Chapter 1: Crazy Americans

Hey guys!
So, I've finally decided to write my first EVER Fan Fic…A good decision..? Hmmm…Anyways, this story is primarily based on Rose, Dimitri and Adrian, with other characters occasionally making an appearance. I wanted to write this after seeing a movie called Cocktail, because the story seemed to fit perfectly with our much-loved characters from VA. So… Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I in no way own the characters of Vampire Academy or the storyline of Cocktail. (Even though I wish I did :D)

DPOV

"Last and final call for passenger Martin Stevenson travelling on American Airlines flight 5973 to London. Please make your way immediately to Gate 21."

"Yeh, that's what she said the last time," I grumbled, running my hand through my hair with the frustration of finding my small, stupidly rainbow-coloured bag (I need to have a serious talk with Vika about how my brown bag went mysteriously 'missing' from my room about an hour before I was meant to leave) on the conveyor belt that seemed to be spewing out the same objects over and over again.

Then my trouser pocket started to buzz, when an object-my phone- started to move around. Taking it out of my pocket, I glanced down at the tiny glowing screen which read: Mama calling…I had only touched down about half an hour ago, and she was already worried about me in this 'dangerous foreign land' as she called it. Sighing, I pressed the little green icon of a phone, and put the phone to my ear.

Big mistake.

"DIMKAAAAA! I have been calling you for the past 2 hours!" Ah. Viktoria. That would explain the state my eardrums were currently in, but her voice did seem to portray some concern- maybe my little sister could be let off for her little game of 'bag swap'. "Did you stuff your phone up your arse or something?" she snorted, after which I heard a distant shout of disapproval in the background, no doubt from Mama.

"Vika," I warned in a cautionary tone- no way I was going to let her off now, "I couldn't pick up the phone because I was sat in a plane for eighteen hours remember?" I could imagine the frown building up on her face as she recalculated the time it took to fly from Novosibirsk to Los Angeles.

"Well I'm sorry for not being Einstein brainiac," she retorted, "but you should have called when you reached America. We had no clue what happened to you once you got onto that aluminium cage of doom!"

"Vika, it's called a plane, and I would have called if you'd given me 5 minutes to at least find my luggage. Speaking of which, what happened to my bag?" I said sternly, probably alerting her that I was going to launch into one of my 'lectures'.

"Oh that... Ermm... I don't know...Hang on Dimka, I think mama wants to speak to you," she replied hurriedly, and I heard some crackling as the phone was presumably passed on, along with a scolding directed at Viktoria for arguing with her brother.

"Dimitri! How are you? Did you have a good flight? The food wasn't bad was it? Why didn't you call earlier? Is everything okay? Wh-"

"Mama, I'm fine. A little tired I guess, but nothing life-threatening." It was nice to hear her voice again, even if she was overreacting because her 'baby' was in another country. "I'm twenty-four now mama, I can look after myself," I tried convincing her to stop worrying. An old lady next to me was now boring daggers into my side because I hadn't helped her put her five suitcases on the luggage trolley.

"Look, mama, I have to go now, but don't be worried about me. I'll call you later. Look after Vika whilst I'm gone, and look after yourself. I'll be back soon," I promised, whilst spotting a brightly coloured rectangle at the feet of a woman waving her arms around wildly at what seemed to be an airport official in the distance.

"Okay Dimka, don't forget I love you."

"I won't mama. Call you later, bye." At this moment I was speed walking over to where this woman was stood, and with further inspection, I saw that the rectangle was indeed my bag, complete with the Cyrillic writing for 'I love rainbows and unicorns' on it.

I really hoped there were no Russians around.

As I approached, I saw that the airport staff man looked like he really needed a coffee right now, as this woman with long, hazel coloured hair continued to shout at him, and he repeatedly seemed to be apologising for whatever she was getting so worked up about.

I was now stood behind her, and Fred- Cleaner –that's what it said on his badge- looked up at me with a defeated expression, probably suspecting I was another traveller intent on ruining his life with my complaints.

"Excuse me, I think you have my bag," I stated in the direction of the woman, who was now looking weirdly at Fred, because he had stopped apologising in order to look at me.

And then she turned around.

RPOV

What the Hell? As I turned around, I was greeted by a blue T-shirt that had some messed-up alien writing on it, which quite nicely outlined some washboard abs that were currently in my face. I stepped backwards and had to crane my neck back to see the face of this intruding stranger, and…wow.

He was tanned, and had a confused expression on his very handsome face. Silky, dark brown hair framed his face perfectly, coming just up to his shoulders, accompanied by deep, warm, chocolate coloured eyes that could drown you in seconds. He had a strong jaw line etched with some sexy stubble that appeared to be a few days old, and last of all I gazed at his lips. They looked so soft and pink and…kissable.

And not to forget he was probably over "6'5".

He cleared his throat and said carefully, "Is something wrong?",probably taking my 2 minute overview of him as a sign that I was an escaped mental patient that needed to be taken immediately to the nearest asylum, as I was launched further into dreamland as I noticed that he had a faint (perhaps European?) accent.

"No," I replied probably a little too quickly, "Did you say that this was your bag?" I pointed down to the bag with the same backwards writing on it as his T-shirt.

