Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (Teacher-Student Romance Robert Downey Jr.)

Mile High Club.

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My head hurts. My fucking head hurts.
The check-in line is so damn long, I'm gonna kill myself.
I really shouldn't have poured so much champagne down my throat, last night.
Thank god my family stayed home and didn't come to the airport. I wouldn't have wanted a huge goodbye scene.
My arm, which is resting on the luggage handle, steadies my head that seems to weigh more each second. As the woman in front of me moves forward, the handle smacks down and I fall forward, against her.
"I'm so sorry!" I mumble and she raises an eyebrow.
"Aren't you a bit young for a hangover?"
I try a weak smile. "Is this a trick question?"
She laughs lightly and brushes the ginger hair from her eyes. "What would the trick be?"
"Well" I start and stretch my neck a little. "Maybe you're just a nice lady, who wants to have a conversation."
"And if not?" She asks, curiously.
I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe you're a cop and then I'd be in trouble."
"Why would you be in trouble?"
"The last time I checked, underage drinking was a felony." I blurt out. "I'm nineteen."
The woman doesn't laugh with me and my eyes widen in suspicion.
"You're not a cop right?"
The red haired woman pulls something out of her back pocket. "I prefer the term police officer."
A couple of seconds go by, until I realise she's holding a badge in front of my face.
"It was my sisters engagement party! It was just a glass of champagne...or maybe two. I'm so sorry! Please don't arrest me! I need to go to New York!" I explain.
She holds a hand up and then starts laughing. "Calm down, kiddo."
Her smile is wide and open and she laughs like nobody is watching.
"I'm a police officer, not an asshole."
I sigh and let go of my suitcase, which I have aggressively held on to for the last seconds.
"Congrats to your sister."
"Thank you." I reply firmly, still confused.
The officer is a bit smaller than me, but doesn't look any less capable of putting someone down. Mentally and physically. From afar you can tell that she's extremely fit.
And she's attractive. Very attractive. Her red hair is cut off just right above her shoulders and compared with the freckles on her nose and her sharp cheekbones, she could be a model for Tommy Hilfiger.
"So, what exactly brings you to New York?" She asks me.
"I got an internship at 'Lockwood Publishing'. A publishing house in Manhattan. A friend helped me get it and I'll be there until I go to college next fall."
She nods her head. "Sounds really good."
We stay in silence for a bit.
"Oh god, I'm sorry! What brings you to New York?"
She starts laughing and I join in.
"You're pretty worn out, aren't you?"
I can only nod.
"I'm heading back home. I live in New York."
"You're a police officer in New York?" I repeat and can't hide my fascination. "That's amazing."
"Just doing my job."
"I'm Aria." I introduce myself and stretch out my right hand. "Aria Hart."
"Foster." She replies. "Violet Foster."
"Nice to meet you, Officer Foster."
"Foster is enough for now, Hart." She winks at me. Of course, the first New Yorker I meet, has to be a cop. It might not be the best way, but it certainly will be the most interesting.

