The Luggage // hemmings

Ch. 1: "Who Ding Dong'd in Your Potatoes?"

Jilly

"I love you too, mom...I'll be home in a few hours...I love you more, mom. Bye." I ended the call and sat in a comfy airport chair, staring at the ceiling.

My best friend Katelyn and I had spent our summer in London. Kate had actually been looking at colleges here, and she'd asked me to come with her so I could help her decide. She also wanted me to help her pick out cute British guys.

I was more into Australian boys. Cute British boys -- like One Direction, I guess, if you were into that kind of thing -- were cool, but kind of cliché, if you asked me.

Maybe the reason why Kate preferred British boys and why I preferred Australian was because of our favorite bands. Kate was in love with One Direction and I was in love with 5 Seconds of Summer. She was a Louis girl, and I was a Luke girl.

Well, actually I loved all of them. Some days I was a Luke girl, other days a Calum girl, a Michael girl, an Ashton girl. Some days I wanted all of them.

"Did your mom call you again, Jil?" Kate leaned her head against my shoulder. She blew a bubble from some gum she stole from me. She popped it. "That's, like, the fourth time in, like, an hour."

I fished my headphones out of my bag and plugged them into my phone. I pressed the cute little triangle that you pressed when you wanted to play your music.

"This is only the second time she's called," I said.

Kate shrugged, falling asleep on my shoulder. Our flight was at four in the morning, London time, and we had gotten here at one, so we were both exhausted. She pressed a crumpled twenty into my open hand.

"Go get me some Starbucks."

I shrugged her head off my shoulder, and laughed when her head hit the chair's armrest with a soft thud.

She massaged her head with one hand as the other hand waved me away. I was needing some airport Starbucks myself, so I went.

It was a long line: there were three large families, two groups of white, teenaged girls, and some scary-looking business people.

How is this line so long? I thought to myself. It was two o'clock in the morning. Seriously. The line continued to grow behind me so I distracted myself with Twitter.

Soon enough I got to the front of the line -- well, as far as I could get with a group of five teenaged girls arguing in front of me.

"You WHAT?!" a blonde girl suddenly screamed, dropping her cup. It hit the ground, and some of the drink splashed onto a brunette girl.

"Why do you care?!? You guys broke up, like, five weeks ago!!" the brunette screamed back.

From behind me I could hear people groaning in annoyance and frustration. They were tossing up remarks like "shut up," and "Get out of the Hoover Dam line," and "Move your flat ass." They were actually quite entertaining. I casually covered my mouth so nobody could see that I was laughing.

I wasn't the only one who thought it was funny. A low chuckle from behind me came from a really tall guy in pretty much black everything: black shirt tight enough to see a little muscle definition, black jeans that showed off his extremely long legs, black Vans, black sunglasses (which was stupid, since it was probably half past two in the morning, and we were indoors). The only thing about him that wasn't black was his hair -- he was blonde -- and he his that under a black snapback. He wore it backwards.

I didn't really like snapbacks, except when Luke Hemmings wore his. He was pretty much the only exception for me.

This possibly punk/goth guy was kind of attractive though, even though I couldn't see half of his face.