meet you there

visit

I always find it difficult to pack for trips longer than a weekend. Should I pack for every day I'm there or should I have a few tops, bottoms, and shoes to mix match so as to satisfy the image in my head that morning? Seemingly insignificant problems, I know, but for someone with what I call OC, ("Obsessive Compulsive" because I really don't have the disorder in full) it's hard to plan that far ahead knowing I take 15 minutes every morning to pick the most harmonic outfit for whatever I have planned. My brother invited me to stay with him in California this fall, (I'm meeting him in Denver first) claiming that the first and only college graduate of the Hinson kids deserves a break from "boring Texas and shitty school." For the record, I love my home unlike Thomas who left after his first son was born to escape our father who I haven't talked to since I turned 18. I stayed to attend Texas A&M where I just majored in Animal Science and was accepted into Veterinary School. Little victories. Other than that, I like the slow-moving atmosphere. If you've ever been to California, it's far from slow.
My mind wanders amidst folding. What if I meet someone? I always find myself asking this stupid question because I'm a hopeless romantic who has never been in a relationship. It really is pathetic. I'm 22 and have yet to meet anyone real. It's completely on me, too. Four years of college and my only friend was my roommate Juliana so we never really left the apartment. She's engaged now but still enjoys spending time with me for some unknown reason. At least I can say I made one friend while I was there.
A phone call interrupts my sulking, making me sigh in relief.
"Paige!"
I pull the phone away from my ear, wincing from the noise.
"Yes, Thomas?"
"I just wanted to ask what you wanted to do this week. I saw that there are a couple of bands nearby or we could head to the slopes before it gets too cold and we're taken over by tourists. I figured you'd be more keen to see a band considering you might be performing worldwide one day." His voice lowered to a whisper. I sighed. "I'm just saying. You have a voice that I know people would love to hear. But again, it's up to you lil' sis. We're just excited to see you."
"Thanks. I'll think about it. I'll probably just want to hang out when I get there seeing that I prefer to sit inside when it's cold. It'll be nice to see everyone. But for now, I should probably get back to packing so I actually have something to wear when I'm over there. I'll see you later."
"See you soon..."
I hung up the phone, biting my lip and exhaling loudly. I love that singing and playing music allows me to really be myself but my stage fright is so overbearing that I can't even sing in front of my own brother. It was by accident that he heard me.
Suddenly, a timer on my phone goes off, letting me know that it's time to check into my flight. Yes, I am packing the day before I leave. Nasty habit. I pull up the United app, tapping until I finally reach the check-in page. My brother bought the seats so this is more of a reveal than anything. I know it's a non stop flight but I have no idea how long I'll have to be on an air demon. Flying kind of scares me but we'll forget about that for now. The screen finally loads to show that I'm in 2A. I squint, searching my memory for whether or not Thomas had mentioned that he had gotten me first class seats. Nothing comes to mind. I can't believe it. I scramble to call him back, not realizing the time. No answer. He's undoubtedly asleep.
"Fuck," I whisper under my breath. I know he's trying to do something nice for me given all the crap I've been through over the past few years. He felt guilty for just leaving. I thought the concert offer was the payback, but I'm starting to think that there's more to these gifts. One expense makes things even. Two means something else is going on.
I finish rolling all of my clothes into their places and head into the bathroom, grabbing my over-night bag and stuffing all of my everyday remedies into it, from toothpaste to contact solution to makeup to excedrin. I look back at the excedrin, taking it out and popping two down my throat, followed by a melatonin, before laying down to sleep. I hadn't even noticed it was already 6 in the morning. I told you I take a long time to pack.

The Office theme music suddenly bursts from my phone, waking me at two. I decided to start my break today rather than tomorrow so I could sleep in. Thank God I did. I need to be at the airport in five or so hours, but for now, I need breakfast and a morning spill into my journal.
I started writing lyrics back in eighth grade. It was a rough year and my pen to paper was easier than talking to anyone about what I was feeling.
I close my eyes.
"The world still spins around me."
Purse my lips.
"The blur of color and light surrounds me."
Ears ring.
