We begin walking off the plane.
"You did drool, but only a little," great, "plus your mom would kill me if I left you here."
"You say that like you know her," I say curiously, "do you know my mom?"
"I live in the same town as you, your mom is a sheriff, I don't always agree with the law. We've spoken." He's totally hiding something.
"Okay, dude," dude? that's new, "I know I don't know you that well, but I can read people. And I can read you. You're lying or hiding something and I won't give it up until you tell me. So.."
"It's nothing, really. I'm just tired and it's been a long flight," he pokes me in the stomach, "plus you've been annoying me the whole time."
"Hey, I'm not the one who said 'hi, I'm Dylan'. I was perfectly okay with being anti-social." I laugh.
We get off the plane and walk towards the luggage claim. He seems to know this airport well.
"You seem to know the airport well." I state.
"That is true." He replies.
"Do you travel often?"
"I guess you could say that."
I'm about to ask why he's being so vague when I see my mom.
"Mom!" I head in her direction.
I'm clumsy. Very clumsy. I start towards her and trip over someone's suitcase trailing behind them. I begin falling forward. A strong-feeling hand grabs my hand, mid fall, and pulls me back to my feet.
I stumble forward and find myself nose to nose with Dylan. So close I can see very, very faint freckles on his nose. I can see golden brown flecks in his blue-green eyes. His cheeks are red, which snaps me out of my daze and I remember we're in public with my mom watching. I quickly pull back, feeling my cheeks heat.
"Sorry-- um-- thanks--" I stutter awkwardly, giving him a half smile.
"See you around, Andi," he sounds out of breath. He walks past me and gives my mom an awkward grin.
She was looking for her bags and didn't see that. I will live longer than one day in Los Angeles.
I walk over to her and look for my bags.
"Hello, sweetie." My mom wraps me in her arms, "how was the flight?"
"Fine. Good, actually. I had talkative, funny company. Do you know a Dylan.. ?" I don't know his last name.
"Dylan Blake? Sixteen, brown hair, about six foot?" She asks, gesturing with her hand to a point above our heads.
"I don't know his last name. Yes. Yes. He was sitting down." I laugh.
"He's a good kid. Makes trouble here and there, but he's very respectful." She mutters while looking for my bag.
I spot my three gray suitcases. I shoved a good six or seven bags in these. I'm quite proud. I grab them and we head towards the exit.
"Do you like Dylan? Like, would you want to see him again?" She asks once we're in her actual car, not a rental.
"I guess so. Um, I don't know," Yes. I nervously laugh, "why?"
"No reason, just wondering since he's in the same town as me." She has a slight curve to her lips, and is tapping her thumbs. She usually only taps her forefinger.
She's hiding something too.