“This is the final boarding call for American Airways Flight 673 with service to Evansville, IN departing at 6:05 pm. Any passengers still needing to board, please make your way to gate 26 immediately.”
“Shit, Shit, Shit...” Heather Jackson mumbled to herself, shifting uneasily from side to side, as if it would somehow make the stagnant line she was standing in move faster.
She was desperately trying to peer around the other passengers in front of her to assess how far away she was from the final security checkpoint, but it was nearly impossible to see. The throngs of people everywhere were blocking her view, and she had no idea how long it would take. She had already been waiting in line for what seemed like eternity, stalled from reaching her destination by crying children, malfunctioning strollers, and unwarranted security checks. Her patience was definitely wearing thin, mostly because she was about to miss her flight home to Evansville.
Gotta love the holiday season, right?
Dissatisfied with the view, she moved her hand to her face, slowly moving it exasperatedly over her cheek bones and down her make-up free skin as the seconds passed. Unfortunately, her attempts at trying to wipe away the stress from her features were unsuccessful.
“Come on...” she whined.
Those torturous seconds turned into minutes, which quickly felt like hours. Everything seemed to be moving in super slow motion, and it was everything she had inside her not to just start pushing and shoving--or from throwing a three year old temper tantrum in the middle of the airport. Either was possible at this point.
But instead, she just shifted from side to side, monotonously in an absent-mind fashion. At least it distracted her from staring at her watch every five seconds.
“Thank God,” she finally sighed out loud, seeing the large family of five finally clearing out in front of her, allowing her eyes to catch the holy grail of airports--the conveyor belt of freedom.
“Attention American Airways passengers. Again, this is the final boarding call for American Airways Flight 673 to Evansville, IN. The aircraft doors will be closing in five minutes.”
She felt a hitch in her throat as the panic started to consumer her, dumping her bag hurriedly onto the moving belt and beginning the process of extracting her laptop as quickly as possible. She was trying to stay calm after hearing the second announcement for her flight home, but it was becoming nearly impossible as the adrenaline started pumping through every inch of veins, making her heartbeat pulse in her ears and her chest. She felt like she was in college again, about to miss that 4pm deadline for her final paper.
Thump Thump.
Except this wasn’t college, and there was no paper. This was life, and she was about to miss her family. Heather did not have time to miss her flight. Not this year. Not after last year’s disaster.
Thump Thump.
As soon as the bag left her hand, she nearly sprinted to the metal detector, failing to realize she had forgotten to take her shoes and jacket off, and that her cell phone and keys were still in the front pocket of her low-rise jeans. These were her favorite jeans, so it was easy for her to forget her keys and her cell phone in their natural home position.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I need you to take off your shoes and your jacket. And put your personal belongings in one of those small bins,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest in a bored fashion to silently reiterate that there wasn’t a chance in hell she was getting through his machine until she did what he told her to do.
She looked down and sighed exasperatedly, desperately trying to hold back the mounting feeling of frustration.
Thud, Thud. Thud, Thud. Thud, Thud.
“All I want to do is get on my damn plane,” she started mumbling, pushing back the soft blonde hair off of her face. She was starting to feel antsy and claustrophobic all at the same time as she started taking off her converse hurriedly. While doing so, she almost fell down a couple of times while trying to pull them off her feet, but found that the laces were too tight to do so, a byproduct of her putting double knots in them when she first got them because they almost came off her feet every time she took a step. As a result, she spent longer than anticipated fumbling with the laces, and nearly tripping out of pure frustration in her hurried state.
“American Airways is paging Ms. Heather Jackson. Flight 673 to Evansville, IN is departing in 3 minutes. Ms. Jackson, please make your way to gate 26.”
As soon as she got them off, she dropped them in the bucket, and began ripping off her “jacket” (which was really just a hoodie to keep warm, but apparently hoodies are considered “jackets” in today’s security hoopla. Who knew?), leaving her in a solid gray Army t-shirt left over from her previous soured relationship with the Army boy. Once completely de-clothed, she immediately rushed back to the metal detector, preparing to just run through and be done with it. Unfortunately for her, it beeped and denied her entry again.
“Do you have change in your pocket...a cell phone? Keys? A belt?” he finished, unemotionally. ‘God, could you be any more enthusiastic? Seriously...’ she thought. It was times like these that she felt screaming ‘if you hate your job, quit, you asshole!!’
Thud Thud Thud Thud.
Thankfully, she didn’t.
