No Chance, No Way

The morning of January 31st was a hectic one. My mom and I were running back and forth from the bathroom to my bedroom, trying to gather all my belongings in time to make my flight at the airport. My mind was simply running from what happened with Sam towards the plane that would carry me away from him. It had been for the past week.

"Do you have everything?" My mom asked. She had taken the day off at work in order to see me off.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Toothbrush?"

"Check."

"Hairbrush?"

"Yup."

"Underwear?"

"All the pairs I own."

"PJ's?"

"Yes."

"Socks?"

I looked at my mom and tilted my head, in the 'do you really think I'm that dumb to forget to pack socks?' kind of way.

My mom simply sighed and said, "Ok, well start packing your suitcases into the car I guess, I'll meet you downstairs."

I grabbed my two suitcases and my backpack and made my way to the door. As I set my suitcases down to open the door, a manilla envelope was slipped through the crack. I raised an eyebrow and picked it up off the floor. Opening it up, I found a spiral notebook with the cover reading How To Run A Country For Dummies.

I flipped through the book to find freshly printed pages of advice on how to run a country, obviously not written by a professional author. I smiled, slid it into my backpack, and opened the door. Nobody was in sight. Making my way downstairs with my two suitcases in hand, I couldn't help but smile.

Moments later, I was seated in the passenger seat in my mom's old car and we had just pulled out of the parking structure. As we were driving towards the airport, my mom kept reminding me to call at least twice a week and to be careful around the King. After all, he was old and prone to heart attacks. When we pulled up to a stop sign, I looked out of my window and there he was.

Sitting on the swing set with a knowing smile planted on his face, he gave me a little wave. With a heavy heart, I returned the gesture. And then I was off.

Thanks, Sam.

We arrived at the airport shortly later, nearly a full two hours before my flight was scheduled to take off. My mom stayed by my side and kept looking at me anxiously, as if I were disappearing forever. As soon as my bags were checked, she started to tear up.

"You need to call me as soon as you land, ok? Don't forget about your allergies, don't step within 100 feet of a bee hive! Cats are a major no-no and no grape juice, I never told you this but your digestive system hates it! Got it?"

I rolled my eyes, but wrapped her in a huge hug anyway.

"Yes, mom. Can I go now?"

She laughed, "Of course."

We held on for a bit longer before exchanging quick cheek kisses. I grabbed my bag and headed towards security. When I handed the lady at the counter my boarding pass, she talked to me as if I were a very special guest– it was only until after I glanced at my ticket that I understood why. For the first time in my life, I was flying first class. After skipping to the front of the security line and getting priority boarding onto the plane, I happily plopped into my seat and made myself comfortable.

Minutes passed and it seemed as if it was taking forever to take-off. As a stewardess walked by me, I politely stopped her and asked for the time.

"Ma'am, I understand we're nearly a half hour off schedule, but the plane has been delayed for a very understandable reason," she said, with a giggle or two following the sentence.

I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth. Was the pilot getting a blowjob or something? Oh god, did I really want to know the answer to that question? I mean, I’ve heard of road head before, but air head? Hah. Airhead.

I adjusted myself in my seat and leaned my head back. To pass the time, I began turning in circles in the rotating chair. I could get used to First Class...

"He's running through the jetway, close the door, we are ready for take-off!"

I jumped in my seat. Was our plane being hijacked? Slowly, I began to turn my head to the left to see towards the front of the plane.

"Excuse me," a guy wearing Chanel shades, semi-baggy jeans, and a white t-shirt said, clearly needing to get to the window seat that was next to my own aisle seat. At the sudden sound of his voice, I sat up straight in my seat and pulled my feet up in my chair and into my chest. Whenever I was scared, I assumed the fetal position. I’m primal in that way.

"Hey, you ok?" He asked, fastening his seat belt as the plane began to rear out of the boarding area.

"Uhh," I started, "Are you a hijacker? Or do they just stop planes for almost an hour whenever you need to fly across seas with no possible emergency landing sites?"

