Hey, just want y'all to know that I don't own Han or any of the other characters from the fast and furious movies. I just think he's hot. And I like the movies. However I do own Jenny and filip, so just don't steal them. Im Norwegian so English is not my first language, and I'm dyslexic. You can absolutely laugh at my mistakes. But here, værsegod:)
Jenny's POV
Finally Im on my way out of that god awful plain. Let me tell you, sitting in between nature lady with Crystals and no deodorant and fat snoring guy smelling like old cheese was horrible. As I happened to be sitting in the middle seat I was seriously considering faking a heart attack or something like that. I have never in my life experienced such a smell in my life, and it had left it's mark on my soul. In addition, no arm space plus being mushed in a mountain of fat and drowning in the smell of sweat and the deafening loud snoring. It was hard, but in some miraculous way, I survived without any physical wounds. The wounds were psychological and would probably never heal. I am convinced that I am scarred for life. The flight took a total of 8 hours and 58 minutes to be exact. But this sacrifice was worth it. I came here for my younger brother, at this moment he was worse of than me reeking of secondhand sweat. I had decided to take a break from school, not sure how long it would be. I attend a university up north in Norway. I'm actually attending law school. I haven't thought about school in Tokyo yet. I was also shaken be the thought of not having a car for the first fire days.
I had been living for cars and driving for as long as I could remember. When I turned sixteen, it wasn't really necessary for me with the two years of practice (in Norway you start practise driving at 16 and can't get your driving license until you're 18). I had already been driving since four. I knew cars inside out, it was where I felt the calmest. My stepfather also have a thing for cars. He was the one that thought me how to drive when I was a kid. We both liked driving fast and we'd had our fair share of friendly races.
A year ago we went on vacation to La, which was just fabulous. There I had met a guy, a big bald latino man. His name was Dominic Toretto and me and my brother helped him hide. I know its stupid crazy that we hid a big Latino bald guy running from police. But I have an explanation.I had actually met him a week earlier when I admired his car. It had been a black 1970 Dodge Charger R/T, just pure mussel. Usually I wasn't a mussel kinda girl, personally I am more of a jdm gal. So the streets of Tokyo better deliver. Dom was the one that first introduced me to street racing. I guess he decided that I was worthy of a Toretto introduction. Street racing had been the Adrenalin I needed, the rush I so desperately needed. And It looked like I had a talent for it too. I had won race after race, and eventually I had a good stack of money in my suitcase. Sadly I could take with me the 6 cars I had won during the short visit. I had to leave them in LA. My mother totally freaked out, but it was all just so worth it in the end. The three weeks had gone by fast, and dom still had my number. My brother weren't that interested in these kind of things, but he liked sitting in my passenger seat. I usually call him my lucky charm.
An hour later I had somehow managed to get both my suitcases and luggage from the thingy that makes ass all suicidal and grabbed a baguette while I was at it. All of this within an hour. Damn I was really getting good at this stuff. The airport had been a literal nightmare disaster maze from hell, but I kept my eyes on the price. Even though I just wanted to give up and lay down to cry on the ground. The baguette I bought had a funny taste but I was so hungry that it just went straight down my throat. It had some black, green and pink stuff mushed together inside. It looked both disturbing and fascinating at the same time. Right now I'm trying to catch a cab. I have been standing there waving for like 40 minutes. All the cabs just kept driving past me. I stood like a idiot in the rain, waving my hand on the street when a woman approached me. She tapped my shoulder lightly. She had black hair and bangs. She was about the same hight as myself, a solid 5.3
YOU ARE READING
What did you Expect?
HumorJenny Marie Karlsen. That's my name. No one ever, i mean ever get's it right. You've probably already guessed that I'm not from anywhere near America. I'm Norwegian actually, with Italian grandparents. Not that it counts. I had the absolutely perfec...
