Arizona

I just got off my flight from London to America. It was ok, but there was an occasional kicking on the back of my chair from some annoying kid behind me. I glared at him once or twice, and after a while he finally stopped. I read a book the whole entire way there, so I never got bored.

I had just arrived, and I have to admit, the American airports are a little bit confusing. I didn't know where to go at first, so I just followed some couple that got off the flight before me. After an hour of following them around, I concluded that they were lost too, and they were starting to realize that I was following them.

I quickly ran the opposite direction to avoid the police and an awkward situation. I find my way to the bagging area though, and I get my luggage. I check twice if it is my luggage though. The last thing I want is some random person's clothes for a two week trip. I also needed my books, which were in my suitcase.

I figure that my mom is here to pick me up, so I make my way to what I think is the place for the people of my flight to go for their ride. I wait for a while, thinking that the face that will indicate me leaving or not, is my mom.

I wait for twenty minutes at least with still no sign of seeing her. I then start reading signs to entertain my boredom. Then, a sign catches my eye when I read it. It says, "Arthur Kirkland". I look to see who is holding the sign, and it is someone I had never met before.

He had strawberry blonde hair that fell in areas that complimented the rest of his face. There was this one hair thought that defied gravity and stuck straight up, but even that looked great on him. His eyes were a beautiful sapphire blue, and his cheeks were tinted with the slightest bit of pink. He looked… perfect. But he was an American so I didn't fancy him.

I walked over to him, because he was probably some American that my mom knew, and was sent to pick me up. She must have been getting things ready for me since this trip was kind of rushed. When he saw me, his face grew into a smile, and he ran to me.

"Hey! You must be Arthur! Can you say something?" he said to me, overly excited. "Umm. What is your-," I said, but was cut off by him, who said, "British accent. It is you! I am Alfred Jones! Welcome to America!" His accent was kind of weird. It wasn't British, but it wasn't a country accent. It was almost like he had no accent at all. I guess that was a lot better than those annoying country accents…

He patted me on the back, and threw the sign in a nearby trash can. He took my bags, and showed me the way out of this airport. His first impression made me think that he was overly happy all the time, and was a very excited fellow. Did he just get like this because he was nervous about meeting people, or was he actually always like this? I prayed that I didn't have to spend the rest of my two week trip with him…

I followed him through the parking lot to his car. His car was a black BMW which was very nice. I thought he would have some kind of pick-up truck that modern day cowboys had in the movies. He put my luggage, which wasn't very much, into the trunk of his car. I started to climb into the passenger's side of the car, when he said, "Whoa, you want to drive? Think you can do it when you are not used to the sides of the road?"

I looked down to see that I climbed into the driver's seat. "Blasted wrong side. I hate America," I yelled as I went around to the other side and sat down in the correct seat. He laughed the entire time. God, after only knowing him for five minutes, he has already annoyed the hell out of me.

As we were driving to my mom's house, I was in no mood to engage in any kind of conversation. I guess since Alfred was the talkative type, he didn't like the silence. Five minutes into the car ride he started asking me questions.

"Hey so have you ever been to America, or is this your first time?"

"First time."

"You don't like talking… do you? Do you like Arizona?"

"I don't, and I have no idea what Arizona is like."

"Arizona is pretty cool… lots of deserts. So, do you already know about the surprise your mom has for you?"

"No, and I don't care."

"Ok…. So, what kind of music do you like?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

"I just… Ok, Classic rock it is."

He turned the radio up loud to some song that I had never heard of. The radio said that it was called, "Carry on Wayward Son" by some band called Kansas. Why would a band be called the name of a state? Could they really not come up with anything better? I tried to sleep, but the song's lyrics kept getting stuck in my brain.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

What kind of lyrics were those? Alfred started to rock out to it though. I had to admit, I did like the tune a lot. I almost wanted to sing along, but I had no idea what any of the lyrics were. I decided to save myself from the embarrassment and another conversation, and pretended to not like the song.

He started to dance to the song though. He used the wheel as an imaginary drum set, and I was fearful that he would accidentally spin the wheel, and drive us off the road. I was sad that the really good song was over, but happy that I wasn't risking my life.

A few classic rock songs later, we pulled into a driveway that probably led to my mom's house. I got out of the car, and went around to the trunk, and waited for him to open it, so I could get my things. As he was getting my stuff out, he asked, "So, how long has it been since you have last seen your mom?" "A year," I reply.

"Wow you must be really happy to see her," He responded handing me my suitcase.

"I guess so," I said.

He didn't really respond to my answer. I don't know how that could have upset him, but in some way, it did. He closed the trunk, and led me to the obvious front door to my mom's house. Her house was located in a small neighborhood that probably consisted of five houses.

All of the houses in this neighborhood were fairly large. They were a lot nicer than my apartment back in London. Her house was surrounded with a garden that spread out until the lot of the next house. I have to say, I wouldn't mind living in this part of America.

