I See London, I See France

London, England Part 6

She freezes but doesn't give herself away. "What's he doing?"

"Walking toward us. Should I laugh or something? Pretend we're having a great time? Pretend you've just said something incredibly witty?"

"Yes, please."

"Ha, ha, ha!" I force a massive smile. "We're having such a great time! You've just said something so incredibly witty! Now do you want me to casually leave?"

"No, please."

Matt says something to the guy beside him, and I realize that it's the cute guy I saw looking at the books, and that he must be the person traveling with Matt. They probably met up in the terminal. The guy's hair is straight and dark brown, almost black, and he's tall. Taller than Matt, anyway. Square jaw. Dark eyebrows. Perfectly smooth olive skin.

He's kind of hot. Actually, he's really hot. Why have I never seen him in any of Leela's photos? I'd rather look at him than a plate of poutine.

"He's with a really hot guy," I say.

"Huh?" she asks. "Is it Jackson?"

"I don't know who Jackson is," I say. "But maybe?"

The guy-who-is-possibly-Jackson spots his backpack—it's a deep red—at another conveyor belt and hoists it over his shoulder in one swoop.

Leela closes her eyes. "I can't believe he's traveling with Jackson."

I know there's a story here, and I am looking forward to hearing it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my spankin' new backpack and leap over to pick it up. It's pale blue with black stitching and lots of zippers, and it has adjustable arm straps and a band that I can snap around my waist, which will supposedly help distribute the bag's weight. Am I really going to wear this on my back for over four weeks? Or is that more of a figure of speech?

Also, now I have two backpacks: the small one I'm already wearing on my back and a huge one. My plan was to roll the small one up and pack it when it wasn't in use, but I can't exactly do that here. I'm going to have to wear one on my back and one on my front. That'll be super attractive. Maybe I'll wait until Hot Jackson is no longer in the vicinity.

"Hello again," Matt says as the two of them approach us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Leela replies drily. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. "Sydney, this is Jackson. Jackson, Sydney. Syd, I believe you already met Matt."

"We go way back," I say. "All the way to row thirty. Hi there, Jackson. We missed you on our flight."

"I flew from Vancouver," he says, turning toward me. "But I hear yours was a party."

"It was definitely wild and crazy," I say, smiling.

He smiles back, and I realize I am no longer the third wheel. Jackson and I are in this drama together.

Leela shakes her head and glares at Matt. "I can't believe you're crashing my trip."

I'm not sure how I feel about Matt, but I may not mind Jackson crashing my trip.

"I'm not crashing," Matt says. "I'm going to Europe. With Jackson. I already had the ticket. Trust me, I tried really hard to switch the ticket to leave from Toronto, but I couldn't make it happen. I'm sure our plans will be completely different, so don't worry."

"They better be. How long are you staying in London?" Leela asks, eyes narrowed.

"Four nights."

Her jaw clenches.

I spot Leela's suitcase coming our way. She's using one of those duffel bags on wheels, instead of a backpack. She had decided backpacks were dorky. I completely disagree. Backpacks are awesome.