I clenched my eyes shut (not that it made much of a difference) and put my head back, my entire body tense. I was sure that my knuckles were white as I gripped the armrests with all of my strength. I focused on my breathing—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, slowly, one, two, three, four—trying to forget where I was. I seemed to do that a lot; no matter where I was, somewhere else was better. I guess that meant that nowhere else was better, didn’t it? I always found myself day dreaming, thinking about other things—I had a hell of an imagination—because the only place where I truly felt safe and at peace was my own mind. I didn’t trust the world—how could I? Trust was such a hard thing to earn from me, and any little thing could rip it away. And, let me tell you, once you lose my trust, you weren’t ever going to find it again.

So as my nerves continued to rattle right along with the seat I was in, I tried to picture myself somewhere else. It was a damn challenge, too, and I was hardly able to create a new setting in my mind when the plane shook violently in the sky again.

Apparently the weather was stormy and the air was unstable. The sound of the engine rumbled loudly in my ears, making it even more difficult to concentrate on something else. I heard a ding, probably indicating that the seatbelt sight was being turned on. That didn’t faze me, though; my seat belt was already secured tightly, nearly cutting off of my circulation and making it difficult to breathe.

“…Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that we are traveling through a rough patch of weather today. We have turned the seatbelt sign on and ask that you return to your seats, put your seats in the upright position, and set your tray tables back. We will let you know when it is safe to freely move about the cabin again, but until then…”

Yeah, no shit. The plane continued to bounce in the air, as if it were jumping from one trampoline to the next. Someone to my left was groaning, while someone to my right was snoring. I didn't like this; I didn’t like this one bit.

Sixteen years since I’ve been on an airplane, and this was the welcome I get? I sighed; life wasn’t a very fair player.

I tried not to think negatively, though; that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. The worst thing you could do was trash talk your teammates, no matter how much you hated being a part of the team. I was stuck with life, so I just had to deal with it.

I fumbled around my purse until I felt something familiar—the cool, slender rectangle shape. Ah, my iPod shuffle. I didn’t have much use for and iPod touch or anything fancy; all I needed was a few simple buttons whose locations were easy to memorize, and I was set. My earphones were already connected, so I stuck them into my ears and clicked “shuffle”, music instantly washing through my mind. The plane continued to skip in the air, but I imagined that I was on a boat, and we were cruising fast across glassy water, hitting waves every so often. Yeah, that sounded nicer. I would love to be on a boat right now, rather than an airplane, but you couldn’t go from North Carolina to California via boat as fast as you could via plane. And I unfortunately didn’t have that kind of time.

I relaxed a little in my seat, surprisingly, as I continued to daydream about a paradise that I had a feeling didn’t even exist—the world was grey, not crystal. The music flowing through my ears was incredibly comforting, though. My perceptible ears were a gift, making listening to music as smooth as a freshly Zamboni-ed ice rink. I went ice-skating once in my life before, when I was in my elementary days, and I remember loving the feeling of gliding on the newly smoothed out ice. That was before I fell on my face, but that’s beside the point.

I smiled to myself as my favorite songs blasted through my ears, drowning out the people snoring, the sky storming, and the plane engine roaring. I genuinely felt like I could fall asleep, maybe dream of some happy things.

Ah, but life wasn’t a fair player, remember? I groaned when I felt someone tap me on my shoulder from behind—my best friend, Phoebe, informing me that we were landing and that “all electronics should be properly turned off and stowed away at this point in our descent”.

My previously relaxed demeanor vanished quickly as we lost altitude in order to land, my body shaking and my hands gripping both arm rests to the point of being in physical pain. This was the scariest part.

At last, though, the landing gear of the plane created friction with the cement on the ground, and I breathed a sigh of relief. We didn’t have to wait long to get off the plane, thanks to my need for special assistance. Phoebe led me off of the plane, a hand on my waist to guide me. The only reason why she was doing this, though, was because we were entering new and unfamiliar territory. Normally, though, I could get around just fine by myself.

I felt bad that Phoebe was dragging around both of our suitcases, but she insisted. She was one stubborn girl, and I technically didn’t have a say in the matter, anyway.

“Ah, here we are,” she chimed, putting her arm out in front of me to tell me to stop walking.

“Montgomery and Wilson?” an unfamiliar man asked. I assumed he was going to be our driver, so I just let Phoebe do the talking.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Right this way, please,” he said, and Phoebe grabbed my arm again, leading me.

Phoebe and I waited patiently inside of the vehicle for the driver to put our suitcases into the trunk. With the sound of the car door slamming shut and the engine roaring to life, I knew we were on our way.

“How long are you ladies staying in San Diego for?” the driver asked.

“Several months, maybe, give or take,” Phoebe said.

“Oh, you are moving here?” he asked politely.

