Betting on You

The first time I met Charlie was at the airport in Fairbanks.

My dad had just said goodbye, so I was swallowing down heavy emotion as I left behind life as I knew it and prepared to fly to Nebraska, where my mother and I would now be living since my parents had officially separated. I lifted my chin and attempted to channel maturity as I traversed the airport with my rolling pink carry-on, but every blink of my eyes held back a weighted homesickness for the place and the memories I was leaving behind.

It was when I got stuck in a long line of people waiting to go through security, sandwiched between strangers and stressing over whether or not my braces were going to set off the metal detector, that we made contact.

The line started moving, but I couldn’t take a step because the two people in front of me were kissing. Hard-core. As if their mouths were fused together and they were desperately trying to pull them apart by turning their heads from side to side.

Or else they were eating each other’s faces off.

I cleared my throat.

Nothing.

I cleared my throat again.

Which made the guy open his eyes—I could only see one eye—and look directly at me. While still kissing the girl. As if that wasn’t weird enough, he said to me while his lips were still attached to hers, “Oh my God—what?”

Which sounded like omiguhdwhruut.

And then The Eye closed and they were full-on kissing again.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Excuse me,” I said through gritted teeth, my emotional anxiety replaced by irritation, “but the line. The line is moving.”

The Eye opened again and the dude glared at me. He lifted his mouth and said something to his girlfriend that prompted them to actually move forward. Finally. I heard his girlfriend chirp about how much she was going to miss him, and I could see by his profile that he was kind of half smiling and not saying anything as they stumbled forward, hand in hand.

But I couldn’t get past the fact that they looked like they were my age.

What?

I was going into my freshman year. Of high school. People my age didn’t make out in public; they couldn’t even drive yet. People my age didn’t have the audacity to totally get after it in the airport security line, where they could get in trouble.

So who were these obnoxious PDA renegades?

The girl stepped out of line and waved to the guy, probably relieved to finally be getting oxygen. After making it through security and reorganizing my things, I checked the time on my phone. I wanted to be right next to the door when the Jetway opened, so it was imperative that I get there as quickly as possible. I went around the face-eating jackass as he looked down at his phone, and I walked as fast as I could toward the departure gate.

It wasn’t until I took a seat right next to the check-in counter, where I couldn’t miss any pertinent announcements and would be guaranteed a spot at the very front of the line, that I was finally able to calm my nerves.

I scrolled through my phone, checked the airline’s app for updates, then put on my headphones and cued up the freshly curated Bailey’s Airplane Playlist. But as I sat back and watched the other travelers milling about the terminal, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were being forced to go somewhere they didn’t want to go and start a new life they had no interest in beginning.

If I were a betting person, I’d say zero.

I had to be the only person in that entire airport who was going on what was the polar opposite of a trip. I had a ticket to my own transplantation, and it sucked. I dwelled on this for the entirety of the hour wait, especially when Adorable Family of Four plopped down across from me, looking like poster children for the Disney resorts as they bounced around with palpable travel enthusiasm.

The sight of their familial bliss made me want to snuggle with the tiny scrap of blankie I still slept with (even though no one knew) and cry just a little.

So to say I was tightly wound by the time we lined up to board would be an understatement. I was first in line—hell yes—but buzzing with my own brand of palpable energy. My gurgling turmoil saw Adorable Family’s enthusiasm and raised the pot by a hundred.

“Hey, you.”

I looked to my left, and there was the face-eating jackass from security, smiling at me as if we were friends.

“I looked everywhere for you, babe.”

I glanced behind me at the rest of the boarding line, because he couldn’t possibly be talking to me. But when I turned back around, he was actually moving marginally closer, forcing me to take a step over so he could stand beside me. He nudged my shoulder with his and winked.

What in the actual hell? Was he high?

“What are you doing?” I whispered, clutching the strap of my carry-on bag as I tried scooting away from him while still maintaining my First in Line status. He was wearing a hoodie that said Mr. Nothing, with baggy shorts, and he didn’t have a single thing in his hands. No carry-on, no book, no coat; what kind of person traveled like that?

He moved even closer, so his face was about an inch from mine, and said under his breath, “Relax, Glasses. I just don’t want to wait in that line, so I’m making it look like we’re together.”

“But.” I looked at him and wondered who Mr. Nothing actually was. He was obviously my age-ish and a generally attractive human. He had thick, dark, careless hair and a nice mouth. But his nerve was just too huge for a normal boy. “That’s not fair.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone else has to wait in line,” I said, trying not to sound like a child screaming It’s not fair while kind of wanting to throw elbows. “If you didn’t want to wait, you should’ve gotten here earlier.”

“Like you?” he asked, his tone thick with sarcasm.

I pushed up my glasses. “Yes, like me.”

Why is this total stranger messing with me? Was this karma for daydreaming about Adorable Family being stranded at the airport? Karma was supposed to be a cat, dammit, not this.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. “I bet you used to be a hall monitor.”

“Excuse me?” It was obvious he meant it in an insulting way, and I was torn between wanting to punch him in the face and wanting to sobbingly beg him to leave me alone. I glanced behind us again, and the man next in line was smirking, clearly eavesdropping. I turned back to Mr. Nothing and whispered, “Not that it’s any of your business, but everyone had to take a turn at my school.”

“Sure they did.”

Sure they did? I made a noise, sort of a growl mixed with a groan, before fleetingly wondering if punching a fellow passenger was a federal offense.

“Are you… Do you not believe me?” I asked through gritted teeth. “About hall monitoring?”

He smirked. “It’s not that I don’t believe you; it’s that we both know you would’ve signed up whether it was mandatory or not.”

How would he know that? He wasn’t wrong, but it pissed me off that he behaved as if he knew me, when our relationship spanned five awful minutes. I was squinting and my nose was scrunched up like something smelled bad, but it was physically impossible to unsquinch it. I managed to bite out, “Whatever.”

He stopped talking but didn’t move; he just stayed put, right where he was. We both stood there, side by side, staring in front of us in silence. Why isn’t he moving? He’s not going to stay here, is he?? After another long minute of non-speak, I couldn’t take it and very nearly shouted the words “Why are you still here?”

He seemed confused by my question. “What?”

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder, and he said, “Oh my God, you were serious about that? You’re going to make me go to the back?”

I breathed in through my nose. “I’m not making you. It’s the way things work.”

“Oh, well, if it’s the way things work…” He looked at me like I was an idiot.

The airline employee who’d been standing beside the door grabbed the speaker and began announcing our flight. I gave Mr. Nothing another pointed look, the patented WTF are you doing look, punctuated with bug eyes, which made him shake his head and step out of line.

He looked at the guy behind me and said, “It’s the way things work; don’t worry about it.”

And even though I refused to turn around and watch him, I heard him mutter “It’s the way things work” no less than five times as he made his way to the back of the line.

Whyyyyyyy? Why was this smug, sarcastic jerk even part of my experience? He’s ruining flying for me, I thought as I scanned my boarding pass and started down the Jetway, which was ironic when flying was the only thing I didn’t hate about the day.

My first time flying alone was the one teensy-tiny thing that I’d been excited about, and Assbag Zero seemed determined to destroy that.

I didn’t relax until we were boarded, my bag was stowed in the overhead compartment, I’d texted both my parents, and I was seated next to the window. People were still getting settled, but I’d made it. I’d been stressed all day, but now—ahhh. I closed my eyes and felt like I could finally exhale.

Until.

“What are the odds that we’d be seat neighbors?”

I opened my eyes, and there was Mr. Nothing, standing in the aisle, his mouth hard as he looked just as happy to see me as I was to see him.