❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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fourteen ◌ welcome to nola
✗
All the coffee in the world couldn't keep me awake. Despite the robust taste, and the high-intensity caffeine of an extra shot, the warm liquid that flowed through my veins like a ferocious tidal wave only kept me wired. I was alert enough to fight off an armed man with only my fists and a butter knife, but exhausted enough to curl up on the airport floor and knock out. The commotion of LAX was nonexistent in the early morning hours and the soft hums of the surrounding travelers grew comforting.
As I struggled to keep my eyes open, my head bobbing sporadically, I noticed a pair of legs clad in black jeans trudge by. A folded piece of paper dropped, fluttering to the floor right in front of my feet. I lifted my head in search for the source, only finding the calm airport terminal and the back of Liam's head as he strolled away.
"There's something underneath your seat," Harry's deep voice reverberated against my eardrums as his warm breath tickled my bare neck.
I met his unreadable green eyes before glancing down at the open note in his hands. The messy handwriting scribed against the back of an old Trader Joe's receipt, instructed me to check beneath the chair I was situated on. Keeping it subtle and unsuspecting, I reached down to search for whatever what Liam needed to give us.
"An envelope?" I questioned out loud, observing the square package in my hand. "Why couldn't Liam just hand this to me. He was literally siting right behind me."
"Tash, we're about to board a plane to a new city, to rob a fucking bank," Harry spoke harshly, his words dripping with aggravation. "Liam can't be seen in public passing contraband to us in public."
"Then why wait till now? He had all morning to dish out unauthorized envelops," I pointed out, my snarky tone matching Harry's.
"I don't know, maybe he forgot," Harry guessed with irritation, though something told me that he had his own theories, and was unwilling to share.
I peeled open the envelop's flap and opened the slot to reveal two plastic cards. I dug my fingers inside to pull out its contents and wielded the badges towards Harry.
"New identification," he examined the rectangular laminates with scrutiny. "Best fake I.D. I've seen," Harry paused, squinting at me in suspicion. "Why are you grinning like that? You look like Norman Bates."
I flashed my I.D. card with a smirk, physically flattered over the information on my new identity, "it says I'm one-hundred-five pounds."
"Liam definitely rounded down by a lot," Harry snorted, clearly enjoying his cynical remark.
"You're a cock waffle," I punched him in the arm, though the impact didn't seem to faze him.
I sunk into my seat waiting till we could board the plane. First and business class were granted the luxury of entering the aircraft, and fifteen minutes later, economy seats were allowed access. As I walked down the aisle of seats, passing families with tantrum-ridden toddlers, businessmen, and wild college-aged travelers, I quickly glanced down at the boarding pass in my hand. On the way to my seat, I found Liam sitting in a row next to an elderly couple. He and I made quick eye contact before returning to an engaging conversation with his seat mates.