“Yes, you see, we are originally from North Carolina, but…” Phoebe began to explain our entire life story to the driver—typical Phoebe—but I tuned out. I already knew our life story; I didn’t need to hear it again. I rested my head against the window, which was surprisingly cool, but then I assumed that was due to the combination of the glum weather outside and the blasting air-conditioning inside. I could hear the sound of thunder in the distance over the sound of cars passing on the highway, and I smiled. I loved thunderstorms; the cracking of the thunder, the pelting of rain drops, the howling of winds. It all was like music to my ears.

I figured that it would be rude to plug my earphones in, so I just let the sound of nature plus the sound of windshield wipers swiping the glass serenade me. In no time, I felt the car stop, and I knew we were parking because the engine shut off. Phoebe and I got out of the car as the driver helped us bring our bags to our new front porch.

“Thanks a lot,” Phoebe said.

“Yeah, thank you,” I added with a smile.

“Have a nice day,” he said before leaving.

“Yay,” Phoebe giggled with a sigh.

“What?”

“We are here! I’m so excited!” she squealed. “Aren’t you excited, buddy?” she asked, poking me in the side.

“I mean, I guess so!” I said with a fake smile. I was more nervous than excited, but I wouldn’t admit that out loud.

“Good. Now let’s put our shit down and go out for lunch. I’m starving. We can familiarize with the house later, okay?” she asked.

“Sounds good,” I said. “When does our other stuff arrive?” I asked, getting the sense that the house was bare and empty.

“Tomorrow morning. We get to snuggle in sleeping bags tonight,” she giggled, and I laughed.

“Oh, joy,” I said in mock-sarcasm. “So, where are we going?” I asked, as if either of us actually knew of a good lunch spot in San Diego. I had never been here before, let alone leave the east coast.

“I’m not sure. There’s a pizza place down the street. Or we could find something on the boardwalk. Oo! We can take a walk on the beach later, too. I know how you like the sound of waves crashing,” she said enthusiastically.

I shook my head and smiled. “You know me well,” I said.

“It’s my job,” she nudged me, gentle sarcasm laced in her tone. I imagined a smirk playing across of her face.

“Let’s get pizza,” I said, holding my stomach. I felt like I haven’t eaten in years, and pizza sounded pretty damn good.

“I was hoping you would say that,” she said, a grin in her voice. “Let’s go, it’s only a half mile up the street,” she said, hooking her arm through mine.

As we walked, I sighed, resting my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Phoebes,” I said quietly. I didn’t have to specify what I was thanking her for—she knew. She gave my arm a squeeze.

“We’re here,” she said. “I’ll go up and order, you sit here, ‘kay?”

“Alrighty,” I said, sitting down, knowing that Phoebe was never a force to be reckoned with.

There must have been a line or something, because Phoebe was taking a while. I didn’t mind at all, though. I enjoyed just sitting here, the sound of oldies music playing softly in the background and the chatter of surrounding people filling my ears. The place must be popular, because it sounded like there were a lot of people. That made me smile—that meant the pizza was good.

“I’m back,” Phoebe sang, and I chuckled at her usual dramatic reappearance. “I got you a coke and a plain slice,” she said, handing them both to me.

“You are a gem,” I grinned, sucking the sweet, bubbly flavor up through the straw.

“Do you need help with your pizza?” she asked.

“I know where my fucking mouth is, dumbass,” I laughed. Sometimes, Phoebe could be a little too helpful—not that I would ever complain. I don’t remember ever specifically asking Phoebe to help me, but I definitely needed it, and she gave it to me unconditionally. Phoebe was the definition of a best friend. A best friend that I feel like I should pay—she’s that great.

“Er, hey,” Phoebe said, and the air suddenly shifted beside me.

“How’s it going, ladies,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Um, good,” Phoebe said, but I remained quiet, uncomfortable with this stranger sitting next to me.

“What are your names?” he asked.

“I’m Phoebe, and this is Faye,” Phoebe said calmly.

“Nice. I’m Bret,” he said. Then, he nudged my arm. “Hey, a wise guy once told me that there are two types of people in this world regarding wearing sunglasses indoors,” the guy said, and his breath was on my shoulder, so I knew he was talking to me. I sighed, as if I haven't heard this one before. And he wasn't even saying the joke right. What an air-head.

“Yeah?” I probed him to continue, trying not to let my gritting teeth show.

“Tools, or blind people,” he said bluntly. Anger swelled inside of me. I knew he was just trying to be funny, probably assuming that I was a tool, and that I would take my glasses off and bat my eyelashes at him. But, nope; Bret was unlucky, today, because there will be no flirting from me.

I ripped off my sunglasses angrily, not that it did anything. I guess I was just trying to prove some kind of point. I only hoped that I was staring him dead in his eyes.

“Well, I’m no tool, jackass.”

Notes

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Yay, new story! Thanks to @meganagainsttheworld for requesting that I do a Mike story--this is for you! :)
I'm way in over my head with adding a new story to my plate, but that's okay because I love writing and I'm excited about this!
Sorry, the guys don't appear in this chapter. They will, soon, though!

Let me know what you think so far :)