Over and over again ➵ j.s

1- "...i have something to tell you, please don't be angry with me"

1- "...i have something to tell you, please don't be angry with me"
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I stepped off the plane with the familiar weather conditions, smells and sights hitting me all at once. London, we meet again. Gatwick airport, right in front of me. This was the sight 4 years ago, I never thought I'd see again.

I walked down the steep, metal aircraft stairs. Nobody could understand the relief I felt to be back on British turf once again. The grey side walks, turned into black pavements, Mom turned to Mum, chips turned to crisps. It was amazing to get back this sense of normality again. It's been long awaited.

I gripped onto the handle of my carry-on and wheeled it to the nearest terminal entry. Through those doors and past baggage claim, Joseph Graham Sugg will be stood there waiting for me. The excitement took over me and I speedily walked into Gatwick airport.

After what felt like a lifetime, I found my case. I retrieved it from the conveyer belt and pulled my cases along in a horrific fashion. My travel bag and case clanged together repeatedly as I walked as fast as I could, slow enough to make myself not look silly or unusual though. I stepped through the doors.

There he was. Joe held a white cardboard sign with "LAYLA DAVIDSON" scribbled across it in black sharpie. A smile grew upon his face when he caught a glimpse of me and walked slowly towards me.

"Hurry up dude!" I shouted, letting go of my bags and running the short distance to his arms. "Don't get American on me, sweetheart", he said sweetly, stumbling back a little with my force. He wrapped one toned arm around my neck and placed his palm into the back of my head, pushing my head lightly into his chest.

"I missed you", I whisper tightening my grip on him. He doesn't respond but instead pulls me closer to him.

After a few moments past, I broke the hug and turned to retrieve my bags. "Let me take one of those", he says in his strong Wiltshire accent. He takes the heaviest case off of me and begins to wheel it away as I follow him.

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We packed up Joe's BMW and we both slid into opposite sides of car. I immediately darted for the right side, taking a moment for me to realise I wasn't in America anymore and that us Brits drive on the different side, "Oops, my bad." I blushed and took the walk of shame to the other side.

The whole drive to Joe's apartment we caught up with each others lives and what had happened when I was away. Just before I thought I'd caught up on everything, we pulled up outside the 'Jaspar pad'. Joe switched off the engine and faced me. "Ok, I have something to tell you, please don't be angry with me." I furrowed my brows and turned myself round to face him. Whatever this is, I can tell it's not going to be good. "Proceed", I answer, in a highly concerned voice.

"I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this the whole drive here, but just couldn't think of a way to say it." By this point my anxiety levels had reached an all time high, my heart was beating and felt as though it could burst out any moment and splatter all over Joe's new car. "You know Zoë's friend," he began, "Kaylee?" I nodded slowly, my head beginning to join in with the thumping. "Well, I've been seeing her quite a lot recently a-and..." My heart stopped. My head stopped. But my anxiety levels had risen way higher than what I thought was possible. "She's your girlfriend", I managed to squeeze the dreaded words out my mouth. He gave me a guilty nod.

I had been on a few dates whilst in America, dated a few guys. Never had I gone so far as having a boyfriend. Fuck, I've never experienced this sort of pain in my entire life.