To Aya.
"Is there anyone sitting here?"
Krystel looks up from An Imperial Affliction by Peter Van Houten. "I'm sorry, what?"
A tall, dark-brown haired man who looks to be either her age or a year older, smiles down at her. It takes a while for Krystel to absorb the whole situation. She's currently waiting for her flight to Paris (business, not pleasure), which is a mere hour away from boarding. She had been waiting here for three hours, and was willing to walk to Paris if it meant she could get there before she boarded her plane. She finally looks up and appreciates the beauty that is the man smiling down at her, and wonders why on earth she decided now, of all days, to be dressed only in tattered jeans and a '#TeamCeleste' t-shirt. Suddenly, her white Converse sneakers seemed dirty and yellow-ish.
He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I must have mumbled," he said sheepishly, offering her a smile. "I was wondering if anyone was sitting next to you?" Good lord, he's British, Krystel thought with a smile.
A quick glance around the waiting area confirmed her suspicion that the other seats were filling up. As if noticing her hesitation, he interceded quickly. "I mean, I know there are a few other seats left, but I don't exactly want to sit next to that guy," he said, nodding inconspicuously at a fat, balding, sleeping man, who occupied about two chairs, and had drool trickling down his double chin.
She laughed, the ice finally breaking, and moved her backpack off of the chair next to her. "It's a free country. And airport."
Smiling gratefully at her, he eased down into the seat, letting out a huge sigh. "Thank you." He turned his head over to the side to smile at her. "You don't know how long I was debating with myself about asking you if I could sit here or not."
"And the reason for that is...?" she left the statement unfinished, getting back to her book.
"Well, you seemed so interested in that book. You look like the kind of person who prefers silence." He shrugged, his eyes (a nice, emerald green) asking her if he was correct.
Feeling suddenly conscious, she twirled a strand of her unruly black hair around her finger. "You could say that."
He suddenly slapped a hand against his forehead, making her jump. "I'm such an idiot."
Instead of asking him why he thought so, she shot him a questioning look, and he grinned. She realized that she liked it when he grinned; he seemed so boyish, and young. "Here I am, making all these assumptions about you, and acting like your best friend or something. And I don't even know your name. Heck, you don't know my name."
"Uh, so... you're asking for my name?" She clarified, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of him.
He laughed, and nodded. "Yeah! Okay, I'll go first because it's traditional for the male to start. Hi. I'm Owen. I'm a twenty-two year old, six-foot, two inches tall child who doesn't know what he's doing in this world. I currently work as a banker, but I'd like to change that. My favorite color is brown and I like eating croissants." He paused. "Especially the ones with cheese. And you?"
Krystel grinned. He was cute. "I'm Krystel. Twenty one years old and stuck in a boring world. I'm a dancer, and I'm on my way to Paris for this two month internship program my mom's forcing me to go to."
"Kryst-uhl," he tried saying, and failing miserably. His accent just wouldn't allow it. "Krystel," he said, finally. "Why do you say it in such a... unique manner?"
She shrugged. "Something I got from college. All my teachers would say my name like that. It was annoying at first, but I got used to it."
"Interesting," he said, "Wait, did you say you were going to Paris?"
Please let him be on the same flight as me, please let me be on the same flight as me... Oh, and please don't be a serial rapist- "Yeah. I leave in..." she checked her watch. "About thirty minutes. You?"
Owen looked like he practically deflated. "I'm on the one after yours, then. Shame."
She smiled kindly at him. "Well, it's not that big a deal."
"I like traveling with people I know," he said, frowning.
"So I'm guessing that it's a habit of yours to talk to random strangers in the waiting area?" she quipped, looking up at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"I could say the same for you," he said, sticking his tongue out.
"You're so mature," she giggled, getting her book, and opening it to the place where she left off.
"What's it about?"
"It's an extremely long story. Interesting and full of lovable characters. You'd probably like it."
He moved his head a bit so he could see the title. "An Imperial Affliction," he read slowly. "Sounds boring."
She closed the book with a snap, her brown eyes wide. "Oh my goodness! You did not just judge a book by its cover!"
"Well-"
"You did not! So not cool, Owen!" she gasped, and turned away from him.
She could hear him chuckle. "A bit touchy with your books, eh?"
"Try more than a bit," Krystel huffed. "People like that annoy me."
"Well..." he drawled out, poking her shoulder repeatedly. "You could convince me to read it."
She rose an eyebrow at him. "You lost your chance, bud."
"Ouch," he said, leaning backwards, clutching his heart. "Meanie." He saw the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile. "I was merely suggesting we discuss it over coffee and... a croissant?" he added, almost hopefully, and she couldn't help but grin and look over at him.
"Owen, I'm leaving in 15 minutes. I don't know what I could possibly say in 15 minutes that would convince you to read something you think is boring."
