She was a punk rocker with flowers in her hair. Sometimes, she was loud. Sometimes, she was quiet. Sometimes, she wanted tea, and sometimes, she wanted coffee. But she was always herself, even if she never made up her mind.

She played guitar in a band that never really played anywhere but their garage and a few pubs. They were a little too obscure for most people. She always kept a hairbrush in her purse, even though she never really brushed her hair properly.

She was wild and outgoing and shy and introverted all at the same time. She had hundreds of friends but only a handful she counted as such, and she was with them more than her own family. She was hateful, but loveable and nobody understood why.

She was short and petite, and she almost always wore the color navy. Her hair was two-toned and wild and always had a little flower somewhere in the mess of it all. Sometimes it was just behind her ear, a small, white daisy that she claimed was good luck. If she felt like going all out, she wore a full flowered headband.

She was one of the most complex, paradoxical people one could have met.

Luckily, I did meet her.

I was sitting in the lobby of LAX, waiting for my flight to board when I saw her walk by. She had tight, black leggings on with an over-sized white t-shirt. A navy colored bandeau showed through the thin material over her chest, and her feet were covered with tan colored shoes. She had a floral backpack on one shoulder, a guitar case on the other, while she pulled a black luggage bag with one hand and sipped on a coffee in the other. Her hair was back in a messy bun, a few white flowers sticking out of the end, and giant aviators covered her face. I didn’t know where she was going, but I had to find out.

I mentally prepared myself to talk to her, but when I turned my iPad off and looked up to find her, she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I panicked. I had lost her, I wasn’t ever going to see her again. I searched around the room again, but all I could find were random people, none of which were the flower-haired girl.

Before I knew it, my flight was being called. I sighed and stood up, taking my carry on and making my way onto my flight. I found my seat and threw my carry on in the compartment, sliding my way into my window seat. I waited patiently as other boarded, rows of crying babies and grumpy old men making their way in. I heard the click of my overhead compartment and looked up as my new neighbor for the flight sat down beside me.

Now, it sounds like a stupid, cliche love story already, doesn’t it?

Don’t assume things. Yes, the person who sat down beside me was her. She didn’t even look at me, even though all eyes were on her. She just curled her knees up to her chest and pressed her forehead against them, humming softly to herself. I didn’t even know what she was humming, so I couldn’t even start up a conversation without looking like a total douche.

A few seconds later, I felt a tap on my shoulder.I turned to her, an eyebrow raised, ready to hear what she had to say. I was all ears.

“Do you mind if I have the window seat?” I looked out the window on my left and then back to her. She still hadn’t taken off her sunglasses.

“No, I don’t mind at all.” She smiled a thank you and we switched seats. I stood up as she crawled her way into it, and I took my newly acquired position.

We didn’t talk for about an hour after that. She was too enthralled with her music, while I was too enthralled with her. Finally, our food came around and she took her earbuds out.

“Are you sure you, uh, don’t want to switch back seats? I’m left handed....” I figured I’d warn her. Sitting on the right of people was a daily struggle for lefties.

“I’m left handed, too. No worries.” She smiled and poked around her food, only eating whatever didn’t have meat in it. I guess she caught me looking at her plate, because she cleared her throat loudly.

“Would you like this? I don’t eat meat so...” I looked up at her. She had finally taken off her sunglasses. She had large, doe eyes that were a green-hazel color.

“Oh, sure, thank you.” She slid her food onto my plate.

“I’m Ashley, by the way.” Finally, I had a name.

“I’m Niall. Where are you headed?” She held back a laugh and slowly said,

“London...” And I wanted to slap myself. Of course I knew where she was going, we were on the same flight and she had an English accent. “I’m going home to visit family. You?”

“I’m just stopping by London to visit a few lads and then I’m heading off to Mullingar for my brother’s wedding. Do you live in the states?” She nodded, picking at the end of her pinky fingernail.

“South San Francisco. What about you?”

“I’m right outside of there, in San Bruno. I’m in the city a lot, though. A few of my mates live there.” She only nodded and picked up on earbud and shoved it into her ear. I assumed the conversation was over, so I finished my food without another word. She didn’t talk again for a few hours, and the whole time, I was on edge. I didn’t know what I was going to say to her if she tried to talk to me again. I was already shaken up just from the first round of small talk.

“So, you, um, play guitar?” She turned her head towards me. I probably shouldn’t have asked, since she didn’t know I saw her carrying her guitar case. She looked around for a second, before nodding and mouthing a quiet “yeah”. She looked a bit freaked out, and I immediately regretted my question.

“I mean, I saw you....earlier...in the airport. You were carrying a guitar case...”

“Oh, so you were watching me?” I shook my head, already panicking.

“No, no, I mean...I did...for a minute, but I wasn’t...watching...I mean-” I was cut off from my red-faced ramble by her laughing. I stopped talking and looked at her, our eyes meeting in actual eye contact for the first time.

“You’re cute,” she grinned.

And she didn’t talk to me the rest of the flight. I know I probably should have said something to her, but I couldn’t get myself to say anything. I was completely positive I had ruined any shot I ever had with her as we landed. We got off the plane in silence, and I got nothing more than a smile from her as she walked by me to exit the plane.

I had lost all hope and was mentally slapping myself when I made my way into the airport. I was about to completely leave the building, luggage in hand before I heard my name being said directly behind me. I turned on my heel, coming (almost) face to face with Ashley. She barely made it to the middle of my face. She looked up at me and held a pen in her hand. She didn’t say anything as she grabbed my free hand, turning the palm up. She scribbled her number on the skin, clicked her pen shut, and shoved it back in her pocket. She smiled, wider than she had before, and a small piece of metal showed at the top of her teeth.

She still didn’t say anything to me as she grabbed her rolling bag and guitar case and walked right by me, out into the streets of London.

Notes

Hi, guys! I'm new on this site, so I thought I'd post my new story up. So let me know what you think!
xx