Chapter 17 – Another Airport Trauma

Shannon was reclined on a black leather couch in the airport, as the annoying announcer on the intercom said, "Flight 338 to Fiji will be delayed. Please check the board for flight details." Great. Like she cared. She flipped a page in her word search magazine. Why the hell did she get a magazine that actually made her think? She would have gotten Allure, but Kirsten Dunst was on the cover, and that pretentious little brat annoyed the hell out of Shannon. Her stupid little wide face was always smiling that crinkly smile, and Shannon was so sick of her flip-flopping about her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal, whom all the girls in school used to coo over. "His eyes!" They would exclaim, but everyone knew that Boone had the best eyes in the world. She shifted her legs on the armrest of the couch. Why had she insisted on wearing these stupid strappy sandals today? They were hurting Shannon's feet like hell, but she knew that the only reason that she was wearing them was because they were at the top of her suitcase and she didn't want to have to be in that eerily quiet hotel room with Boone any longer than she had to. So she just grabbed the first pair. It had been especially annoying because when she had gone out of the bathroom, Boone had just been sitting there, staring at the wall, looking like an idiot. She smirked when she realized why. He smirked back, and eventually stood up, wobbling a bit, and kept shaking his head and saying things like, "Lap dance" and "bathroom" and "Jesus." These words segued into meaner words, like, "Bitch" and "gold digger" and "slut." Oh. That was the word there. Eight down, eight letters, place where you get wet. Bathroom. Suddenly, an ugly leather bag landed on her feet. Some Arab guy was saying,

"Excuse me, would you mind watching my bag for a moment? I'll be right back." Well, he kind of had already entrusted her with that task by throwing the bag on her feet, hadn't he?

"Sure. Whatever."

"Thank you," he said, as if she had just told him she would give him a kidney transplant, or something. She frowned a little as she saw Boone stalking towards her. He was doing his male model walk again. Shannon had no idea where he had gotten this habit, but she was going to have to talk to him about it again. And, oh fucking crap. Was he honestly wearing a necklace? Could this guy possibly be more embarrassing? Ha. There was a ton of stubble on his face, and Shannon knew why. He hadn't had the guts to go into the bathroom after the little lap dance incident. Shannon thought that maybe she should have taken off the necklace during that incident, at least that way it would have been more productive. He plopped down, jostling Shannon's side of the couch. She scooted closer to him.

"I couldn't get us on to first class," he said, sounding pissed. She flipped her legs around so that she was sitting. Fourteen hours in fucking coach?

"Why not?"

"Um, maybe you shouldn't have yelled at the gate agent," he said, smirking. For some reason, she realized at that moment, how unnaturally much both of them smirked. She made a mental note to be more original in her facial expressions in the future. Or she could just add that to the list of things to complain to Boone about.

"What, so you're on his side now?" She simpered, and stood up. Yes, maybe she was enjoying this just a little. He wasn't. He followed her with his eyes, annoyingly, and said,

"One day you're going to appreciate everything I do for you." And one day you're going to appreciate what kick ass blowjobs I give you, she thought.

But instead she said, luckily, "Yeah, I can't wait for that day." They stood up and headed towards the escalator. She pushed into his side to get ahead of him, no it was not because she wanted to touch him, she swore to herself. Once they were on the escalator, she said, "You can try again with that gate agent."

"Would you just let it go?" He sighed, turning his head away from her and looking longingly at some happy couple downstairs, hoping she wouldn't notice, probably. She did.

"Excuse me for not being pathetic enough to not want to sit next to some crying baby for the next 15 hours," she sneered. He turned back, pointedly.

"Oh god, you can be a bitch." What was this, his new favorite word?

"Oh, you wanna play?" I do, I do! "I will get you thrown off this flight."

"Yeah, how are you gonna do that?" He smirked. God damnit, stop smirking!

"I can do whatever I want," she said, like he didn't already know that. "I could tell them that…" She didn't really know what she could tell them. There was nothing suspicious about a tiny perfect man who walked like he thought he was a friggin' model. Although she could tell them that he had cocaine with him that he snorted so he didn't get hungry because he was a male mode – no, that was stupid.

"Tell them what?" He said, seeming to read her mind. "Who's going to believe you? You're not even capable of…" She didn't want to hear what he thought she wasn't capable of, so as she stepped off the escalator, she interrupted,

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." Suddenly, she had an idea as she saw a cop walk by. The Arab guy!

"Excuse me, sir?" She said earnestly.

