INT — AIRPORT LOUNGE
Yahoooooo! We're going to Thailand! My heart was basically moonwalking inside my chest.
The airport was huge—like, "I'm-an-ant-in-a-shopping-mall" huge. Not my first time here, but still wow. And yes, I may or may not have a lounge-access card because of… life. Hard work. Questionable contacts. Shhh.
The automatic doors whooshed open and—
"Working again?" Mr. Smile, the security guard, grinned at me.
Mr. Smile! My favorite familiar stranger.
"Nope! School trip!" I twirled my hand dramatically and marched in like a VIP gremlin.
And oh boy—the lounge was PACKED with my classmates. Of course. Rich kids and their rich-kid natural habitat.
I tugged my giant luggage behind me (maybe overpacked by 5 kilos… maybe 10…), wearing my comfy jacket, sweatpants, and clutching my precious plane eye mask like a treasure heirloom.
Checklist time!
Sunglasses—check!
Polaroid—check!
Passport—check!
Money—double check! Food, here I come!
My stomach: ready to conquer Thailand.
My heart: also ready. It was jumping. Jumping-jumping.
I scanned the room aaaand—aha! Dhylan and Oriel at a giant round velvet couch like two royalty members slumming it with peasants.
I dashed over like a happy puppy dragging a suitcase twice its size.
"Hellooo!" I waved both hands wildly and slid next to Oriel.
"Fyreee…" Oriel smiled at me. A twisted, tortured kind of smile. Something was happening.
I looked at Dhylan.
"She didn't want to get in," he said.
"What? Why?"
Oriel dramatically scanned the lounge with narrowed eyes. "Look at these people walking around like they're in a commercial. I feel icky."
"And," she jabbed her foot into Dhylan under the table, "this idiot DJ upgraded something and now we're here."
"Ouch! They insisted! And it's free, ocuh!" Dhylan scooted away, but Oriel's foot followed him like a loyal soldier.
"Hey, stop, my Ori… it hurts…"
She glared. Knife-eyes. Sharp enough to slice cheese.
Ugh, these two being all cute and couple-y while I'm over here like a broken-hearted pancake. Rude!
And of COURSE my brain betrayed me by thinking of Ice—
Focus! Focus, Fire!
I looked around. Familiar faces everywhere—seniors, freshmen, Lia, Rika, and Miss Murasaki stacking food at the buffet like she was building a shrine. Oh stars, I hope she doesn't make us write a thesis about airport lounges. No. No thank you.
"Oh, HE is not here," Dhylan said, stressing the HE like he was announcing a villain in a drama.
Both Oriel and I snapped our heads toward him.
"Did you tell him?" Oriel asked me.
I shook my head so slowly I looked like a sad bobblehead.
Her brows locked together. "Then how did he know?"
Dhylan scoffed. "I told you—I'm not numb. You're the numb one, my Ori."
Wink.
Kick.
"Ow! Wait! Before you kick me again—"
Oriel froze mid-kick.
"I can let him in. I have unlimited guests acess. But…" Dhylan glanced at me. "I don't think he'd accept."
Both of them stared at me.
Stared.
Staaaaaaaaaaared.
Like I was deciding the fate of the universe.
The velvet couch suddenly felt huge and dramatic behind me. I sank back, imagining Ice standing outside the lounge like a lost puppy—
Wait no, Ice is NOT a puppy. He is… a hedgehog. Or a dragon. A prickly ice dragon. With pride taller than me by three floors.
I imagined that all in my head, the animation was so high-tech!
He would never accept help. Not from anyone. His pride probably does weightlifting.
But I don't hate that. In fact… everything he has, he's earned. He's not some brat with money and attitude.
No, he's a brat with attitude and no money.
Wait—no—stop—Fire shut up!
"Why are you pouting like I gave you a death sentence?" Dhylan laughed.
"Because you DID, stupid," I huffed.
Oriel covered his mouth. "It's fine, Fyre. Let's enjoy the trip." She smiled angelically. Then turned to Dhylan and whispered with demon energy, "She's avoiding him, so shut up."
Poor Dhylan.
Poor me.
I turned toward the glass wall, expecting the frosted effect to protect me and—
No.
No.
NOOOOO.
The blur betrayed me.
Because through the ONLY clear patch—the ONLY ONE—I saw him.
Ice.
Standing outside.
Wearing casual clothes. Sneakers. Plain shirt. Simple pants.
Simple.
But on HIM?
Dangerously cool. Criminally cool. Arrest him.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Everyone is going to fall in love with him all over again—
My Ice—my—
WAIT.
WHAT?!
I DID NOT SAY THAT!
And then—
Did he just—
Did he just LOOK AT ME?!
Impossible!
He can't see through the blur—
Unless the blur was FAKE—
Unless fate was a troll—
Traitor glass!!
TRAITOR!!
Next Chapter:
I wasn't with him. I haven't even seen him.
But somehow—why is it always somehow?—everything still leads back to him.
His work as SCC hits me like a slap every time. He's incredible. Not just in the kitchen—everywhere.
And me? A literal side character? How am I supposed to keep up with someone like that?