Today was the day I was heading to America for my best friend’s wedding that would take place in a week. I was her maid of honor, so I had to be there a week before.
I was in a rush to get to the airport. My flight leaves in 30 minutes and I was stuck in traffic jam.
"Sir, do you know how much longer it’ll take to get to the airport?"
"Well… Traffic’s moving a bit faster, so I think about 15 minutes."
"My flight leaves in 30 minutes, is there any chance you can take a short cut?" I asked.
"Yes ma’am."
I got to the airport 20 minutes before my flight leaves. I see a long line, so I run with my suitcase, then I bump suitcases with someone else. Our suitcases fall and I pick mine up, as he does the same.
"I’m so sorry." I said, looking up to see a blonde man. Adult? Teen? Definitely a teen. He had such blue eyes that made me stare longer than I thought I should.
"It’s fine." He said, smiling.
No time for flirting Lauren, you have a flight to catch in less than 20 minutes.
When I picked up my suitcase back up, it felt more lighter than I thought. Nothing fell out, right? I looked back and checked if anything fell. Nothing. Weird.
—-
A dreadful 10 hours it took to get to California. I already had to suffer jet lag from London to California. A big 8 hour time difference. Oh well, my best friend decided to have her wedding in California for no reason when she could have done it in London… Can’t blame her.
I waited for my suitcase where everyone was, waiting. I was so impatient because every minute I’d find myself staring out the window seeing the sun and the words written ‘LAX’.
Finally seeing my big blue suitcase, I run and grab it. I take a cab to my hotel, pulling up, getting my room key, getting on the lift, and rush to my suite.
I scan around my hotel room. A queen sized bed, kitchen, mini fridge. Going into the washroom, I see a bath tub, shower with clear doors, 2 sinks, and a separate area for the toilet.
I’m staying here for a week and a half. This will be an amazing stay in Los Angeles.
I set my suitcase on the coffee table to grab a swimsuit. It was a hot day and I needed to get a tan, might as well.
As I open my suitcase, clothes are scattered everywhere inside the suitcase. These are non of my clothes. In fact, these are men’s clothing. Men’s shorts, trousers, shoes, snapbacks, branded t-shirts. It’s definitely not an old man’s suitcase…
Wait.
It might have been the guy I bumped into at the airport back at home. I quickly scan around his suitcase for a number, address, anything. I found a number and quickly grabbed my purse to grab my phone. I dialed the number written and waited. It took 2 rings and it picked up with a
"Hello?" Familiar irish accent from earlier.
"Hi, not sure if I called the right number, but I think I have your suitcase, and I think you have mine."
"What?"
"Have you checked your suitcase yet by any chance?" Stupid question. Obviously he hasn’t since he sounded confused.
"Hold on one sec." I hear footsteps from my phone and a zipper opening.
"Oh fuck." He whispered. "Were you the girl I bumped into at the airport?"
"Yeah… I am."