"Yes, ma'am?" Said the cop. Shannon found it funny that he called her ma'am. With the way things had been going lately, she had convinced herself that bitch was the new ma'am.

"Hi, um, some Arab guy just left his bags in the chairs downstairs and then just walked away," she said, trying to sound worried.

"Can you describe him to me, please?" Ha. Boone was so going to see what she was capable of. But now he was probably going to give her a 'don't be racist, bitch' speech.

"Um, Arab." She said, rolling her eyes. "He went towards the shops." She turned and looked at Boone as the cop nodded in recognition and walked off. She leaned her face in towards him and smirked (oh, just screw this trying to stop smirking thing!), "How's that?"

"Impressive," he said sarcastically, "If you want to make a living making racial slurs."

"Charmed, I'm sure." She said, equally sarcastic. "Hey, come here for a second." She said, stopping him in the middle of the walkway. She tugged on the necklace in question, and put her fingers around the back of his neck and tried to unclasp it, ignoring the hairs on the back of his neck that were standing up from her touch.

"What are you doing?" He said between his teeth.

"How many times have I told you how fucking gay this necklace makes you look?" She pulled on it again, harder.

"Ow! That hurts! You're going to break it!"

"Oh no, you'll break poor… Esteban's heart if he knows you broke his promise necklace!"

He laughed ruefully. "Esteban?" But sure enough, when she tugged the necklace off, finally, he didn't argue when she tossed it into the nearest trashcan… not much, anyway.

"What gate are we?" she asked. He stalked his male-model walk ahead of her, motioning for her to follow. "Work it on the runway, girl…" She rolled her eyes as she dryly made a comment about the walk.

"Shannon, would you stop acting like I'm –" he turned around, looking pissed off again.

"Look," she said, stepping towards him and putting a hand on each of his shoulders, as if she were talking to a little kid. "I know you're not gay." He looked at her skeptically. "I know, I gave you a lap dance this morning," she said, quieter so that no one could hear. "I could feel that you were feeling a little – "

"Shannon, can we not talk about bodily functions here, please?" He pulled back, looking ashamed.

"Fine, no bodily functions. It just a little hard for me not to talk about them." He frowned. "But…" she said quietly, forcing him to step forward and grabbing his shoulders again, "A pretty little boy like you just shouldn't wear jewelry. Or walk the walk. Try to, you know, limit the hip swings. M'kay?"

"Shannon?" he said, "First of all, I think you're jacket is the tackiest thing I've ever seen, and you're wearing too much concealer over that hickey. It's obvious you're hiding something. And also, you don't need to use that condescending tone, everyone already knows you're a bitch, it's written all over that little slut ribbon that's 'covering' your ass."

"What the fuck is a slut ribbon?" She said, trying to disguise that she was a little hurt.

"Some more liberal people might call it a skirt, sweetheart." He said sardonically.

"Don't call me sweetheart," she said, and walked ahead of him. He sped up to keep up with her, and went ahead again. "Would you fucking stop going ahead of me?" Some Hispanic woman with three grubby kids following her gave Shannon a dirty look. She gave the woman a dirty look right back.

"You don't know what the gate is!"

"Then why don't you just tell me what it is?" She said, walking faster still, trying to keep up with him.

"Because – "

"I know why. It's because you don't know what it is either, and you're too lazy to look in your pocket, and you're going to get us lost." He gave her a look that clearly said, "You are completely, 100 percent correct." She turned him so that he was facing her, and reached into his front pocket to get the ticket. He looked uncomfortable. "Oh, don't you dare," she looked up at him, giving him a glare of death. "If you can't control yourself for one fucking minute while I –" she fished out the ticket and patted the pocket in faux sweetness and pulled back. "…Get this damn ticket out, it says… gate 42, let's go, it's that way, assface!" She pointed in the other direction, and, like the pathetic puppy dog he was, he following her ashamedly. At least he wasn't doing the Derek Zoolander anymore.

As they approached the gate to board the plane, Shannon noticed that the girl at the gate counter looked extremely frumpy and desperate. This gave her another idea…

"Hey," she whispered loudly to Boone as they stood in line.

"Yeah, what?" he said distractedly.

"You're going to hit on that girl at the counter and get us on first class."

"Um, what?"

"Go flirt with her. You're hot, it'll work."

"I thought you said I was gay," he said skeptically, but also looking quite pleased that she had called him hot.

"I said that you're practically metro sexual. Now go hit on her."

"What am I supposed to say?" He whispered hoarsely.

"Haven't you ever picked up a girl before?" She smirked.

"Yeah, but it's not right to make the poor girl…"

"Chicken," she said, and poked him in the arm.

