Chapter 32
I try to stay cool as the plane begins to land. I take a breath and loosen my grip on the armrests. When the plane touches down and begins rolling on the runway, I let out a breath. I feel exhausted due to the jet lag. The time zone difference is only three hours, but it is past my bedtime by New York hours. The plane comes to a complete stop and immediately, majority of the passengers stand and begin to take out their overhead luggage. I stand after the initial rush has died down, brushing the crumbs from my Biscoff cookie off of my lap. Then I file into the aisle and out of the plane, thanking the pilots and flight attendants on my way out. It is late, probably around nine or ten, so the sky is dark save the lights from the busy city. I get inside the enormous airport and feel lost. I am ninety nine percent sure that my dad is picking me up. I can hardly remember what he looks like. Really though, his face is like a distant memory, a person I only ever saw in photographs. I pull out my phone and text my mom letting her know that I landed safely. Then I call Calum. The phone rings several times and I think he isn’t going to pick up.
“Hello?” He asks, sleepily.
“Hey, Cal. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m in California and my plane didn’t crash or land on a deserted island or anything.” I look up at the map of the airport and head towards the baggage claim, because that is where I assume someone would meet me.
“Good. M’kay. Lots more dates in North East. Glad you’re okay. Night.”
“Night. Sleep well…” I end the call and keep my phone in my hand.
I scan the crowd of people surrounding the baggage claim for a man that looks like he could be my father. Everyone either looks too old or too young, too formal or too casual, too friendly or too mean. I sigh, wondering what the hell I am supposed to do. I could always hop a cab, get a hotel, and then plan to live my new life in California, I mean, I have a credit card and a license, I reason as I walk toward the automatic doors.
“Lee,” a man grabs my arm.
“How do you know who I am?” I ask, shaking his hand off of me.
“Your mother told me what you were wearing.”
“…Dad?” I ask, looking the man up and down.
To be honest, he doesn’t look old enough to be my dad, he looks young enough to be my boyfriend or my brother. He has the whole David Beckham trim bear, burns, and moustache working for him and his hair is slightly quaffed up. He is wearing jeans tight enough for one of the boys to wear, brown oxford, a white tee shirt, and a worn leather jacket. I imagine he’s had it since high school or college at the very least.
“Yup, come on Lee. My car is outside. It’s about a half hour drive to the house." I feel a bit hesitant, not one hundred percent sure that this man is my father.
He grabs the handle and starts wheeling it outside. He pops the trunk, tucks it into the silver CLA Mercedes Benz, and slams it down. Sitting in the passenger seat I feel the car shake. I play with my fingers and the hem of my sweater uncomfortably while my dad snaps himself in and shoves the key into the ignition.
“Lee, you can stop being so tense now. Call your mother, I’m not going to kidnap you or chop you up in my basement…”
At least now I know where my dark humor comes from. I shift uncomfortably, but my arms slacken. I fall asleep sometime on the drive to the house.
I stretch out my arms, grasping at the covers. I yawn, trying to orient myself. I understand that I am in a simple bedroom, with a bed obviously, a desk and desk chair, nightstand, and dresser. I assume that one of the doors is a closet, the second a bathroom, and the third will lead me outside. I force myself up and hazily walk to the bathroom, needing a shower more than anything. I slip out of my clothes and slide them into the corner. I place my phone on the counter by the sink, letting iTunes radio Green Day station, fill the acoustically pleasing bathroom. My hair takes a lot of brushing and conditioner to relieve from its matted state, but I manage to get it looking normal. Towel wrapped around me I go back to my room. There is a note on my freshly made bed.
“Lee, I had to run a quick business errand. Your interview is at three, I’ll be back before ten and I’ll drive you there. Clothes are in the closet for you to wear and breakfast is downstairs. See you soon…Dad.” I fold the note back up and place it on the desk.
I open the closet, which is an enormous walk in, but it is empty save one outfit. I slip into a long black skirt, sheer gray tights, a white button down, and maroon blazer. I grab my phone and wallet and carry them downstairs with the black heels. The kitchen is huge, there is a green granite island in the middle and all of the highest level appliances. I open the double oven and find my breakfast. I pull out the tray which has a pile of French toast on it. In the refrigerator I pull out strawberries, whipped cream, and a glass of eggnog.
When my dad returns home, we sit awkwardly in silence while I finish my breakfast. We drive the five hours to Fabor University, making a quick stop for burgers, something my mom would not have done.
“Lee, have you thought about what you’re going to say?” My dad asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
“A little.” I reply, taking a sip of my milkshake.
“Lee, this interview is immensely important. It determines the rest of your life.”
“I know!” I say, not meaning to raise my voice.
I rub my hands over my knees, trying to get rid of the sweat that has accumulated due to my nervousness.
We pull onto Fabor’s enormous campus and my dad parks easily, knowing the school like the back of his hand. He places his hand at the small of my back as we walk into the admissions office.
“You’re going to do fine. Good luck.” He whispers into my ear.
* * *
I guess that my dad didn’t necessarily give me enough luck, because when the acceptance deadline passes, I do not receive anything special in the mail or any emails: waitlist. I sit around my dad’s house, moping and wallowing in my sorrow. I am a lazy, mess. I never go out, I only eat junk food. I divide my time into eating, sleeping, watching TV, sketching, and calling my mom and the boys.
On June 3rd I finally another letter.
YOU ARE READING
American Love Affair (5 Seconds of Summer fan fiction)
Fanfiction~EDITS ARE IN PROGRESS~ Lee is an average girl with a history of problems. When her mother becomes the publicist of the Australian punk pop band, 5 Seconds of Summer, Lee begins to spend a lot of time with the four Aussie hotties, and being only se...
