Dear Bailey

Part 1

Bailey

"Sorry," a rushed male voice said as he rolled his small carry-on over my toes. He didn't even stop long enough to make sure I wasn't going to go into shock—ok, that might be a bit dramatic, but really, could he not stop his loud conversation on his cell phone long enough to sound genuine? I moved my feet up close to my body and scowled at his retreating back as I sat on the dark blue utility carpet of the large airport. The flight I'd just gotten off of was full and many of its passengers were taking up the uncomfortable plastic seats. Bad weather across the country was causing flight delays and overcrowding.

"Jackass," a deep voice said from across the aisle. He wore the shiniest black shoes I'd ever seen. Dark socks peeked out from below his dark green trousers and I followed the sharp crease up to the starched shirt tucked into them. His brass belt buckle caught my eye, and I wondered why someone might be so dressed up at an airport in the middle of nowhere. As I let my eyes lift further, I saw that he was in uniform of some sort. Small pins decorated the space above his pocket on his chest. Finally, my eyes made it up to his face, and my heart fluttered quickly beneath my ribs.

We were clearly about the same age, but his thin face and strong, clean-shaven jaw made him look more experienced in life than I imagined I looked. I was suddenly aware that I was wearing my old black yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt over a washed out concert tee. Don't judge, I still had a three-hour flight ahead of me and comfort always wins out over style on these trips to my father's house. My long messy brown hair was tied in a knot at the top of my head and my face was clear of any make-up. I pushed my reading glasses up a bit further on my face as the stranger smiled down on me.

"Are your toes ok?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He held a hard-framed cap in the same dark olive color as his trousers in his hand. I nodded as I curled my toes inside my warm boots.

"Still attached."

His lips curled just slightly as his eyes moved down to my feet and then slowly rose again, making my cheeks feel hot under his gaze. There went my heart again, fluttering and flopping around as if suddenly shocked to life. My lips curled too. He was cute, far cuter than any of the guys at my school back home. His eyes were a light blue and seemed to stand out against his tan skin. It might have also helped that his hair was shaved really short, leaving nothing to really draw my attention other than those soulful eyes that were staring back at me. Right. I was staring.

"You wouldn't happen to have a charger for that phone, would you?" He pointed to the phone in my hand.

"I do." I reached inside my large backpack that I was using as my carry-on. The cord was messily wrapped around itself. I held it out to him. "I think there's a plug right behind me."

"Thanks. I packed mine in my sea bag. I wasn't planning on this being such a long trip." He reached for the cord and when his fingers brushed against my own, I had to fight the urge to let my finger tips pause against his skin long enough to memorize the way he felt beneath them. I almost giggled, this strange sensation of happiness and curiosity were dancing in my chest. I was like an obsessed fan at the feet of their idolized rock star.

"No problem," I managed to say. I moved over a little so he could get to the plug. He moved from his seat on the chair and sat down on the floor beside me. It seemed so out of place to see this handsome boy, all dressed up in his uniform, sitting cross-legged beside me. I'd never been more curious about a stranger before. He plugged in his phone and set it on the ground in front of us.

The intercom boomed with announcements above us, and the room seemed to grow quiet as the voice informed us that flights were grounded in Florida due to the hurricane we'd learned about on our flight in. When the voice stopped and music started up again, the boy beside me shook his head and took off the dark olive jacket that completed the uniform. I couldn't help myself. I watched the fabric slip down his arms from his broad shoulders. His dress shirt beneath was just as sharp, a crease boldly ironed down the center of his sleeve.

"I guess we're going to be here a while." He seemed a little anxious, but still smiled at me as he folded the jacket and laid it across his lap. He moved his legs out in front of him and leaned his head back against the wall. "What's your name?"

"Bailey." I mimicked his position.

"Lucas," he said, extending his hand for me to shake. It seemed so formal, but I was dying to touch him again so I didn't hesitate. "You headed to Florida?"

"Maybe." I wasn't crazy. I was born and raised in Los Angeles and knew that you never told anyone exactly where you were going. He might be the most attractive boy I'd ever spoken with, but that didn't mean he wasn't some sort of murderer.

"Smart." He turned his head back out to look at the full room, but not before I saw that adorable smile again. I felt my own cheeks pull up and I bit my bottom lip so I wouldn't be smiling like a complete idiot if he happened to look back. And he did. It was a quick look, but his cheeks turned a little pink beneath those soothing eyes and I knew that this layover wasn't going to be as boring as they usually were. 

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