Alfred opened the door before me to hold it open as I walked in. He was being more of a gentleman than what I would expect from an American. When I walked in, the smell of cheeseburgers and fries filled the air. My mom appeared before me with an apron on, and before I knew it, I was being squished by her embrace.

"Oh Arthur, honey, I haven't seen you in forever! It is so nice to finally see you again!" she said, as she finally let me go. "Ya," was the only response I could muster up, as she led me to the kitchen. I stared at what she had cooked for dinner, trying to wipe the disappointed look off my face. I was never the biggest fan of cheeseburgers. This was mainly because I had never seen one in my life, and had no idea what they tasted like.

Alfred definitely looked like he had seen them before. He look like he absolutely loved them. "Alfred you can stay for dinner if you'd like!" my mom said, inviting Alfred into the house. Alfred stared to me, as if to ask for my approval. I rolled my eyes.

I didn't want to give him an obvious answer or anything, but I did want him to stay. He was unlike any American I had ever seen, and I just couldn't stop staring at his beautiful sky blue eyes… He was still annoying though, don't get me wrong; it's just I wouldn't mind seeing him a while longer…

I guess I gave him the wrong impression by rolling my eyes though, for he said, "That's ok, I think I will pass this time. You two need to catch up, but I guess I will see you tomorrow." "Honestly, Alfred," my mother said, "Mother and son time can wait. Enjoy dinner!" She watched him with hopefully eyes. I almost laughed at the indecisive worried look in his face.

He finally said, "Yes," and strolled into the kitchen. I wonder how they knew each other. I guess I will find out over dinner. A few minutes later, we were sitting down, eating cheeseburgers at the dinner table.

The dinner normally seated four but my stepfather was on a trip to visit his son in Japan. I have never met the son, and I don't think I ever will. He wasn't even at the wedding. I was told he wasn't the biggest fan of people, and always stayed in his home like a recluse.

The cheeseburgers were surprisingly good. It took Alfred a lot of begging to get me to first try them. The only reason I ended up trying them in the end, was because I wanted him to actually shut up, and stop being annoying. I didn't show him my enjoyment for the burger because I didn't want him to go on and on about how he told me so, about it being good.

Throughout dinner, there was lots of small talk. I learned how my mom and Alfred knew each other. He was her neighbor. He was going through his last year of school at a college nearby, which meant that he was my age (21).

He was in school training to be a secret service agent, but he was also a pilot as a hobby. He was kind of interesting, and he probably loved cheeseburgers more than life itself, yet he looked really in shape. I guess secret service agent training does that to you.

After dinner was over, he helped clean up, and left. My mom and I caught up on a few things that happened in the past year, and then she showed me to my room. I was quite tired from the flight and the obnoxious American, so I immediately passed out on my bed without even changing into my pajamas.

~*00*~

The next morning, I woke up to the sun shining brightly in my window. This was definitely a first. I had never woken up to a sunny day in London ever in my whole entire life. I rolled over on the bed, still groggy from jet lag. I sat up, and noticed that I was still wearing my clothes from last night.

I lazily got up out of bed, and went over to my suitcase to get a change of clothes. After I was in different clothes, I went downstairs to find that my mom was already eating. "What time is it?" I asked, yawning, as I sat down next to her. "One 'o clock," she said, sipping her morning coffee.

I noticed this, and said, "Really mom? Coffee?" She stared at me and laughed, "What? It is actually really good! You should try it." "I'll pass," I said, starting to open the book that I brought downstairs with me.

She then slammed her coffee down on the table, and yelled, "Arthur, I forgot to tell you something really important!" "What is it?" I yelled back, scared slightly due to the loud outburst.

"It is your surprise, and he is arriving in five minutes. I am so sorry."

"Yes, what is it, mother?"

"For the next week and a half, you and Alfred are going to take a trip to Arizona to go camping!"

I stared at her, slightly pissed, but also slightly interested in what the time with Alfred would be like. I didn't like camping though, so I asked, "Do I have to?"

"Yes, I already paid for a tour guide, and Alfred is probably already on his way over, now go upstairs and pack your things."

I reluctantly ran upstairs, and grabbed my suitcase which thankfully had not been unpacked yet. I ran back down stairs just in time to hear the obnoxious American knock on the door.

My mother opened the door, and welcome Alfred in. Alfred stood by the door, and yelled to me, as I walked towards him with my suitcase, "Are you excited for Arizona? I have actually gone to where we will be getting our tour guide when I was a child, and I remember that it was a lot of fun!"

"Oh goody," I said sarcastically. My mother glared at me, making me flash a fake smile to Alfred letting him know I was sorry. He looked completely un-phased by what I just said, so I continued, "Here are my things. Let's just get this over with."

I handed my suitcase to him, and started to walk out of the door to his car. My mother stopped me of course, and demanded a hug before my departure, but soon enough Alfred, and I were off, or so we thought.

