Reckless

Chapter 6

reck·less (Adj) [ rékləss ] without thought of danger: marked by a lack of thought about danger or other possible undesirable consequences

________________________________________________________________________

The cramped airplane ride only lasted two hours. The transition between airlines was a complete blur as Quentin and I literally sprinted to reach our connecting flight.

Then it was thirteen hours on the more spacious airplane before we prepared to land in New Zealand. "Passengers, we are preparing decent into Auckland, New Zealand. Please fasten your seatbelts and thank you for riding Quantas Airlines." The captain clicked off and an orchestrated sound of the seatbelt light went on. People buckled or rushed to their seats to buckle. I chuckled lightly at the few passengers that were frightened as they didn't have their buckles secured, whispering frantically as they couldn't hear the click.

I looked over to see Quentin asleep. He had been asleep for quite a while; I however couldn't find a comfortable position so I was lucky if I got a few hours of sleep. I decided I better let him sleep for as long as possible. We still had one more flight to get through, from Auckland to Adelaide.

I waited a few minutes before waking him up. "Hey, Quentin," I shook his shoulder gently, "Time to wake up, okay?" Quentin yawned and rubbed his eyes and smoothly transitioned into rubbing his temples. He made this guttural noise and stretched his arms and abdomen. Finally, he slumped back in his seat and looked at me.

"Wow, that was extremely uncomfortable." He spoke plainly.

"You're telling me," I rolled my eyes.

"Did you get any sleep," he asked, concerned.

"Um," I contemplated, "Maybe a few hours?"

"You must be exhausted," Quentin laughed. I laughed with him while the airplane dipped down and the ground grew closer. I watched patches of varying green and yellow grow larger and cars gaining speed as we descended even farther. It was about nine o'clock at night in Auckland and there was only a little light left from the sinking sun.

"Yeah, watching movies has this annoying ability to make your eyes exhausted but the seats made it impossible to fall asleep so I resorted to watching the screen infront of me," I put my finger on my personal entertainment system that everyone had," And let me tell you, watching the little airplane move over nothingness on the screen is very boring." Quentin watched the little airplane on the screen.

"You're funny when you're tired."

"Wow, I like to think that I'm funny all the time," I pretended to be offended by putting a hand over my heart and knitting my eyebrows together.

"I'm just funny all the time," Quentin brushed invisible dust off both his shoulders and I rolled my eyes.

"But you are always so serious." My voice dropped two octaves on the word serious. Quentin raised his eyebrows at my suddenly new range and opinion.

"Am not!" He protested.

"Are too!"

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay, how about sometimes." Quentin hedged. He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable.

"No! All the time!" I exclaim in protest. "You are always so serious, with your pressed shirts and dressy clothes," I paused for a second, "do you even own a pair of jeans?"

He opened his mouth then closed it again, then opened it, then closed it. "Well, do you count Barnett's jeans?"

"No! I mean like jeans from a store that doesn't cost a million dollars."

"Well then... no."

"Oh my goodness we are going shopping for some realistic clothes."

He looked down at his outfit with slight concern, "But what if I like my clothes?"

"Trust me, I like your clothes too." I held a hand out infront of me but I had managed to make Quentin even more confused.

"Well then what is the problem?"

"You plan on being a tourist in a suit everday?"

"Okay, I do not wear a suit, what's wrong with a nice shirt and khaki's?"

"Nothing, I just think that jeans would be more appropriate for walking around in."

"Alright, fine, we will do that later."

I squealed and bounced in my seat but my face flew forward and hit the headrest infront of me when the plane landed roughly on the runway. "Umph," my brain felt like it had been dropped to my stomach and my stomach dropped to my toes.. I looked over to see Quentin sitting contently and supressing a laugh that was threatening to burst out.

"I fly a lot," he explained. He held his laughter just enough to speak then broke all attempts to hold in laughter. It was the first time I had heard his deep, rich laughter, and one of the first times he really didn't look completely composed.

"I can tell," I grumbled quietly and folded my arms over my chest while immaturely glaring. We were able to unbuckle and exit after the plane rolled to a stop and the crew rushed around to make sure everything was ready. When able, Quentin and I stood up and occupied a portion of the isle. I stretched my arms infront of me and yawned wide. It took a few minutes before we were walking through two flight attendants with fake smiles plastered on their faces, thanking us and wishing us safety. Instinctively, I thanked them but only did so quietly.

The hallway connecting the airplane to the airport was crowded with anxious passengers to be in a place with more than mere inches between another person. It wasn't long before we walked out into the spacious Auckland Airport.

We were in New Zealand, but unfortunately it was dark, so we couldn't see outside. Most walls were made of complete window. I wished so badly to be able to see outside, to experience a climate other than one in the United States; my first opportunity and outside was pitch black.

Involuntarily, I yawned. Quentin caught sight of it and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Another yawn overpowered my response, preventing me from forming words clearly. At first everything came out in a garbled mess but once I had stopped I repeated myself. "Yeah, I'm good," despite my comment I could already feel my eyelids pushing down, wanting so desperately to shut and never open again. I was half asleep by the time we got to the next area where we would board. I plopped down on the closest seat and Quentin took the seat on my right.

"We have a six hour delay." He informed me, unaware that everything just went in to one ear and then out the other.

"Hmm, okay." I sighed and then- without even thinking twice- laid my head on Quentin's shoulder, and I was out before I could gather his response.