He laughed, "No."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Turning my seat towards his, I saw him reach up and take off his sunglasses, revealing his stubbly face. I gasped and covered my hand with my mouth. I mean, my mouth with my hand. That flight attendant wasn't joking after all, he was understandable.

He laughed, "I'm guessing you're a fan?"

"Only since N*Sync. You never were my favorite member but ever since Lance wasn't into chicks, it's been you. Jesus, am I dreaming?" I asked in disbelief. Justin Timberlake could not be sitting next to me for a full eight-hour flight. Now I really could get used to first class.

"No, I'm here. Do you mind if I drink?"

I raised an eyebrow. I shook my head and put my feet down on the floor while he pushed the button that called for a flight attendant. At the same time, the 'fasten seatbelts' sign went on. I guess the plane was really ready to take off.

"Just great," Justin muttered, rubbing his neck/throat.

"I have some water in my bag, if you want that?" I offered, motioning towards my backpack on the floor.

"Um... I'm not sure if I should-"

"I haven't opened it yet, if that's what you're worried about. And the cap is still sealed. You can check if you want to," I said, reaching into my bag regardless of whether he wanted the bottle or not, "Here, see?"

"Well then do you mind if I," he trailed off, pointing at the bottle. I shook my head and passed him the bottle.

What the hell? If Sam had asked me for a sip from my water bottle, I would have whacked him with it on the head. I guess Justin Timberlake is that one exception.

Moments later he passed me back the bottle. It was 3/4 empty.

"How far did you run to catch the plane, exactly?" I joked, putting the bottle in his cup holder as a silent suggestion that he keep it.

He smiled, "Not far. But I did wake up just ten minutes before boarding time."

...right. I nodded and absentmindedly kept twisting my chair around in circles.

"So, exactly how old are you, kid?" He asked, just now making himself comfortable.

"I'm seventeen. Turning eighteen in about three weeks."

"Well, you must be excited. Get to vote, adults take you seriously..."

I scoffed.

"Adults won't take me seriously until I run a country successfully," I inadvertently spilled. My eyes widened and I quickly added on, "Or something."

"Yeah, I never got to have the beauty of that feeling."

"Well, if my career took off when I was 14, I would be soaking it up, not complaining," I mildly teased. I didn't want to cross any boundries, though, so I almost assumed the fetal position again. Almost.

"Kid, it gets old fast. I love making music, I do. I'm just tired of having to watch my back, is all. There are people out there who don't care about the music, they just want the fame. I don't want to associate myself with those people, you know? What's your name, anyway? I don't want to keep calling you 'Kid.'"

...What was my name, again?

"Uhh," I said, seriously blanking. The longer I stayed silent, the bigger his smile grew. Fuck, what was my name? "Emilie." I finally managed to get out, silently laughing at myself. I needed to get a grip. This was ridiculous. No, this was love. Seriously, Emilie? Snap out of it!

"Well, nice to meet you Emilie."

"Yeah, same to you. Say, isn't it your birthday today?"

January 31, 1981. Only I would know it was his birthday. Stupid, I shouldn't have said that. Now he's gonna think I'm some sort of freak. Gah!

He laughed, "Yeah, it is."

"Happy Birthday, then. I would sing to you, but uh, my voice isn't as good as yours."

"Yeeeeeeah," he laughed, drawing out the vowel sound, "Thanks for the generous offer, though."

I smiled at his in-tact sense of sarcasm. You know, I'm glad he wasn't some egotistical famous douche-bag.

"So," he started, twiddling his thumbs and obviously bored with the flight already, "What brings you to London?"

I shifted in my seat, "Um, family affairs. Yourself?"

"Business."

I smirked. Of course. The rest of the flight was rather uneventful. Small talk was made, his drink was finally ordered, and eventually, we both fell asleep. When the flight landed, he gave me a hug, and then was met by three bodyguards by the boarding area. I'm not ashamed to admit, as soon as he was out of sight and out of hearing range, I squealed my ass off like a fan girl. Then, I turned away.

Reyland, here I come, I thought, as I made my way towards another terminal, awaiting another flight that would take me to Reyland.