With a Lack of Wanderlust

The sun shone brightly into the plane, waking me from my much needed sleep and nearly blinding me as I opened my eyes. I blinked, coming to realize that I probably had only gotten to rest for an hour or two, which was much less than what I desired. Slipping on the sunglasses I had in my carry-on, I looked out the window and down at the clouds. A sudden sick feeling rushed over me and I knew there was no way I wanted to be there.

My family and I had woken up bright and early to board a plane from Los Angeles to Birmingham. My brother, dad, and mom had all gone willingly, but had to practically carry me to the car, pry me from it once we got to the airport, and push me onto the plane. I know that any normal girl would love to spend two weeks in the U.K. But no, not me. Never.

I glanced over to my mom, making sure it was evident that I was annoyed. She simply shook her head, probably not wishing to have the same argument we’d had over the past month for the 50th time. Groaning, I slammed my head back into my seat. My mom was the only one I’d ever be willing to argue with, and this is the first time it actually seemed like there wasn’t a chance of her giving in.

“We’re just seeing how it is,” she finally stated, “This trip is no where near signifying anything final…but please try to enjoy it.” I looked back at her, defeated. She gave me a smile, “You know, I heard the boys there are a lot cuter than in California!”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll meet some totally fit British boys while we’re there.” My older brother, Nick, smirked, peaking at me over his Order of the Phoenix book.

I rolled my eyes at him, “Because I’d even be able to confront them if I found them cute.” Nick laughed obnoxiously and went back to reading just as a thought crossed my mind. “Wouldn’t they hate us anyway? Because we’re American?”

“What makes you think that?” My mom sounded appalled.

I shrugged. “Val told me they hate America and think we’re all stupid.”

“Well, once they meet you, they’ll think otherwise. You’re a beautiful and smart girl. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, mom.” I sighed. I’d given up fighting that one a long time ago. “I’m well aware.”

I spent the rest of the very long flight biting my nails, pulling my hair, and wishing I hadn’t been as stubborn as I was; to at least have brought something to do. But all I could do was sit and think about how terrible this trip was going to be. Sure, I didn’t have to go alone. I had my brother to talk to. If I had to go through it all by myself, it would be worse. But It still had to stay in an unknown city, with strangers. And my parents were actually going to try to make me associate with them.

---

Once we finally exited the plane and my parents led me and Nick to baggage claim, I was beginning to feel more and more anxious. I glanced at all of the people that we passed, feeling their condescending looks burn into me, each and every one of them. My breath began to quicken and I grabbed Nick’s hand.

“No one’s even paying attention to you, Izzy.” He smiled at me, giving my hand a squeeze. He let go before I could respond and walked up to grab his suitcase. I hurried after him and began my search for my purple duffle bag, trying to forget the thoughts of passing judgment. I just wanted to get out of there and to the hotel, or wherever we were staying and possibly get some sleep.

I finally spotted it and pulled it off the claim, quickly turning to leave. But with my wonderful luck, I ended up just running into someone, dropping my bag in the process.

“Oh, sorry, love,” He said, a deep voice and an accent compelling me to believe that he wasn't a tourist, and that he was most likely coming back home.

“It’s alright…mate.” I tried my best to imitate him and pull what I’ve learned from television to sound as if I was returning as well. He smiled and handed my duffle back to me. At this point I finally got a good look at his sandy colored hair, purple LA cap, and chestnut eyes. I realized that it was now completely obvious he had been visiting my home city and that he was most likely my age. It also didn’t take me long to realize that those very chestnut eyes were now giving me an intense look of expectancy.

I turned and gave nick a pleading look, rocking back and forth in my converse. “Well talk to him!” He mouthed, shaking his head as if it were obvious. I sighed an ran my fingers through my bangs and turned back to the boy.

“Er, I’m Isabel,” I stuck out my free hand with a grin. He gave me a look of confusion and returned the favor. The expression on his face worried me that the accent I was attempting to play off was terrible.

“I’m Liam,” the look on his face faded away as we shook. He dropped his hand to his waist and slipped it into his pocket, giving his hair that reached just above his eyes a flip to the side. “Are you from around here?”

“Yup, just a couple blocks away.” I looked over at Nick for his help to make this seem at least a bit more believable.

“Oh really? Me t--”

“Fuck, where’s Nick?!” I cut Liam off, looking around and completely forgetting about keeping up with the accent. I found my mom to be right beside me and calmed down a bit, but the lump had already formed in my throat and wasn’t going to go away as soon as I wished it would.

“What?” Liam and my mom both said at once.

“Oh, sorry.” I brought my accent back, “Mum, this is Liam. Are we going to be on our way now?”

“Yes, dear.” My mom decided to play along, “It was nice to meet you Liam,” she smiled toward him.

I did the same and hitched the strap of my bag over my shoulder, “I hope to see you ‘round sometime.”

“Yeah,” He gave us an awkward wave and we headed off. I lied though. I hoped I’d never, ever see him again.