"Try me." The challenge in his emerald green eyes was clear, and Krystel loved a challenge.
"Alright, so you should read this book because-"
"I'm sold," he said quickly, and smiled at her.
"You're joking." She burst out, blushing wildly.
He laughed. "All I needed was your word, love, and I'd read anything you told me to read." He winked. "Look, I-"
"All passengers for flight 5JJ41 for Paris, please approach the boarding clerks now."
"My flight," she said slowly, wondering if this was a chance she was supposed to take. He seemed nice enough, and he was, okay, hot, but...
"Okay, look. I'll prove it to you. Uhm, uhm, uhm," he said quickly, obviously trying to catch her attention, even as she was gathering up her things. "Give me your name. I'll find you. I promise," he said. "I'll read An Imperial Affliction before seeing you again, and I will find you."
She paused, looking at him. He who was a complete stranger, who was... Ugh. She hated split seconds like this. "Krystel. Just Krystel. If you're really going to find me and prove it to me, I'm going to make you work for it," she said smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Instead of appearing afraid of her challenge, he seemed... inspired. "Consider it done," he said, and grinned at her. "Have a safe flight. Good bye!"
"You too. Bye!" she nodded back at him, thinking that as she boarded the plane, that he was just too good to be true; too handsome, too funny, too nice. That he would never find her, and would never read An Imperial Affliction.
Well, guess what?
After five days in Paris, he did.
"Kryst-uhl," he tried saying, and failing miserably. His accent just wouldn't allow it. "Krystel," he said, finally. "Why do you say it in such a... unique manner?"
She shrugged. "Something I got from college. All my teachers would say my name like that. It was annoying at first, but I got used to it."
"Interesting," he said, "Wait, did you say you were going to Paris?"
Please let him be on the same flight as me, please let me be on the same flight as me... Oh, and please don't be a serial rapist- "Yeah. I leave in..." she checked her watch. "About thirty minutes. You?"
Owen looked like he practically deflated. "I'm on the one after yours, then. Shame."
She smiled kindly at him. "Well, it's not that big a deal."
"I like traveling with people I know," he said, frowning.
"So I'm guessing that it's a habit of yours to talk to random strangers in the waiting area?" she quipped, looking up at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"I could say the same for you," he said, sticking his tongue out.
"You're so mature," she giggled, getting her book, and opening it to the place where she left off.
"What's it about?"
"It's an extremely long story. Interesting and full of lovable characters. You'd probably like it."
He moved his head a bit so he could see the title. "An Imperial Affliction," he read slowly. "Sounds boring."
She closed the book with a snap, her brown eyes wide. "Oh my goodness! You did not just judge a book by its cover!"
"Well-"
"You did not! So not cool, Owen!" she gasped, and turned away from him.
She could hear him chuckle. "A bit touchy with your books, eh?"
"Try more than a bit," Krystel huffed. "People like that annoy me."
"Well..." he drawled out, poking her shoulder repeatedly. "You could convince me to read it."
She rose an eyebrow at him. "You lost your chance, bud."
"Ouch," he said, leaning backwards, clutching his heart. "Meanie." He saw the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile. "I was merely suggesting we discuss it over coffee and... a croissant?" he added, almost hopefully, and she couldn't help but grin and look over at him.
"Owen, I'm leaving in 15 minutes. I don't know what I could possibly say in 15 minutes that would convince you to read something you think is boring."
"Try me." The challenge in his emerald green eyes was clear, and Krystel loved a challenge.
"Alright, so you should read this book because-"
"I'm sold," he said quickly, and smiled at her.
"You're joking." She burst out, blushing wildly.
He laughed. "All I needed was your word, love, and I'd read anything you told me to read." He winked. "Look, I-"
"All passengers for flight 5JJ41 for Paris, please approach the boarding clerks now."
"My flight," she said slowly, wondering if this was a chance she was supposed to take. He seemed nice enough, and he was, okay, hot, but...
"Okay, look. I'll prove it to you. Uhm, uhm, uhm," he said quickly, obviously trying to catch her attention, even as she was gathering up her things. "Give me your name. I'll find you. I promise," he said. "I'll read An Imperial Affliction before seeing you again, and I will find you."
She paused, looking at him. He who was a complete stranger, who was... Ugh. She hated split seconds like this. "Krystel. Just Krystel. If you're really going to find me and prove it to me, I'm going to make you work for it," she said smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Instead of appearing afraid of her challenge, he seemed... inspired. "Consider it done," he said, and grinned at her. "Have a safe flight. Good bye!"
"You too. Bye!" she nodded back at him, thinking that as she boarded the plane, that he was just too good to be true; too handsome, too funny, too nice. That he would never find her, and would never read An Imperial Affliction.
Well, guess what?
After five days in Paris, he did.
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