"Guess that's my job done then," said Fred, who seemed to have not existed for the last few minutes, and looked a lot more cheerful than he was before, quickly scurried into the direction of Starbucks, fearing that I'd call him back with another string of complaints.

"Idiot," I muttered, when suddenly I was reminded of the cause of my previous anger. "You!" I now turned to face mystery man who looked like he really didn't want to deal with any shit I was about to give him.

Well, he'd better deal with it.

"It was you who took my bag wasn't it? Where the Hell is it? I've spent like, an hour trying to find it, and then I find this thing that looks exactly like it with some shit crazy backwards writing on it! Give me my bag!"

By the totally startled expression on his oh so handsome face, I realized that I had gone into what Liss calls my 'explosion mode', but I really just wanted to get out of this damned airport and crash on my couch at home.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I have no idea where your bag is," he paused to gauge my reaction before continuing to say, "but I'm pretty sure that's my bag you've got there with the 'shit crazy backwards' writing on it, which by the way is Russian," he added, before he bent down with his tall frame to pick up the tiny bag.

What? So that's what the accent was. "Do I look like I give two shits if it's Russian or Lithuanian? I just want to get my bag and to get out of here! Are you sure you haven't seen it, or are you just playing games with me here, because I'm in no mood to play." Wow. I was being a bigger bitch than I usually was, but this was just irritating me now.

"No, I'm sorry I haven't seen it, but I'm sure you'll find it if you ask one of the people at the 'lost luggage' desk," he said whilst pointing at it a distance away. Okay, so he was hot, but not the brightest crayola in the pack.

"That's what I was just doing!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms up into the air.

Mystery Man then raised one eyebrow, and said slowly, "That was the cleaner you were talking to."

Oh right. That's why Fred kept on repeating 'I don't know' for each question I shot at him. Huh. Who was the dumbass now? Me.

DPOV

I openly stared at this woman in front of me. She couldn't have been that old-21?22 maybe? But whoa, she had a huge mouth on her. Yes, I suppose she was quite pretty, with her long, dark hair fanned out across her shoulders, and nice features, but I didn't think I've had such a bizarre first meeting with anyone. Ever.

It was slightly awkward between us, now that she had probably realized that she had been a little stupid, so I broke the silence and said,"I've got to go now. I'm sure you'll find your bag soon, those people will help you."

I felt bad leaving her on her own to find it, but it was pure coincidence that she happened to have the same suitcase as me, and I really needed to reach Adrian's soon, because I wasn't sure how long I could go on without any real food. (I wouldn't class aeroplane food as edible)

"Thanks for being absolutely no help at all! Have a nice life!" she shouted behind me, as I uncertainly walked away from her with my multi-coloured prize in the direction of the exit. Now that was just rude.

I pushed back the thoughts of my so far disastrous journey as a blast of hot air hit my face, as I was greeted by the blazing sun glaring down on the landscape. Squinting my eyes, I searched around me for a signature yellow and black taxi, as I knew even though Adrian had promised to pick me up, he'd almost certainly forgotten.

After a quick call to Adrian to check that miracles might happen, and the usual annoying voicemail message, I managed to get a taxi and squeezed into the back seat.

"Where we goin' then?" An elderly man (who I thought looked like he should be enjoying his pension) glanced back at me through his rear-view mirror. At first I couldn't even make out what he said because of his accent, but then I hastily took out a crumpled piece of paper from my trouser pocket and unfolded it to reveal some messy scribbles that were Adrian's address.

"*some random address in Santa Monica*"

"Santa Monica eh? Rich place. This your first time here?" the driver questioned, putting the car into reverse in order to avoid having to wait behind a huge delivery truck that looked like it wasn't about to go anywhere anytime soon.

"Yes actually, I'm visiting a friend," I said absent mindedly, because I was too busy noticing that we seemed to be going awfully fast along the road leading away from the airport now that he'd put the car into 3rd gear. Nevertheless, I was too tired to say anything at that point. Probably the speed limits were higher than in Russia.

As we joined a smaller road, I thought that the car was swerving about a lot, and when I looked at the driver I almost had a heart attack. His eyes were constantly drooping shut, with his arms occasionally falling away from the wheel, but then he would jerk awake again with a disgruntled sound.

This went on for about twenty-five minutes.

Just as I was about to say something about finding a bus that took me to Adrian's, (and as I was about to have a nervous breakdown regarding my probable impending death) he abruptly stopped the taxi in front of a largish, fancy looking block of flats with huge balconies and windows.

"We're here then!"

Honestly, nothing could have made me happier than to hear those words. Except freshly baked black bread of course. I took out my wallet and handed him quite a generous amount of bills that I'd exchanged for the usual Roubles at Novosibirsk airport. I literally jumped out of the cab, accompanied by my troublesome bag. I just wanted to get out of the taxi before he changed his mind and decided to drive into an oncoming lorry. You never know.

My experience of America had been quite...strange so far. First that wild woman at the airport, and now this irrational taxi driver who most likely had one drink too many yesterday. What was that thing Ivan always used to say?

Crazy Americans.

Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! The characters of Rose, Adrian and Dimitri are quite different in this story than in VA, but all will be revealed later! Oh yeh, NO OFFENSE TO ANY AMERICANS OUT THERE! I love America and my best friend is American, so don't take it seriously! :) It's just Ivan! (silly Ivan :P)