The Good That Won't Come Out

The woman over the loudspeaker called that their flight was boarding. Sluggishly, they moved to board the plane. They settled into the seats. Hailey looked at James. She was excited to be going to California, they hadn't gone anywhere in awhile. She had grown a strong affinity for the States since she went to college for 4 years there. Her parents had thrown a fit. They just couldn't understand why she couldn't go to Oxford with James. Hailey figured they were mostly worried that she would find some sloppy American and leave him. But, she didn't. She respected her parent's wishes and continued a long distance relationship with James. Besides, she had been too busy with classes to meet someone, and James flew out often.

The flight to LA was boring and she had to try to stop thinking. Everything had been making her serious. She couldn't stop thinking about life in general and how it hadn't turned out anywhere near her expectations. She had wanted to stay in the States, but her father's poor health caused her to come back to England.
She stared at James, sleeping peacefully. She ruffled his hair and sighed. It was an odd situation. They were best friends with absolutely nothing in common. The only thing they shared was a great love for their families. Family was the most important thing in their lives. Oh, and they also had a great love life, it was perhaps the one thing that kept them together romantically.

They made it to LAX after a long flight, over 10 hours. The sun was beginning to set on the ocean, the clouds looking like pastel poofs of cotton candy in the sky. Hailey could barely keep her eyes open. She could never sleep on an airplane, no matter how tired she got. They got to their hotel and she crashed on the bed. James laid down next to her and kissed her softly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, just want to sleep."

"Do you care if I go and get some food?"

"No, love, go ahead."

He kissed her once more, then turned out the light and left. Hailey sprawled on the bed and passed out.

The next morning she woke up to a note beside her. James had already taken off to work and he would call her later. Hailey got up and took a shower, put on a little makeup, and did her hair. She slid into a pair of knee length black shorts and a Clash t-shirt, and headed downstairs. She was determined to find some good tea, of course, she would probably have to settle for Starbucks. She began to walk down the sidewalk that was next to the ocean. Breathing in the salty, sea air, she smiled softly to herself, stretching her arms. She began to take a step back, and ruining her zen moment, knocked into someone.

"Shit!" the guy cried, looking down at his now coffee soaked clothes.

"Oh, god! I'm so sorry!" Hailey moaned.

He looked up at her and her heart skipped a beat. His clear blue eyes pierced hers. He was a little taller then her, and filled out, with longish red-blonde hair poking from underneath a baseball cap and thick, black framed glasses. He had been carrying a coffee and an immense black bag.

"Really, I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?"

The guy sighed. "No, it's ok, I needed a bath in coffee anyways. It's just been a shitty morning, and unless you know where to find a ballet dancer, like now, I'm screwed any which way you look at it."

He pulled his coffee soaked shirt away from his body and wrung it out. He dug into his bag and pulled out a t-shirt with a triumphant smile. Hailey's face was red with embarrassment. He gave her a smile and then offered his hand.

"Patrick."

"Hailey. Look, can I get you something to replace that drink? Please? I would feel much better if you would let me."

"Fine, that's ok. Not that I'm in the practice of letting girls buy me things. But, you do owe me, so I suppose you can be my Sugar Momma. Plus, I wouldn't mind changing out of this shirt."

They went to the Starbucks around the corner and sat at a table.

"So, I detect an accent. British?"

"Yes. I've lived my whole life in London. Well, except for college. I went to UC Berkley. I kind of lost a little of the accent there, though it comes back when I go home. So, why do you need a ballet dancer?"

"Oh, I'm in a band and we're filming a video. There is this really cool dance scene, but the dancer, our main character, fell and sprained her ankle. So, now we have to re-shoot the whole thing. God, there's too much pressure."

He buried his face in his hands. It felt odd to be pouring his heart out to this girl he didn't even know. True, she was beautiful, but still a stranger. He tried to avoid her gaze because his heart started pounding when he looked at her. Little did he know, she felt the same way.

"Well, I've taken ballet since I was 4. Maybe I can help?" she offered.

Patrick nearly leaped from his seat.

"You're kidding me."

"No," she said blushing.

"You'd really do this?"

"Well, I do owe you."

"You really don't owe me anything."

"I'll do it anyways."