Instead, she groaned, trying not to let the pulsing in her veins and the antsy frustration make the tears pool at the bottom of her eyelids, even though she knew it was possible if she didn’t get on her plane in the next four minutes and thirty two seconds.
She stepped back to the belt for the second time, pulling her items out of her pockets so that the white inner lining of the insides were pulled out, making her look like a poor person begging for change. She nearly ripped her belt off, and sighed happily that she had gotten everything removed and sent through. She was ready, now. Just...five more steps.
As soon as she was about to step through the metal detector again, a blur rushed passed her, knocking her to the ground without warning.
She looked up to see what just happened after regaining her breath, and her jaw just dropped.
Turns out it was a man. And he was cutting in front of her.
“Oh, hell no!” she nearly screamed, scrambling to get to her feet. She was fuming that he was standing in the middle of the metal detector, talking with the security man after he had made it buzz like she did nearly two minutes ago.
They ignored her.
ThudThudThudThudThud.
“Sir...excuse me, but are you serious!?” she countered, walking past the metal detector, not caring about buzzing, or etiquette.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step back. Only one passenger is allowed through the metal detector at a time,” the guard finished, obviously disinterested as he looked over the man’s materials, the same one that just budged in front of her so rudely.
“Step back!? STEP BACK? He just cut in front of me, and you want me to step back!?” she asked, incredulously. At this point, she could feel her blood starting to boil, and it was only a matter of seconds before the pools in her eyelids became a reality.
“I am...I am two seconds away from missing my flight. I’ve been standing in this line for nearly three hours, getting pushed back and passed by because of unruly children and people with extra baggage and stupid additional security screenings, and now you’re going to tell me that I have to be patient and STEP BACK for a man who just budged in front of me. I DON’T THINK SO!” she finished, her voice becoming louder with every word that passed her lips. A solitary tear hotly escaped her eyelid, burning a hot trail down her cheek, leaving it flushed pink in the process.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the guard offered, a hint of warning in his voice, just barely peering above the man’s passport and boarding pass.
“Attention American Airways passengers. Flight 673 to Evansville, IN has concluded the final boarding procedures, and is now preparing for departure.”
THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD.
“CALM DOWN? Calm down!? You want me to calm down!? This ASSHOLE just made me miss my fucking flight!!!” She was no longer speaking loudly at this point. She was full out yelling.
Turns out, the temper tantrum wins.
She watched as the man and the guard continued to ignore her. Her eyes took in the young gentleman, probably in his mid 30s, as he retrieved the boarding pass from the guard after his intense scrutiny with the magic wand. Afterwards, he continued casually to the end of the conveyor belt to pick up his golden book-bag. Just watching him just made her even more angry.
As he walked away, she couldn’t help but analyze him--the way he walked, the way he looked. He had a confident, careless structure to his jaw, which made her own clench out of frustration. His hair was shaggy, his jeans were tightly fitted, and his sweater vest made him look like some pretty Harvard grad.
“What an asshole...” she mumbled.
She really couldn’t fathom that a) security would allow someone to budge through like that without recourse to the rest of the people standing in line--and b) that someone could so carelessly not only walk through security, passing hundreds of waiting people during an insanely busy holiday season, but also c) do it without even caring--not even so much of a blink of remorse was written on his face!
She was not going to let him get away with this. She shoved her boarding pass at the guard in a flippant fashion. Of course, now that she wasn’t in a hurry, she made it through the metal detector without a hitch. While she waited for him to scan her details, her eyes remained fixated on the man with the golden book bag that had just ruined her Christmas.
“Oh, looks like you missed your flight, ma’am,” the guard said. He didn’t say it remorsefully, just stated it more matter-of-factly.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she replied, not even looking at him.
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go back to the ticket counter and get another boarding pass. I can’t let you through here now,” he finished.
She laughed.
“You’re joking, right?”
“HEY! Hurry it up! We’ve all got flights to catch, you know!?” she heard, coming from somewhere deep in the line.
The irony of this situation was just so thick it was almost unbelievable. Was this really happening to her? Again?
“SHUT UP!” she turned around and yelled. Yelling seemed to feel good right now, considering everything that just happened.
“Ma’am. I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to take your things and head back to the ticket counter.”
“But...But, I...” she fumbled. He was really serious? Surely he was just speaking in jest. She stood there, staring up at him, taking in his facial features in attempt to try and find some semblance of mild humor there. But she found none, the look on his face proving that he really was not joking at all.