"I'm falling, no breaking out."
Eyes heavy.
"Alone, I'm shouting. Who's gonna hear me now?"
I exhale hard, shaking my pen side to side before dropping it and standing up to stretch. Just another day producing dark lyrics and feeling completely alone.
I open Instagram, swiping aimlessly down my feed, falling upon a post from 5 Seconds of Summer from the day they had performed in Houston. It's funny. They quoted a song by Queen. I mindlessly begin humming Killer Queen, tapping my finger on the side of my phone and opening each of the members of the band's pages. I admired their music, their new album especially. It spoke to me. Every song has a story and I felt like it was mine somehow. I just don't think I could write it that way.
Youngblood.
I close my journal, clipping my pen to the front page, and throwing it on top of my backpack. I grab a jacket, slightly annoyed that I have to bring one since I'm staying in Denver for a couple nights.
Time flies.
It's only and hour from when I need to be at the airport.
"Hey Siri, call 'Big Brother.'"
The phone rings slowly, taunting my imagination to run. It almost escapes its leash before I hear his voice.
"What's up sis?" I hear him giggle and mutter something else in the background. Perhaps he's wrestling one of the boys; after all Oliver just turned 7 and Nate is 4.
"I was just gonna ask if you could do the run down with me one last time. So, will you?"
Almost as though he'd been waiting for me to ask, he quickly runs through the list of things I told him I needed to pack, not missing a single item. I have everything but I still feel as though I'm missing something.
The airport is 45 minutes away so I grab my unreasonably large suitcase, mini version of that suitcase, backpack, and purse, and stuff my air pods in my denim jacket pocket.
Not gonna lie, I look nice for a plane ride. Black and white striped shirt, high waisted and black ripped jeans, slightly over sized denim jacket, and white Vans.
My drive is always boring, besides the mini concert I put on for myself and the other drivers on the road. I jam to Queen, Green Day, Panic! at the Disco, 5 Seconds of Summer, and Twenty Øne Piløts, mindlessly and joyfully getting lost in the lyrics and melodies of songs by people who really never fit in. I feel like I belong.
Parking is never a hassle given how much I travel. I literally have a parking pass so it's just charged to my account, no issue.
I quickly make my way inside, maneuvering between travelers who clearly have never been to this airport, check my two suitcases, and print my boarding pass before making my way to security.
Something is off today. There is more commotion. More guards. A younger group of people who don't seem to have luggage.
Suddenly, they're pushed away and a few wails escape the mouths of girls who seem to be very much upset with what they're being told.
I chew my bottom lip.
"There has to be a celebrity here," I whisper to myself. "Great."
Racing through security, I get to my gate and plop myself down in an empty row of seats at my gate.
Who could it be?
Best to let it go.
Music.
Block out the curiosity.
I reach into my pocket. My air pods are no where to be found. I search restlessly through my pockets and bags only to find myself sitting in silence. They're probably in the bucket where I put my jacket.
Great, I'm alone with my thoughts.
To my surprise, my searching had taken up the few minutes I should have been waiting for the plane to be ready to board. I stand, grabbing my backpack and purse, upset with myself but relieved that I'll be able to catch up on sleep very soon.
Without my headphones, I hear my surroundings go silent for a moment. Then, without warning, the commotion returns. It draws closer.
Closer.
It found me.
Two serious-looking men surrounding four tall boys approach. Their identities feel familiar but I can't place names.
One man reaches the desk and begins to question the lady that handles upgrades and other flight issues. He appears frustrated and confused and with the looks and laughter coming from the boys, it is clear some kind of mistake was made.
It appears some resolution is made and the man returns to the very much out of place group, explaining the situation at hand. I hear three boys groan and one 'whoop' in excitement followed by playful banter.
"How come he got moved up and the rest of us have to stay in economy?"
"It's not in my control. Let's not worry about it though. It's only a two and a half hour flight. You'll live."
"They're just jealous of how much better I am than them."
"Watch it Hood. I'll take that seat if you're not careful."
The rest is unclear as the attendant calls over the intercom for all business class passengers to begin boarding.