Foster and I spend the rest of the time together at a Starbucks and as the Steward makes the announcement to get ready for boarding, we both walk towards the gate.
She tells me that she's 34 (which she doesn't look like at all), born and raised in New York City. No kids, no husband or boyfriend.
I tell her exactly the same, leaving out Alex.
When they announce first class she grabs her things.
"You're first class?" I ask surprised and help her with the heavy sports bag.
She cocks an eyebrow. "You're not seriously flying coach, are you?"
I slowly nod and am suddenly not so sure if the look right now that she's giving me, means she's still considering to arrest me.
"I am?" I answer and it sounds like a question. A stupid question. "I'm sorry, but how can you afford first class?"
"What, just because I'm a cop it means I'm poor?" She says.
"I thought you didn't like the expression 'cop'." I reply and she grins.
"Underage drinking is still a felony, Hart."
"Fair enough." I laugh and Foster turns around.
"My brother is the pilot." She states and starts to make her way towards the boarding line, which isn't there yet. Because she's flying first class.
My head hurts more now, since I'm imagining the various wonderful features I could endeavour in the first class.
But sooner than i thought, the steward on his dark blue uniform announces my group and I head for the line.
The airplane is air conditioned, even though it's November. But it's still California, right?
A lady, who's smile looks like it's burned into her face tells me to go through to the second aisle and I follow.
As I walk towards my seat, my mind trails off to my final destination.
I have always dreamed about living in New York. It's a childish dream and a very common one, I know, but it has always been one of mine.
Line 36, Seat A.
'A' means window. Window is bad. I hate window seats. Everybody seems to like them and I don't know why. I don't want to see the plane start or land. I don't need to see the town from the bird perspective and most of all, I don't want to be the one who gets out last when the plane crashes or see how it's going down.
And I want the opportunity to pee, whenever I want to and as often as I can. There is nothing worse, than knowing that the person next to you knows that you know that they know that you're going to pee.
It's a window seat. And until now, there is no one sitting next to me.
Thank you god.
I throw my bag in the overhead compartment and let myself fall into the seat.
And now it is time.
The game begins.
The game of analysing all the people who walk down the aisle and could be my seat partner for the next six hours.
No. Please not you.
And not you.
Oh hello....you look very nic-
No. Apparently we're not meant to be.
And then I get tired of watching and take a look outside.
It has started to rain and the drops are having races down the glass.
"Excuse me?"
I look up and stare right into a pair of cold blue eyes. Matching the dark blue uniform the elderly woman is wearing.
"Yes?" I answer and narrow my eyebrows.
"Young lady, you have been upgraded."
"I have been what?" I ask, now giving her my full attention.
"You have been upgraded to first class." She repeats, slowly and clearly.
"There must have been a mistake." I tell her and shake my head. "I didn't upgrade myself."
"I know." She adds. "Your father did."
My eyes widen in surprise. "He did?"
"Oh come on Honey, I haven't got the time. We want to take off soon. So grab your stuff and follow me." She says and almost pulls me out of the seat.
I can't believe this is happening. This flight will be wonderful.
My thoughts are running wild, thinking of the comfortable chair I will sit in and the delicious food I will eat.
When we enter the first class behind the curtain, I immediately see Foster sitting relaxed and flicking through the board magazine.
"Hello, young Lady."
"Ma'm, there is no need to call me youn-
But then I realise that the stewardess didn't speak to me.
My back turns and I immediately inhale sharply.
"That is certainly not my dad." I state and the old lady frowns.
"You thought I was her father?" His deep voice has now lost the sensual tone from before. It's now high and squeaky.
I burst out in laughter. Downey shoots me a death stare, but I can't seem to stop.
"Well, I just thought because you look like a fath-
"I do not look like a father!" He hisses back and stands up from his seat.
"I'm sorry, Sir. But-
"I don't care about your shit." He rants and the lady gasps.
Well, well, well, you should never talk to Mr. Downey about his age.
"Maybe we can all just take this down a notch, shall we?" I say and raise my hands, trying to calm him down.
"I most certainly will not tolerate this behaviour on this airpla-
"No one cares about your sensitivities." Downey raises his voice.
I look at him in despair and shake my head.
"This is getting a little out of hand no-
"I want this man removed from my plane, immediately!" The stewardess shouts and now all the other passengers seem to have picked up the conversation.
Downey shouts something back and then I start to scream and suddenly we're all three screaming at each other and it's a huge mess, until suddenly a high pitched sound resounds a couple of steps away and we all go silent.
"Rape whistle!" Somebody shouts.
And when I turn my head towards the voice, I see Foster standing there, holding a yellow whistle in her right hand and looking furiously at us.
"Can we all calm down and act like adults now?" She asks and looks at all of us.
I nod and sigh. "Of course. Sorry for the inconvenience, Foster."
"Oh no. Not you Hart, the real adults."
I clench my fist, but avoid the confrontation that could occur.
"You know her?" Downey asks me surprised.
"Hey! Grandpa! Sit down now." Foster interrupts and I see Downey's mouth corner twitch. He inhales deeply and as he turns towards Foster, I know exactly what will happen now and I'm so not up for it.
"What did you just call me?" He grumbles in the deepest voice I have heard in a long time.
"I will call you a lot more, if you don't take this butt of yours back to your seat so everyone on this plane can get home to their families or jobs." She replies, strictly.
Downey vapours himself, so his suit shirt stretches dangerously.
"Let me tell you something." He hisses and makes a step in her direction.
Foster cocks an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell it to my badge?"
Downey's eyes widen, seeing the police badge and he immediately sits down.
"Never mind." He says overly nice and gives her a shining smile.
"Then everything is settled and we can all enjoy our trip back to New York."
She gets back to her seat and the stewardess straightens her hair.
"If you need anything don't hesitate to call me." She says to me and I nod.
"Thank you." Downey says.
"Not you." She snaps and waddles off.
I let out a chuckle and he squints his eyes at me.
I sit down next to him and throw one leg over the other.
"There is just so much room for my legs." I say, mostly talking to myself.
He just grunts and I frown.
"So, you're afraid of a police officer?" I tease and he straightens his tie.
"What should I have done?" He mumbles. "Press her up against the wall? Because that seemed to work with you, whenever you were getting cocky."
I gasp and shoot him a look.
He grins. "Remember?"
"No." I hiss through my gritted teeth. "It's not something worth to remember."
He rolls his eyes and puts his arm on the arm rest, pushing mine off.
"Hey!" I say.
"It's mine." He replies
"No it's not!"
"I bought this seat for you, so you don't have anything to say but 'thank you'."
"Thanks, daddy." I hiss back and he tightens his jar.
"Don't you call me that." Downey grumbles and leans over.
"Oh, what are you gonna do about it? Press me up against the wall?" I say, sarcastic.
"Maybe." He sighs. "Want to become a member of the mile high club?"
"Just remember." I say and take my iPod out of my bag. "I have a rape whistle."