Kids In Love (Short Story)

Chapter 1

The ten-hour-long plane ride was extremely tedious.  There was a set of twins no more than five rows back from me that needed constant attention, and a five-year-old brat that wouldn’t stop kicking my seat.

When I reached the baggage claim, it was easy to find my suitcase as it was the only bright orange suitcase on the conveyer belt.

Getting the rental car was a real pain in the ass, though.  An elderly woman was attempting to help me, but since she was hard of hearing, the fact that I had a low, accented voice made it even more difficult for her to assist me.  After spending nearly forty-five minutes getting the rental car that I had ordered, it was now dark outside and I had to attempt to find the hotel I had reserved a room for while driving in the dark on unfamiliar roads in a completely different country.

I was grateful that I knew enough to not get myself killed my first time on the freeway.  Driving on the right side of the road was extremely odd.  I had driven in America before, but that wasn’t as far away from home as Santa Monica, California was.  It made me chuckle to think that the British came to America, but didn’t keep the same customs such as driving on the left side of the road.

An hour later, I had found the cheap Motel 6 that I would be living in for the next five months.  As I exited the hideous minivan that I ended up getting stuck with, I made my way to the lobby of the hotel in hopes that my room hadn’t been given away to somebody else.

The receptionist at the front desk was a middle-aged woman who wore more than enough make-up.  There were defined bags underneath her eyes and on the apples of her cheeks.  The cause of them was given to me when I watched her take the last cigarette out of its pack before grabbing another small box of them from somewhere underneath the desk she was seated behind.

“Last name,” the woman whose nametag read, ‘Delilah’ croaked out.

“Styles,” I replied with a friendly smile, turning the corners of my mouth down when she didn’t return the gesture.

As she typed through the database on her computer, I caught myself staring at her dyed black hair where the roots of her naturally colored hair were peeking out underneath the charcoal black.

“Harold?” Delilah questioned.

“Yeah,” I responded quietly, nodding my head.

“You can sit over there while filling out this paperwork,” Delilah ordered, motioning towards a hideously-patterned sofa.

I gave her one last nod before taking the clipboard and pen with me to that hideous sofa, yawning as I took a seat on the couch.  I hadn’t known what time it was in the minivan that I was rented since the digital clock above the radio read ‘eight o’clock’ and didn’t change during the entire hour that I had been driving.

My eyes scanned the room for any sign of a wall clock, but finding none.  My cell phone had been turned off since leaving London approximately eleven hours ago, and to be honest, it felt nice to not have the thing ringing and vibrating all that time.

The paperwork was fairly simple, the only trouble I had was with the license plate number on the van and having to go outside to write it down.

Once I had given Delilah the paperwork back, she handed me a room key that was on the opposite side of the hotel.  I groaned internally when she had told me that, but took the key gratefully, just wanting a place to lie down and go to sleep.

I had to drive to the back of the hotel where my room was and I was lucky enough to get a spot that was right in front of the door.  It was hell dragging in my suitcases for the next five months, but I couldn’t complain once I was finished.  After locking the hotel room door, I turned to fully take in the sight I would be seeing for quite some while.

To be frank, the room was atrocious.  The carpet was stained, the bathroom was dirty, and there was a sofa with that same God awful print as there was in the lobby.  I would learn to love it, hopefully.

I groaned aloud and flopped onto the bed, finally getting to lie down for the first time in the past eleven hours.  I sighed and retrieved my cell phone from out of the front pocket of my denim jeans.  I had promised my mum that I would call her when I got everything squared away here.

When I turned on my phone, I learned that it was just past one o’clock in the morning.  I sighed and shook my head, pulling my fingers through my hair as I dialed my mum’s number.

“Harry?” I heard the familiar voice over the line.

“Hi mum,” I answered with a smile, this was the best thing to happen all day so far.

“Is everything alright there?” she wondered, making me smile.  She was always overprotective of me.

“Yes, I just finished getting everything in the hotel room,” I replied, a yawn threading its way through my sentence.

“What time is it there?” my mum questioned.

“Twenty past one.”

“In the morning?” she asked in a surprised tone.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, glancing at the picture of a fruit bowl that was hung up on the wall beside the bed.

“Oh goodness, you need to sleep.  Thank you for calling me, honey,” she replied.

I smiled, “Good bye, Mum.”

“Call me when you wake up,” she ordered before hanging up.

I sighed after hanging up the phone with my mum.  I couldn’t believe that I was actually here, in California.  I had always wanted to travel here when I was younger to see the beaches, but money was tight in my family after my father left.

I began saving money after I got my first job to take a vacation here in the summer before I would begin going to the University of London.  I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for here, but I knew that when I got older, I would regret not coming here when I had the chance.

My head began to throb and I took that as I hint to turn off the lights and go to sleep.  I just hoped that my luck tomorrow wouldn’t be as rotten as it was earlier.