A Compelling Life

2. Leaving on a jetplane-part 2

Cheekbones and a jawline to die for. Long, sleek, ginger hair, kept in check by a black baseball cap. A bunch of colorful tattoos embellish his slender, yet muscular arms. He's wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt, brown cowboy boots, and tight black spandex pants quite similar to the ones I'm wearing. His wrists are covered in bracelets, a diamond cross dangling from one of his ears. Strangely enough, his somewhat feminine attire only adds to this guy's overall attractiveness. 'Cause holy shit-he looks gorgeous; almost angelic if it wasn't for the mischievous grin on his face.

Taking in his features, I notice I've been staring at this stranger for quite some time now, and I blush when he widens his grin to show that he noticed it too. Well, this is awkward. I still haven't said a word to him. By now I'm frantically searching my brain for some witty comeback to come up with, but it's like my whole English vocabulary has been erased by the mere sight of Gorgeous Mr. Green Eyes.

Luckily, he beats me to it. "Say, quiet girl, how about you save me a seat and I come join you when the fasten seatbelts signs are off?"

 I nod in agreement and even manage to squeeze out a weak smile. "Ok!" God, now I REALLY hope we're not going to die just yet.

******************

*PING*! The fasten seatbelts and smoking signs turn to green as the plane reaches its cruising altitude. I grab a cigarette from my purse, I'm in desperate need of a smoke right now. 

"Need a light?" Gorgeous Mr. Green Eyes plops down on the empty seat next to me. He lights my cigarette, holding my shaky hand just a little too long for comfort while doing so. Smooth. He lights his own cigarette and smiles at me. "So, quiet girl, I'm Axl. What's your name, beautiful?"

"I-I'm Karen," I stutter. 

He grabs my hand and places a kiss on top of it. "Nice to meet you." 

I just smile, not able to take my eyes off of him for even a second. Seriously, if all American guys are this hot, I'm gonna have a hard time focussing on my modeling work in L.A.

The flight attendant comes by and offers us champagne, which we gladly accept. 

"Let's make a toast to your first flight then," he grins just as the plane experiences some minor turbulence. 

It's enough for me to let out a small squeal, though. I instantly regret my childish behavior once again. Jesus Karen, get a hold of yourself! 

But Axl shots me a sympathetic look and waves to the flight attendant. "Actually," he says, looking at her name tag, "...Linda...why don't you make that a whole bottle? My new neighbor over here sure could use some more."

Linda is beaming when she makes her way back to the pantry. "Sure thing, Mr. Rose."

***************

Damn, I'm really drunk. That first glass of champagne went straight to my head, should've stopped right then and there. But judging from the 2 empty bottles on the ground before me, I didn't. Axl is fast asleep on my shoulder, his light snoring sounds resemble the purring of my cat, Vlekje. It's adorable. He's adorable. But I must have bored him out of his mind with all my lame stories about...well, me. The thing is, when I get nervous or drunk, I tend to become this annoying person who is not able to shut up for the life of me. Imagine what I am like being nervous ánd drunk. When Axl asked me what I was going to L.A. for, he got the extended version of the answer that should have been: "modeling work'. Instead, I gave him something of a short biography called 'the uninteresting life of Karen Mulder-a girl who you'll probably never want to speak to again after this flight'.

He knows that an Elite model scout 'discovered' me when I was 15 and visited a department store in Amsterdam with my mom one day. And that I did quite a few magazine covers and fashion shows in the Netherlands after signing up with Elite. That my parents were always a little protective over me, being their only child and all, so they didn't want me to run off to Paris or Milan to hit the fashion runways there before I finished high school. But now that I graduated earlier this year and became 18 one month ago, it was time for my parents to loosen their loving grip on their little girl a little bit. And I got even more than I bargained for when Elite booked me for a swimsuit editorial in L.A., giving me the chance to stay there for 6 months to build up a network and take up other modeling opportunities that, according to them, sure would come along.

That wouldn't even have been too bad of an answer, but I remember rambling on about my parents, my cat and my best friends Esther and Julia and how I would miss them so much as well. About my high school days where we'd skip class to go shopping sometimes and how my parents bought me Vlekje when I was just 10 years old. As if a presumably world-wise person like Axl would be interested in my -at best- ordinary life.

I didn't even ask him about his life once, and he sure wasn't going to be able to interrupt my verbiage even if he wanted to, so I know virtually nothing about the mysterious yet alluring Axl Rose now. After my monologue that seemed to last for hours, I must have dozed off all of a sudden, which makes it even more embarrassing. I hope at least I wasn't drooling or something. On the plus side, when I was busy pouring my heart out to this guy I just met, his eyes never lost that sparkling brightness and he did seem genuinely interested, asking questions at the right times and listening attentively. But I guess he was probably just being polite.

Anyway, to make matters even worse, I really have to pee now, and it seems impossible to leave my seat without waking Axl up. I withdraw my shoulder from Axl's head as cautious as I possibly can. He mutters something I can't understand, but he does not open his eyes. Relieved, I head for the toilet.

Axl has opened his eyes when I arrive back to our seats, but he seems to be in that state just between sleeping and waking. I sit down quietly and whisper "hi," contemplating whether or not to apologize for my jabbering away earlier. But before I can make my decision, he puts his arms around my waist and presses his soft lips onto mine. He lifts me up so I can sit on top of him, my legs on both sides of his legs. Well, I guess that's one way to shut a girl up.