Right when we pulled out of his driveway, he said, "Hey, not all your clothes that you packed are like that, right?" "What's wrong with what I am wearing?" I snapped at him. I was wearing slacks and a green vest sweater over a white shirt. I was also wearing dress shoes. I guess this wasn't exactly the best attire to go camping with, and all my clothes that I packed were the same.

I gave in, as he laughed a little, "Fine, but what am I supposed to do? I was packing to see my mom, not to go camping." I rolled my eyes, and crossed my arms. He said, "I guess we could stop at my house, and you could borrow some of my clothes. I probably have something that fits you." He smiled at me until I finally decided to say yes.

He pulled into his driveway, which was one door down, and we both got out of his car. His house was the same size as my mom's, but he didn't have it surrounded with a garden. "Do you live with someone else to be owning such a big house?" I asked, as he unlocked his front door to get into his house.

I followed him inside, and he said, "Nah. Don't think I ever will, actually, but I guess I could have some huge party every once in a while with this house!" I looked around his house, and it was a lot nicer than my mom's house. Not cleaner… but nicer. There was a bar next to the kitchen, and the living room was pretty big too. He certainly had a great taste for interior design. He had a few soda cans laying around in the living room and in the kitchen, and some clothes on the floor, but other than that, the house was pretty nice.

He showed me around the down stairs, and then had me follow him upstairs to his room. His room was pretty big. It was definitely larger than my room back in London. He had a king sized bed, and a TV in front of it. It looked like he used the TV for video games more than actually watching it.

He showed me to his closet which was yet again, very big. It was a walk in closet, but wasn't filled completely. He had some clothes on the ground of his closet like he was always in a hurry, and couldn't clean up because he didn't have time.

He looked at me awkwardly, and said, "Sorry about the mess. Is it some British rule to be really clean?" "No!" I yelled, but calmed down, "We just don't like living in a pig sty." My attempt to make him feel bad failed for he only laughed. Why was he always so happy? Honestly, he is the first American I have met, and all I think of when I think Americans now is some happy, hot – I mean annoying, funny guy. Surely not all of the Americans are like him right?

Alfred started taking certain clothes off of racks, and gave them to me. "I'm not sure if they fit, so you can go into my bathroom to try them on, so we can pack them," he gestured me to the bathroom. I closed the door, locked it, and took a look at the clothes he gave me.

In my hands were a few pairs of jeans and a bunch of t-shirts. I decided to try on his pants first because I was worried about if they were too long for me. I slipped my shoes off, and laid them aside. Then, I took off my slacks, and put them on the bathroom counter in front of me. I felt kind of weird trying on his pants when we just met, but I guess I really did need fitting clothes for this trip.

When I tried on his pants, they were a little bit loose, but they still fit fine. They were black jeans, but the rest of the pants were dark blue jeans. He had a good taste in clothes. I definitely wouldn't mind dressing like this for two weeks. Maybe I might even where this stuff when I get back to London…but that would be pushing it.

I took a look at the rest of the pants, and all of them looked the same. I bet they all fit me, so I didn't try them on. I took a look at the shirts. He gave me about ten t-shirts. They all had either some weird phrase on them or a bold print. I chose a dark green t-shirt with white writing on it that I couldn't understand.

It was loose like the pants yet not too loose. I grabbed my shoes and the clothes I wasn't wearing at the time, and walked out of the bathroom. When I walked out, he was on his bed examining a jacket. When he saw me his eyes widened, as he said, "Woah…" "What?" I said, blushing. It started to become very hot in his room… "Nothing! I just didn't think that you'd fit in my clothes. I am glad I kept my clothes from when I wore them in high school!" he said, laughing his weird outburst off.

I waited until after he stopped laughing to speak again, "So, I guess I will go switch out my clothes with yours in my suitcase." I started to leave the room, but he said, "Oh no worries! I already brought your suitcase up here while you were changing!" I stared at him for a second. I felt my heart melt, but why? It was just a nice deed from a friend to a friend.

I then noticed my suitcase on the bed. It was still unopened so I guess he wasn't the nosey type which is good. I opened it up, and started to take my stuff out. "Wait," I said, "Wouldn't it be easier to do this in your car, and leave my clothes there, rather than bring everything to the car after unpacking here?"

"Oh," he said, realizing his mistake, "Well, I guess you could just leave your stuff here in my room, and we can get your stuff when we go back!" I agreed, and unpacked and packed again. When I was finished packing he threw to me the jacket he was messing around with. As I caught it, he said, "Here. It gets kind of cold on Arizona nights, so I thought you'd want it."

"Thanks," I said, staring at him with yet again, wide eyes. He was so nice, and everything he did made my heart melt. Was this what making friends was like, or was this more? I had never experienced the two before, so I was in the dark. Though I wanted to believe that I would not enjoy my time with this American, I couldn't help but feel like this was going to be the best two weeks ever…

A/N: So that was the first chapter. I wanted to space out my first and second chapters a little bit via putting in some descriptions and un-needed scenes. Anyway, review for more! I have already written the next two chapters, so if there are reviews than you won't have to wait long. Thanks! Review!