Blame It On Gravity

California Dreaming

“Welcome to Los Angeles, California. The current temperature is sixty-eight degrees and the current time is two p.m. We hope you enjoyed your flight with us, and enjoy your stay in the City Of Angels,” the intercom said as the plane rolled to a stop. I buckled myself out of my seat, and reached over my head to take my backpack down. I frowned as I realized that when I got on the plane, I just shot it like a basketball and because of my small frame, I needed some help.

“Need help?” a voice asked from behind me, as if reading my mind.

I turned around and was met with a gorgeous man. He stood a good half foot taller than me. My eyes widened but I quickly regained my composure. “Yes please,” I said with the slight British accent I’ve developed. He flashed his pearly whites at me as I stepped out of the way and let him grab it for me. I smiled at the scent that greeted my nostrils. It was a manly yet sweet smell.

“Here you go,” he flashed his smile again at me as he handed me my backpack.

“Thank you so much,” I said to him, flashing a smile.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned. “So, are you visiting someone here?” he asked, as we made our move forward in line where a couple had been struggling to pack their things.

“I suppose you could say that,” I said as I fixed my backpack and camera bag, and took out my cell phone once we finally made it out of the plane into a wider space.

“Do you need directions?” he offered.

I shook my head at him. “My brothers will be meeting me here,” I told him. “Thank you though,” I smiled.

“Alright, you sure? I have to go, so it’s your last chance,” he said to me, glancing at his phone and back at me as he walked backwards. I nodded and waved at him, he flashed his pearly whites again as he scurried off to another direction. I sighed as I looked around me. No change whatsoever, LAX will always be packed no matter what.

I picked up my bags from the carousel and put them in a cart as I looked for the familiar exit, and I was relieved it was located in the same area and I wasn’t lost. Let’s be honest, I’m short. I stand at only five foot three and with a crowd this big, I was bound to get lost.

I saw a familiar figure as I took a deep breath and found some open space. I waved to get their attention, and when I did - he smiled wide at me. That same exact smile that the men in our family had.

“Tristan!” I screamed as I ran towards my brother and tackled him in a bear hug. Tristan and Nate - my two idiotic yet loveable brothers - decided to move to South California last year for Tristan’s senior year in high school to live with Nate who had been working for our parents. This year, my senior year, my parents agreed to send me to California to stay with my brothers (with months worth of begging from both my brothers and myself, of course).

My brother then set me back down on the ground. “Are you still growing?” I asked him with a pout.

“Do I seem like it?” he asked, ruffling my hair. I glared at him, and he put his hands up in surrender.

I remember that the last time I saw him, I was up to his shoulder, not his armpits. I just frowned and nodded at him. 

“You’ve picked up an accent,” he commented with a slight teasing smile. I just rolled my eyes at him. “Hey, short girls are cute!” 

“It’s not cool being short,” I huffed silently – remembering the struggle I had getting through the crowd.

“What? You wanna be my height?” he asked with a laugh as he grabbed the cart, and lead the way. “You’ll find a hard time looking for a guy if you were my height,” he laughed and abruptly stopped. “Wait, actually, that sounds tempting,” he paused for a second.