island ☆ g.d.

1. him

Y/n POV:
I check my phone. 9:30 am.

My flight is at 10.

I get out of my car and jog into the busy airport, not caring that I look like a complete mess with my hair in a messy bun and my comfortable clothes on.

All I know is that I'm late for my flight, which is the last chance I have to get back to LA for weeks because of the weather.

If I don't get back, I have to be stuck with my mother until then.

Yay.

I moved to LA because of bullying in my past and all the stress that my town in Philadelphia has caused me. I had to go to therapy for years because of the kids at my old schools. When I visited LA even just once, everyone was nicer, more relaxed, less uptight. I loved it there.

I also moved because I thought it would be good for my career on YouTube, which it was. I have over 8 million subscribers now. The countless meetings I have in LA always stress me out, but I love getting to have a platform on YouTube.

I run to the terminal of the plane I'm supposed to get on, hoping I don't look lost as I skim through all of the numbers trying to find number 11. It's practically invisible in the loud area. I almost give up hope when I finally see it.

I quickly sprint over and go to the blonde- haired lady at the desk. "Is there still time to board flight 376?" I ask, too much curiosity in my voice.

"Sorry, that flight has been delayed until 4:00," she says, not even glancing in my direction.

Great.

Well, I might as well not waste my time just waiting around. Good thing I see a Starbucks near me, I need something to drink, anyways.
Even if that drink is insanely overpriced.

I slowly walk over to the brightly lit shop, gradually being able to smell all of the food inside.

I stop outside for a second, closing my eyes and letting all of the sounds of the airport surround me.

When I finally go into the Starbucks, it's pretty much empty. I dance through the nonexistent line of people and then I wait for the barista to come up and take my order. I plan what I'm going to say to them, because I get too anxious if I don't know what I want. When I have to figure it out while they're still sitting there is the worst.

My ten dollar bill already rests in my hand, ready to be given in as exchange for the drink I'm about to buy. My wallet is already open to house the change that I will get without a doubt.

I just ordered an iced coffee, which I knew wasn't going to take very long. I was so excited to finally get something in me, I skipped breakfast today.

I finally got my drink and then sat at one of the tables. I took a sip of the drink and was amazed by the flavor.

Are drinks better in the airport or something?

A little while later, I decided that walking around the airport would probably be more fun than sitting at a table. I never really walk around, I mostly just wait at the terminal or sit at a table in a store.

I walk out of the Starbucks, holding my drink and running my fingers along the wall with one hand and rolling my suitcase through the airport with the other.

I turn the corner, letting go of the one wall, only to run right into another. I land with a thud on the floor, wondering how I just was so dumb to run into a wall.

Well, at least what I thought was a wall.

Standing there is the most handsome person I've ever seen. He's insanely tall, and his muscles are huge. His face is heavenly. He has a mark on his chin, and he's insanely tan. His eyes are hazel with specks of gold in them that shine like the sun.

And not to mention, his jawline could cut my finger.

I was so distracted looking at him that I barely realized I'm still on the ground. I almost didn't notice even when the god himself talked to me.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

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