I had been sitting on the plane for 20 minutes now and I was starting to wonder who was going to sit next to me.
Since I'm an unaccompanied minor, they usually put me in the window seat, but this time I was by the aisle.
Maybe that man? He's walking closer and closer and... he walks past me.
I take out my phone to try and drive away the boredom. I don't notice as a girl comes and stands next to me, quietly asking if she can get in to her seat. I jump up to let her get past me, and I get a good look at her face as she squeezes past.
She's really pretty. Even though she's in a t-shirt and sweatpants and isn't wearing makeup. Even in her comfy clothes, she's prettier than any girl I've ever seen. She smiles a tired smile at me and my heart does such a weird flip in my chest, I forget to smile back.
Dammit, Will! Now she's going to think you don't like her!
She sits down and takes out her iPod and headphones, but only puts one earbud in. I would guess she's older than me, maybe 17.
I want to talk to her. But what do I say? We sit in silence for a few minutes while I work up the courage to say something to her. Just do it, Will! And I finally do.
"Where are you coming from?"
She turns to me and takes out her earbud.
"Sweden." She says with an American accent, and my heart melts a little more. Accents are my weakness.
"So you're going home now, then?" I ask.
"Yes, I was there visiting friends."
"How long were you there for?"
"There weeks." And the conversation continues for a while before I realize I don't even know her name.
"What's your name? I'm Will."
"Olivia." She says. Olivia. In that moment it becomes my favorite name. It's a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl.
We continue to talk. I tell her that I'm from New Castle, and that I'm going to visit my Aunt Karen and my uncle in Minneapolis for two weeks. We talk about politics and how scary it is with Trump running for President. We talked about our schools, she goes to a small school in a small town. I told her I'm planning on transferring to a privae school this year.
I told her I wanted to become a lawyer and go to college in the States, either in L.A. or New York, which just so happens to be the places she wants to go to college to get a degree in criminal justice so she can be an FBI agent.
We talked about sports. I told her that I was in American football and tennis and that I had been to Wimbledon, where I saw the first police officer with a gun, which surprised her because all the police officers have guns in the States.
She told me she's in basketball and track, but basketball is her passion. We talked about our favorite school subjects and the dfferences between our school systems.
She told me she was going to bible camp soon, which sparked my curiosity. We don't really have camps back home. She told me about night games and chapel and how much fun she always has.
This led to her telling me she's a Christian. I told her I was agnostic, watching her eyes as I did, hoping that she wasn't like other Christians I had met, who shunned all non-Christians. But she didn't seem to care, which only made me like her more.
Talking about religion led to talking about opinions on premarital sex. She said she would only do it if it's a pretty serious relationship, and I agreed.
It was so easy to talk to her. The conversation just kept flowing. I don't know what love is, but it felt like I was falling in love. The way that my heart exploded every time she smiled. Every time she spoke, my ears begged for more of that magical sound. And when she laughed, oh god. When she laughed, that wonderful laugh, it was all I could do to stop myself from leaning over and kissing her. When she talked about things she was passionate about, her eyes would light up with a light that I wish I could bottle up and take with me, because as long as I had that light, there was no way anything bad could happen.
When the movies on the plane became available we talked about which ones we liked and I learned that she's a big reader. Her eyes were especially bright when taking about books.
But too soon the plane took off and conversation fizzled out, both of us settling in and finding a movie to watch.
Hour after hour passed without us speaking again. Sitting inches from each other in silence. Inches that I wanted so badly to disappear.
I would steal glances at her when she wasn't looking, memorizing the way that her hair would fall over her face and the way that she would brush it away. I would memorize the way she would tap the beat out with her finger when she listened to get music. Memorize the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to sleep.
As the plane landed, it occured to me that I needed to get her number. Or I would never talk to her again. And that was too painful a thought to fathom. I'd known her for a mere ten hours, but living without her was unimaginable.
But we were rushed off the plane and through customs before I could say a word. And the next thing I knew her family was hugging her and my cousins were hugging me and we were pulled apart.
As a pulled myself away, I got one last glance of Olivia before she turned the corner. And unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, she looked back, too.
I thought about her a lot in the days that followed. Hoping that by some miniscule chance we would run into each other while we were in the same country. The same continent.
It's months later and I still think about her every day. Olivia. My only hope now is that by some chance we meet again in college. But even if we don't, I'll always remember her. The first girl I fell in love with. And I hope that she still thinks of me, too.
