September 12, 2014
The busy bodies roaming through the airport made it feel like rush hour. I exited the terminal and was nearly trampled by business workers and families trying to get to baggage claim like they'd win a gold medal for reaching it first. A couple of fans waited nearby, likely hoping I was exited the plane with Ashton. Shoulders dropped in defeat once they saw it was only me. I wasn't bothered by that though, I'd be disappointed too if I saw only myself and no Ashton Irwin by my side.
I had been absent from this place for two, almost three, months and I was slapped in the face by how rude everyone was, not even uttering a simple 'sorry' for attempted murder. In New York, the people who ran into me would typically give a cold apology, which was better than nothing.
I adjusted the strap of my laptop bag in a nervous matter while I waited for my suitcase. The instant I stepped on the Californian ground, I felt a quick jolt of negative energy shoot through me and my mind switched over to its negative fashion. My worries returned just as I had. My worries about every small detail, I knew I should overlook, returned.
What if someone realized I was adjusting my bag too much and they snickered at me?
What if my luggage didn't make it from New York?
I became aware of my breathing and the way my heart pounded, unable to ignore the pulsation throughout my body because it was making itself obvious. I was sure the fans were catching this quiet breakdown on camera and I could find it on Twitter as soon as I arrived home. My hands were sweating and I was afraid I would lose grip on my phone, dropping it and having someone step on it, but I objected to the voice in my mind, telling me to just place the damn thing in my pocket. What if someone took off with it and I didn't feel them take it?
I became aware of how much weight I was putting on one foot, swapping the power between feet every five minutes, exactly. I didn't want to stress my body out even more.
What if someone noticed that? Would they question me?
Adjust bag, run fingers through hair, switch weight on foot, check phone despite only a minute passing, make sure I was still breathing, repeat the process.
I told myself the quicker my luggage got here, the quicker I could leave, but that was a lie in itself because I was unsure if Jack was here to pick me up yet. The plan was he'd call me once he was here, but I had gotten no calls. LA traffic was probably holding him up.
The luggage carousel alarms with a loud buzz and I was back to the outdated jumpy Talia I did not miss. It took about six tries until my black and red plaid suitcase appeared and I snatched it without hesitations. I dragged the suitcase behind me, rushing while telling myself not to rush because I didn't know where I was going.
I came a stop when a celebrity passed by me, their face was covered by a stack of papers and a bunch of paparazzi were yelling at them and flashing their cameras, not allowing me a look at who was so important. Thank god it wasn't me in that position right now. There was a group of fans following closely behind, clutching their phones tightly in preparation for this celebrity to stop and take a photo with them, but I could see the falter of expressions as they reached closer to the exit and realized that person wasn't going to stop for them.
"Did you enjoy your trip?!"
"How beautiful was Fiji?!"
"Can you say hi to Karol for me?!"
"Talia?"
I shot my head in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A petite blonde stood with an eager smile on her face. "You're Talia, right?"