Just as she was about to finish her sentence--or cry, whichever came first--she felt a hand just above her elbow, lightly gripping the bottom of her bicep. She went to jerk it off of her instinctually, but before she could, she heard the most saccharine voice on the planet.
“Excuse me, sir. She’s with me,” he finished effortlessly. There was a calming tone to his voice--something that just made you sit back with ease. Perhaps even close your eyes and breathe in a calm breath of tranquility.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but we can only let in one passenger at a time,” the security guard regurgitated routinely.
“Here...” he handed him a small little black book. His hand was moving too quickly for her to see it, but it resembled a passport--but not quite, although she couldn’t place what it said, or what it even looked like, really. It surely wasn’t the ugly green color she was used to, but something different. She tried to move to get a closer look, but the grip the newcomer held on her arm prevented her from doing so. Whatever that document was, the look on the guard’s face hinted that it was something more official.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake. My sincerest apologies,” he offered, handing him back the material discreetly.
“Not a problem,” he smiled. “We’ll be going now. Thank you.”
She took the time to glance up at her makeshift captor, noticing the slight stubble adorning his cheek. His smile was bright--almost too bright, as the whiteness of his dental work was almost blinding. And then she caught his eyes when they peered down at her, and she felt her breath catch slightly in her throat.
There was something about that deep cerulean blue lined with lighter steel fragments in the middle. It almost reminded her of lightning or a storm, the way it was calm and gentle, yet dark and moody all at the same time. His eyes were definitely captivating. But it was the full package that really got her--the eyes, the smile, the beautifully lined jaw, the short, buzzed hair. He was picture perfect, certainly too perfect to rescue her from having to battle the masses to get back to the ticket counter and find another flight.
“Evansville, IN, correct?” he asked quietly, flashing that smile again. She felt her knees go weak a little at the gesture. Or maybe it was just his hand cutting off blood flow to her right arm.
“Uh...yes...h-how did you know?” she asked, a little confused. She would be alarmed if he wasn’t so damn beautiful. Those eyes.
“I saw your boarding pass. You dropped it back there, when you fell,” he replied, handing it to her, letting his fingers brush hers in the process. “Heather Jackson, right? The same Heather Jackson they were paging over the loudspeaker?”
He effortlessly walked her over to the conveyor belt to grab her things. He wasn’t traveling with anything, which her piqued interest. Did he work for the airport or something?
“Oh. Yes...” Heather blushed profusely. She wanted to say more, but she was kind of taken by surprise, considering she had been through just about every emotion possible in the past three hours. She was also still desperately trying to process and understand this strange occurrence of events.
“I...how did you know? Do you really listen to loudspeakers that well?” she asked, curiously, finally finding her words. He must work at the airport.
“Not really...I just happened to remember hearing it as I walked into the building,” he nodded.
“Oh.” Silence.
“I’m sorry--who are you again? I mean...I didn’t even get your name...” she trailed off, trying to get his eyes off of her mind and back to the topic at hand.
“I’m Timberlake. Justin Timberlake,” he smiled, flashing her the smile as he gently grabbed her bag. She couldn’t help but giggle at the execution of his name. What was he...in a James Bond movie or something?
“Right. Timberlake. Got it,” she sighed, thankful that she was finally through security and inside the terminal area. She went to head towards the information counter, but realized that his hand was still gripping her arm firmly. “Uh...you can let go of me now, I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am...but I can’t do that,” he smiled.
“Uh....why--why not?” she asked. This was starting to get creepy.
“I can’t tell you, or I’d have to kill you.”
“You’d have to kill me?” she asked, confused. She should be scared by that, right? I mean...who was this guy? He knows her name. He knows where she’s flying to. He’s grabbing her arm, and refusing to let her leave his grip. She just missed her flight and got knocked over by a complete stranger, and then magically rescued and allowed to come into the terminal because this man magically shows up and makes it all go away. Something definitely wasn’t adding up here.
“Nah, I’m just joking,” he smiled again.
“Is he really joking? Or just saying he’s joking? And by the way...he is hot, but does he really need to smile this much? He is always smiling, damnit. It’s so...distracting.” she thought.
“Oh, good,” she sighed, hoping that he was telling the truth.
“Come on, let me help you find a new flight out. I happen to be headed to the same part of town as you...I’m sure that I can get you on my flight,” he replied, gently letting her arm go and walking her to the ticket counter. He flashed that little black book he had again, and in no time, without much fuss, they were on a flight to Evansville, IN.
Just the two of them.
Plus two strangers.
On a commercial 747.
To Evansville, IN.
Am I missing something?
Thump, Thump.