I see the boy who had apparently gotten upgraded grin at the others as they flicked him off. He walks toward the door, scanning his boarding pass and yelling, "See you in Denver bitches!"
I giggle, hiding my smile, and then follow suit (without the dorky exclamation though).
We walk slowly down the ramp to the plane, smiling at the attendants as they welcome us aboard.
My seat is currently blocked by a very tall, confused boy.
I feel my cheeks burn slightly.
"Hey, I think I'm in the window seat."
Clearly, I caught him off guard cause he jumps a little, turning to face me. He pauses, stopping himself from what must have been a pretty witty comment.
"O-Oh. Yeah. I think I'm right next to you then." He inhales deeply, rewetting his lips and looking down at his feet.
I giggle. He's very cute.
"So are you gonna scooch or am I going to have to climb around you?"
He inhales sharply, realizing he still hasn't moved.
"Scooch. I'll scooch. I like that word."
I stick my purse in the overhead bin and shimmy my way to the window seat. It's roomy and comfortable, a pillow and blanket waiting for me on the seat.
I bite my lip, attempting to hide my smile.
He plops down in the seat next to me, staring at his hands now. I pull the sleep remedies out from under me and place them on my legs, thinking that sleep is my only option over the music I no longer get to listen to.
More people begin to file in. It's allegedly a full flight.
Soon, the three other boys that I had seen outside pile in, giving the boy dirty looks at first glance. However, they're faces began to change as they got closer. I smile at each of them and then catch a glimpse of the face of my cute neighbor.
His cheeks have grown red, dimples carved deeply into his cheeks from his smile, and fingers dancing from side to side as if some kind of enchantment has taken over him.
Each passing friend possesses a different reaction.
The first: wavy, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a red hoodie winks, showing his teeth in an attempt to push his point.
The second: straight, blond hair, fashionable glasses, and a black sweatshirt purses his lips hard and narrows his eyes playfully.
The third: curly, dirty blonde hair, tattooed on his wrists, with a button down shirt smiles rather warmly before giving me the same smile.
They continue to walk back to their seats which aren't too far back and begin to converse amongst themselves.
I turn my attention to the boy next to me. He has gorgeous tan skin, dark brown, almost black, curly hair that looks as though it hasn't been brushed in a while, captivating brown eyes, seemingly meaningful tattoos on his left arm, and a style very similar to mine.
He's staring at me. I expect him to look away after catching me meeting his stare, but he just blushes and continues. I can't help but do the same.
"I figured by now you'd probably have headphones in or sleeping so as to ignore the creepy guy sitting next to you."
"Oh no, I wouldn't say creepy and even if I thought so, I lost my air pods and I'm not as tired as I thought I would be so I guess I'll have to talk to you instead."
He chuckles but his face grows sullen when he hears some excited clamoring enter the plane. A few girls approach him, overwhelming me with their infectious giggling and the obnoxious amount of effort they put into their outfits just for this flight. They ask for pictures and he kindly responds that they should make it quick as he tilts his head toward me suggestively. I catch one of the girls giving me a face of pure hate. Wonderful.
They wrap up their pictures and hurry back to the other boys, aggravating the other passengers on the plane.
"I can't believe we actually got a picture with Calum. I didn't think we'd actually end up on the same flight."
"I told you they'd pick a later flight."
"Who's that girl?"
The boy, Calum, turns back to face me.
"So, you want to talk to me?"
It suddenly hits me. I'm on a flight with 5 Seconds of Summer. Luckily, my facial expression does not change, nor does my interest in having some kind of distractor for the flight ahead.
I nod.
"For the record," I add, "I do like your music but I will not harass y'all for pictures. Unless, of course, you want me to."
A playful grin emerges on his face. "You're from Texas, aren't you? I love that you just used 'y'all' in a sentence. That was cute."
"Your accent is cute."
What is happening? I'm talking to someone I jammed out to on the way to the airport and I hadn't even noticed that the plane had left the ground because things were going so damn well. Like why is he talking to me? And smiling? And being so damn cute? I'm not hallucinating, am I?