She's America's sweetheart. He's a world famous musician, translating personal heartbreak to golden lyrics. A serendipitous encounter along the coast of Cannes sparks a passionate and unexpected romance that will leave the world in awe.
"I loved yo...
I was nauseated and angry. Livid if you truly ask me. For the lack of help at the customer service counter resulted in absolutely nothing. The clean polished representative simply smiled at the mishap, informing me that these sort of things happen all the time unfortunately. Serves me right for allowing Grace to book a last minute flight. I decide not to make a big fuss for the motion sickness medication I decided to take on the plane is still stirring up its drowsy effect. Also, it's only a matter of honest time before I'm spotted within the hustle and bustle of the airport.
Alfonzo continues to map out our day on his phone, typing away, allowing me to gather my thoughts in order. I decide to venture off towards baggage claim once more, hoping my precious suitcase will spin past me if I seek hard enough. As I stand, arms crossed, body wishing for a true hour of sleep, I realize those around me. For I hear their hushed whispers and the quiet clicks of pictures going off.
Well, here we go again.
I decide to pretend that I don't notice, knowing that I'm already going to make the front pages by landing in the city anyways. Might as well try to find my bag in the process. And normally, I wouldn't care about these things. I wouldn't care if it wasn't the very bag that I absolutely adore. If only it wasn't the very bag gifted to me nearly two decades ago by my father. When everyone else have claimed their luggage and no new items revolve past, I decide this is a failed attempt. Might as well head on out to the car. Alfonzo remains close by as more and more people take hint of my whereabouts.
They take photos as I keep my head down, walking quickly towards the exit door. And as I keep my shades on, it's then in which I'm truly dumbfounded as I stare straight ahead. For a man is holding onto my bag, ushering off at a fast pace. He's tall and easy to pinpoint in the crowds of teenage girls as I know this is my only chance. Good thing I'm not wearing heels. He's also drawing in a crowd of its own as people all around seem to be screaming in his ear as he attempts to flee the scene. Not so easily I smile as I try to push past them all, focused only on my sentimental suitcase.
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Alfonzo pleads for me to remain patient and by his side, but much to his disappointment, I don't listen. Peoples' interests are sparked and heightened as I dash towards the exit door the man has decided to taken. I'm hurdled into a mob as paparazzi and hysterical fans all about shout and demand attention. The unknown man has his back to me as he stands a couple feet away, awaiting his getaway car.
"Excuse me, sir. Excuse me," I say, words muffled and lost in such a chaotic storm.
It's then in which such unwanted and divided attention is placed onto me as flashing lights nearly blind me in the process.
"Oh my god, it's Layla!!"
"Can we get a picture?"
"Layla, are you excited for the film festival?"
I stand, frozen in my spot as I try to sport a calm and collected face. All the while my attention is on the suitcase that remains in the man's grip. It's then in which he also turns, confused by such a stir pot scene. He frowns through his rose shades as I stammer forward. Hundreds of photos are taken and numerous questions and requests are thrown our way as I fight through it all, walking right up to him. I'm flabbergasted by his actions and surely my anger has not ceased. I inhale properly as he stands silent.
