UNEDITED
After violating campus rules and committing student misconduct, twenty-three-year-old Warren Ashford is deep trouble and at risk of losing his volleyball scholarship -- the one thing he truly values other than his bad boy reputation, and hi...
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Nova
I have never had a problem with crowds or being claustrophobic, but airports manage to get to me every time. Although I will admit, this is only the third time in my life I have ever ridden an aeroplane.
It's not just the impending terror of the ride ahead, but also the airport itself. There are too many people, both customers and workers, the noise never stops, and the whole process of acquiring your boarding passes, going through security, and then finding the gate you're meant to be at is maddening.
Those are several concepts I try not think about as I stand helplessly beside Warren, watching as he makes the older lady working at the check-in desk laugh with his disgustingly attractive charm.
A sliver of me had been hoping that an extraordinary, dramatic scenario, such as a summer snowstorm or an arresting virus, would have prevented me from joining in on this trip and flying to New Brunswick with Warren. They're all perfectly good reasons as to why he wouldn't be able to use me as his fake girlfriend. Today, however, is a different story; it's the clearest day I have ever seen in Vancouver, and my body feels excellent after today's early morning spin class.
The fact that no direct flights to Halifax were available this weekend makes me think the world is trying to test me, see how long I can handle Warren Ashford and his immature shenanigans before I crack. I have to give him props, though, because he did try to convince Hazel that missing the annual Canada Day barbeque wouldn't be a big deal. But Hazel was adamant about us joining, so she scheduled us a flight to New Brunswick and was quick to make sure a rental car was available for us upon arrival. After Warren caved and agreed, there was no going back.
So here we are, standing at the check-in desk of Vancouver International Airport and getting ready to head to the gate where our aeroplane to Saint John, New Brunswick is located on the opposite end of the terminal.
We'll also have to go through security, but the airport doesn't seem all that busy today, so it shouldn't be a problem. Even so, it would be the last thing on my mind. The real problem is the fact that I have to spend seven hours and twenty minutes sitting beside Warren on a stuffy aeroplane. God knows what we're going to talk about while we sit there, defying gravity and careening through the air.
"Where are you off to?" the lady asks.
"Halifax," Warren replies, handing me the passports. I stuff them in my bag. "My hometown."
The lady is now working on the keyboard of her computer with a lazy intensity, tapping the keys one-by-one and chewing on her bottom lip. "Oh, I love Halifax," she says, retrieving the printed boarding passes. "The seafood there is to die for."
"That," Warren says, taking the boarding passes. "Is what I miss most about my hometown. Other than my family, of course." He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close, my hip bumping against his, and plants a kiss on my cheek. I do my best not to flinch away in antipathy, but it's a reflexive move and I can't stop myself. "My girlfriend and I are heading back to attend my sister's wedding. It's going to be fantastic. What better way to introduce my baby girl to the family?"