"Fine, I'm a chicken." He shrugged.

"Boone," she murmured, breathing into his ear. "Please."

"Get away from me," he said, annoyed. Damnit!

"You're not going to do it?" She pouted.

"No."

"Please…" she grabbed his arm. "I'll give you the window seat…"

"Look, Shannon, what don't you understand about the word no?" She glared at him. "You know, I shouldn't have even let you in last night when you came to the hotel." Is that how he really felt?

"I didn't have anywhere to – " She argued, talking a little louder so that the person behind them, some little guy with sunglasses and a guitar, looked over at them.

"Just shut up." He said harshly, and she tried to fight off tears. When he spoke to her that harshly and that directly, when anyone did, but especially him, it really hurt.

He stepped up to the front of the queue, but then he noticed that Shannon was sniffling. "Hey," he said to the little guitar guy, "Go ahead." He pulled her aside. "What's the matter now, Shannon?"

"Don't use that tone, like there's always something the matter!" She cried, surprised by how insensitive he was being. Some more people, including a black woman and her husband, presumably, looking over. "You don't have to act like I've done something completely wrong!" She shook her head. She had done something completely wrong, so she said, "I mean, I did do something wrong, but I don't feel wrong about it. I mean, we both wanted it?" She lowered her voice so that the woman would look away. "About the money… I shouldn't have done that, okay?" She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. " But you shouldn't have used that tone with me."

"Sorry," he said weakly, and looked up at her again. "I'm sorry, Shannon." He wrapped his arms around her, and she accepted.

"It's okay," she whispered into his shoulder, and he seemed to have a flashback to the last time she had said this, and pulled back quickly.

"You ready?" He asked her, handing her a tissue.

"Yeah."

Sure enough, when Shannon and Boone arrived at their seats, there was already a braces-clad, iPod wearing young teenager sitting at the window seat. She looked up from her iPod and openly ogled at Boone. "Woah," she said, "Hi."

"Um," he said skeptically, "Hi?" Shannon smirked at him. Great. Fifteen hours with some stupid teenybopper who thought Boone was God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity.

"Do you want the window seat?" Said the girl, staring at him.

"It's okay – " he started, but she nudged him and interrupted,

"Yes. Yes. I want the window seat."

"Okay," said the girl, standing up and slid past Boone, looking inappropriately excited about doing so. Shannon giggled at the girl as Boone scooted over to the window seat. She wanted the window seat! Screw him!

"Boone," she said. "I want the window seat." He closed his eyes in frustration and sighed.

"Just let it be, Shannon."

"No, screw you!" she glared at him. The girl looked up at her in awe.

"How about we switch halfway through?" He practically pleaded. "Come on, she's waiting to sit down again." He nodded at the girl, who looked in disbelief. What the fuck! He wasn't that hot! She rolled her eyes at the girl and plopped down next to him. The girl sat next to Shannon.

"I'm Megan," said the girl to Shannon, who nodded ever so slightly. Boone nudged her, urging her to like, respond.

"Don't touch me!" She whirled around at him and leaned closer to him. "Stay the fuck away from me, Boone!" The girl gasped.

"Don't swear in front of that little girl!" He whispered in incredulity. Said little girl looked extremely insulted to be referred to as "little girl."

"Sorry," she said to the girl and looked at Boone expectantly.

"You can be such a bitch," he said.

"Boone, don't swear in front of that little girl!" She mimicked. "You said I was a bitch last night in the hotel, and look where that went. It's your fault I'm so fucking tired!" The girl's mouth dropped open. Well, bully for her if this entertained her!

"That's a hangover, and don't you think I'm a little tired myself? Like, more tired than you?"

"I didn't force you to go four times!" She whispered hoarsely, hoping the girl wouldn't hear. She did.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," interrupted the girl, who stood up and went towards it.

I'm sick of fighting," said Boone simply, blushing horribly from her comment.

"I know, we just made up, and now we're fighting again." Shannon said. "Sorry?"

"It's cool." He said. "Oh, wait, before I forget," he unzipped his bag and handed her her asthma inhaler. "In case you need it."

"Thanks, Boone." She smiled in spite of herself, and he smiled that sexy half-smile of his back at her.

The scrawny teenager came back right as the flight attendant started rattling off all of the exits and the security procedures. Blah, blah, blah, like Shannon was listening. Boone started breathing deeply as the plane rushed down the runway, and reached over to the armrest, groping for Shannon's hand. But Shannon had her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"I'm not afraid of flying anymore."