Green Eyes

Hi. So I wrote this on Tumblr and somebody a while back suggested I should put it on Wattpad. So I am. Hope y'all enjoy. 

Chapter 1

“Good afternoon, folks, we’ve officially touched down in Los Angeles, California, local time 2:36 pm. Thank you for flying American Airlines, and enjoy your stay.” The captain buzzed off the intercom, and all over the jetliner, people started stretching, packing up bags, opening overhead bins. Up ahead, the plane door opened with a gentle swoosh, and a flight attendant helped people across into the tunnel that would lead into LAX. 

Nervously, I slipped back on my flats and smoothed down my hair, checking to make sure I still had my carry-on with me. This was the first time I was flying by myself, and I was a little overcautious. Especially because this flight had been more than an hour late, making it a pretty close shave to my connecting flight that would transmit me across the Pacific to Japan. 

Shuffling off the plane, I emerged into the blinding light of the enormous airport. People walked purposefully through the terminals, knowing exactly where they were headed and what they would do. I was lost, confused, and - oh shit. I had ten minutes before my connecting flight was supposed to take off. If I was stranded in LA… I shuddered at the thought. I was thousands of miles away from my home in Louisiana and didn’t know a soul in the city. My entire family had already flown over to Japan. I was armed only with my suitcase and a single credit card that probably wouldn’t last too long. And I was only eighteen, which meant I was too young to rent a hotel room or a car. 

Frantically checking the screens for my gate number, I realized that my next gate would be in a totally different terminal of the airport. I had no idea how to get there. Sprinting, I followed signs blindly, praying that I would somehow end up in the right place. Gate 1D, 1D, 1D! 

And then suddenly I saw it: those numbers posted above…an empty gate. A single flight attendant was manning the stand, the doors to the tunnel closed behind her. A blue-striped plane was slowly taxiing out of the runway. 

“Wait!” I shouted desperately. “Wait! That’s my plane!” 

The flight attendant looked up, looking bored. “Sorry, hon. Plane’s gone.” 

“No, there must be a mistake…You don’t understand, I’ve got to be on that plane! I don’t have anywhere else to go!” 

The flight attendant looked at me with a not-my-problem glare and shrugged, pointedly turning away from me. I sighed, feeling close to tears. She was right; that plane was gone. 

Calm down Lana, I thought to myself. Just get yourself another ticket and get your ass to Japan. I hadn’t the faintest idea where to even start. 

Spotting a little magazine shop nearby, I walked morosely over. I needed water and a little bit of food before I could find a ride over the Pacific. Mind working, I studied the glossy magazine titles with little interest. 

Suddenly, something interrupted my daze. That familiar tap-tap-tapping sound. Something I had heard a million times over the years - 

“Paradiddle?” I blurted before I could stop myself. I looked up. A decent looking guy with a generic sort of brown hair and a beat-up baseball cap on had been tapping a pen on the counter as he studied the same magazine rack I had been looking at. He looked up, surprised. 

“Yeah! How’d ya know?” he asked, sounding impressed. I smiled a little. Most guys were pretty surprised to see a girl playing drums, but I had learned since I was little and played marching drums and drumset pretty well. More than pretty well, in fact. 

“I’m a drummer too,” I explained. “Nice wrists.” This was a pretty major compliment for any drummer, and I really did mean it. Those paradiddles had been clean and fast. 

“Nice wrists?” The guy laughed like I had insulted him. “Thanks, but do you know who I am? I play professionally.” 

I raised my eyebrows, a little put off by his cocky tone. He had a thick British accent and a swaggery sort of way about him. But I wasn’t a girl about to be pushed around. 

“Well, I’m pretty good myself,” I couldn’t help saying back, “and honestly…your lefts are a little off.” 

He stared at me, his expression stuck between anger and laughter. Finally he just offered me the pen. “Give it a go, then.” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I checked my watch - I really should be finding some tickets, but I could never resist a chance to show off my skills. “Here.” I played a few single paradiddles, changed to double, then triple. Then, just because I felt a little cocky - a flam paradiddle-diddle. I handed the pen back to him. 

He smirked. “Alright, well you’ve got some pretty good rudiments, I guess. Are you a pro too?” His accent and his smile seemed a little more gorgeous as he talked. I was always a little too attracted to other drummers. 

“No, just for fun,” I said. I grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge and headed to the counter. To my surprise, he followed me. He extended a hand. 

“Josh Devine.” 

The name sounded vaguely familiar in an odd way, and now that I thought about it, so did his face. But maybe he just had one of those universal looks. 

“Lana.” I shook his hand calmly. 

“You still don’t recognize me then?” Josh raised his eyebrows. “I know I’m not the boys but I thought most teenage girls knew me by now!” 

“You’re famous then?” I asked skeptically, handing my credit card to the cashier and eyeing him up and down. He didn’t look very famous - he was wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Yeah! Ever heard of One Direction?” He picked up a random magazine and pointed to the five faces on the cover. “I’m their drummer!” 

I glanced at the cover. Of course I had heard of One Direction, and I had heard all the fangirl stories on the news. They were the latest big boy band that had crazed girls worldwide. I wasn’t one of those girls - growing up in a town known for its indie music scene, I had been exposed to more Arctic Monkeys and The Black Keys than pop. 

“That’s cool,” I said, making an effort to sound sincere. Obviously, this guy thought he was some hot shit. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him he wasn’t impressing me. 

He still looked aghast, like I had told him I didn’t know my own name. “But…it’s One Direction!” He shook the cover in my face. 

“They’re…cute,” I replied, smiling and enjoying his obvious flustering a little. 

“I have never in my life…” Josh trailed off, smiling and shaking his head. “Lana, then? Right, well where are you headed?”

“Japan. Well, I was supposed to be headed to Japan. Now I’m stranded here without a ticket or a family,” I muttered, all my problems suddenly rushing back. “God, I’m so fucked.” 

“Well,” Josh said, “looks like you’ve got some extra time. Come with me for a bit. We’ll help you sort your mess out. I want the boys to meet you, they’ll never believe that a girl didn’t know them. And a pretty girl at that!” He grabbed my hand  and began pulling me out of the store. 

I let myself be pulled along, not knowing what else to do.