Going Nowhere

Troublemaker - 2

~~~

Excuse the mistakes

~~~

He leaned down and brushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his breath warm and inviting. “I want you so bad, Bridget, it hurts.”

“I want you, too,” I breathed, and I found myself hypnotized by his electric blue eyes and the way my name rolled of his tongue. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to his shirtless, chiseled chest.

“We don’t have much time,” he said huskily, “and I need to have you just once.”

“We—” My words were cut off as he started trailing kisses down my neck towards my collarbone, and everywhere his lips touched turned hot. “I can’t. If my parents find out…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, and I looked up into Ryan Gosling’s eyes as he said, “I love y—”

There was a sharp pain in my back that caused my eyes to snap open.

I looked around as my heart started to slow down from having the crap scared out of me, and I was brought back to reality. I was in a plane, specifically coach, sandwiched between two obese males. One of them was snoring loudly and drooling, and the other was at least forty and playing Mario Kart on a PSP.

I felt a sharp pain in my back once again, and I realized that it was coming from behind me. More specifically, it was coming from a kick to the back of my chair. I boosted myself up and swiveled around to see a six-year-old boy with a giant, toothless grin on his face.

“Can you stop kicking my chair, please?” I asked sweetly.

“Can you stop kicking my chair, please?” the little boy asked mockingly, and my smiled turned right upside down into a frown.

“Excuse me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” he repeated, using the same nasally, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that was really starting to piss me off.

I glanced at the empty seats on either side of the little shit and asked, “Where’s your mother?”

“Where’s your mother?”

“Cut that out!”

“Cut that out!”

“I swear to god I will—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please buckle your seatbelt. We now are beginning our descent.”

“You got lucky,” I hissed, jutting my pointer finger at the boy, and he stuck his tongue out at me as I turned and slid back into my seat.

I tightened my already buckled seat belt and gripped the armrests of the chairs I was seated in as the airplane dipped into a dive. My stomach rose to my throat, and I started breathing like I was in labor.

Today had been completely awful.

My mom had gotten driven me at eleven last night to get to a redeye flight at the airport, which was one of three airports where I had spent my day waiting on delayed flights. My flight from Arizona had made some stupid stop in Texas, since apparently there was some weather that forced the airplane to be grounded for a couple hours. Then, from Texas, I’d gone to the Atlanta airport, where I’d hung out for another two hours before catching my current flight to the airport in New York.

Let me tell you something that you probably already know; airports suck! They’re crowded, the food areas are all greasy fast food, and you end up waiting all day for a flight that’s going to make you sick to your stomach and dizzy.