Nice faces greeted us as we stepped off the plane. Barely getting a wave to the pilot, I put my hands on my knees, trying not to throw up.
"In NEW YOOOOOOOORKKKKK!" Olivia hollered, stepping off the plane with her arms outstretched.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cameron stood behind me, rubbing my back softly. "Sing it, Alicia."
"Fuck you, Camera. I sound good."
"Just like Alicia." I added breathlessly.
"Shut up, baby daddy." She flipped me off, picking my bag up in the same motion.
"Don't tease the sick." Violet's voice came from behind me.
"I'll give her the bird for you, Y/N."
"You're a saint, Cam." I heaved, staring at the ground as my stomach lurched.
Thank god she had tied my hair back on the flight, putting it in a loose top knot.
"You'll get over it, chief." Violet sniggered, scooping Cameron's bag off the ground. I noticed she had her guitar on her back.
"Y'all mean as hell. Don't act like you ain't scared of wasps."
"They can kill you!" She called as she got further away.
I slowly lifted up, standing completely still before shaking my head. I noticed everyone, except Cameron, had went ahead.
"I hate flying."
"If you get big, you'll have to fly everywhere." She smiled sympathetically.
"Then I'm saying no thank you." I joked.
"It's too late babes." She giggled, rubbing my back some more as I hung my head in mock disappointment.
Cameron was the only one, minus myself, who didn't get queasy easily. When Olivia or Violet get drunk, normally we would make sure they're ok. However, the "super pair" couldn't do the same, as they'd throw up at the thought of seeing puke.
"Do they even know where they're going?"
"Nope, but you know Olivia is like Dora."
"Always finds her way." I droned, memories of hide and seek at Cameron's flashing through my head. "I know."
We quickened our pace, catching up to them in no time. I saw my manager checking his watch, eyebrows furrowed.
"There should be a car pulling up any moment according to the emails I received." I grinned at the slight annoyance in his tone.
If it were anyone else, they wouldn't have caught it due to his monotone voice. Only through years of hanging, chilling, and knowing him have I learned the quirks to the so called "Public Frank". For example, he hated when people were late. The only way you'd know, however, was the taps he did on his upper thigh, and the slight raise of his voice.
