A Few Things about Love. Blake Griffin Fanfic pt. 2

;;Part 1

“No, but really,” I giggled into my phone. “That last dunk you made? I nearly died. How the hell do you do it??”

                “I guess it just comes naturally,” He said. I could practically see him shrugging when he said it. He paused. “I’m glad you saw the game, though.”

                “Yeah,” I said, trying not to sigh. I played with the frilly tassels on the corner of my pillow while hugging it tighter. It was late here, probably around 12:30. It was 10 pm in LA, where he was. Trying not to wake my roommate, I talked slightly quieter. “I wish I could have seen it all in person… Hell, I wish I could see you in person.”

                “It’s been so long…” He trailed off.

                “These past 3 months have been a bitch.” I said, half jokingly. But I secretly meant it.

                “I know, I know,” He said, laughing a bit.

                God, I missed his laugh. I remember, the first time we met I made him laugh so much. His laugh is deathly contagious. I smiled to myself, wishing that he were here with me again. I wonder if he knows how much I miss him. Sure, I’ve told him so many times, but still… I kept my smile anyways.

                “I miss you,” He said, as if reading my mind via iPhone.

                “I miss you, too, Blake.” I replied.

                “And that’s why I’m flying you out to LA this weekend.”

                ….

                What.

                “I got everything figured out and planned,” He said. "I want you here with me this summer."

                “Holy shit.” I said, still stunned.

                 “I hope that’s okay,” He said, calmly. I knew damn well that he was smiling.

                “Holy shit.” I said again. This time, he laughed even louder.

                My name is Jordan Hasket. I’m a 20 year old college student at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. And I guess you can say that I’m dating Blake Griffin.

                I say “I guess” because honestly, I’m not sure what we are.

                We met 3 months ago in March, after (and during) a game that I went to. After a series of events that only I had ever dreamed of, Blake and I end up in his hotel room, cuddling so close that you’d think we’d die if we were ever pulled apart. Which, surprisingly, didn’t happen.

                Since then, we’ve been calling, texting, and skyping each other, every chance we got. He’d be busy with games and I’d be so caught up in school work that I didn’t really find the time to ask what we are. Plus, why would I want to spend the little time we have for talking on such a serious topic? I’d rather keep things light and nothing too heavy. Especially after what happened months ago.

                Three months ago, I almost walked out on what I have with Blake. All because I couldn’t bring myself to believe that we could have something to begin with. Hell yeah, that whole situation was impractical; that shit was cray. But it felt right. And I loved it.

                I’m so glad I stayed.

                And now, I had everything packed and ready to go. It was 1:30 on a summer afternoon and I’m leaving for Los Angeles to be with Blake for a couple weeks.  

                Life is fucking great.

                Okay my direction skills aren’t really up to par, but I didn’t quite expect LAX to be this difficult. It was bigger that what I had thought, and more fascinating, brighter, and busier; with so much diversity around me. I smiled up at the Gate 32 sign that I walked under.

                I was supposed to meet Blake… somewhere outside the airport. But how the hell do I get out?

                I ended up finding a directory, which showed me where to go. Before I went to retrieve my bags, I decided to go to the restroom, just to make sure I’m looking okay. I checked myself out in the mirror, regardless of the two other girls doing the same. The two other girls were dressed far better than me, in my opinion. They must have been off to someplace important. Probably not meeting up with their NBA “boyfriends.”

                Or maybe they were.

               Damn, I thought. I smiled at myself as I turned to check out my right side. I really, really liked my dress. I was wearing one of the dresses that I bought the day before. It was an aqua-green, silky dress that flowed whenever I moved. It came down halfway to my thigh and was spaghetti-strapped with a heart shaped bodice.

            I couldn’t decide how I wanted to do my hair earlier. I didn’t know if should straighten it or keep my natural curls, like how Blake had seen me with the first time. I ended up straightening it, but then I put huge, wavy curls in it. My hair was swooped to one side, my left side.

                As the two other girls walked passed me to leave, one turned and smiled.

                “Love your dress, by the way.” She said. It didn’t sound sarcastic.

                “Oh my God, thank you.” I said, with probably the cheesiest smile ever. If even she thought I looked good, then damn, it must be true. I left the bathroom feeling 10x more confident.

                I found the exit/entrance to LAX after finding out that my bags were already brought to a vehicle outside. Carrying nothing but my purse, both fear and excitement hit me as soon as I stepped foot out the LAX doors and onto hot, Los Angeles concrete.

            About 15 feet away, in front of a huge, black matte SUV, stood my tall, curly haired dreamboat, who was dressed in a blue checkered button up with a grey cardigan. His dark denim jeans matched his dark blue tie. He had on his black Ray Band wayfarers, which he flipped up and onto his head as soon as he saw me.

          Goddamn, he looked fine. He looked like money wrapped in sex and dipped in pure gorgeousness. I might be over exaggerating, but he was definitely worth it. I was weak in the knees, and the butterflies didn’t help at all, but I wanted to run to him. And so I did.

                I ran that 15 ft distance, in heels, to get to him. His arms were outstretched and already around me as soon as I ran into him. He didn’t care that I nearly knocked him over, instead, he laughed. If my ear could cry, they would have at that moment. I missed his laugh, so much.

                He stepped back a little so that he could look down at me.

                “Hey there,” He said, smiling.

                I smiled back, my arms still around him.

                “You look,” He paused for a half of a second “Soo damn gorgeous.” He said, lifting a hand to move a piece of hair from out of my face.

                I shook my head slightly, still looking straight up at him.

                “You’re so damn tall.” I said and he laughed again.

                I missed his laugh so much.

                I missed him so much.