Lucas

Damn it! Fucking Hell. I finally made it out of the overcrowded plane and onto the ramp. I was so late. I wasn't going to make it to her gate in time. I cinched my backpack tighter as I picked up my pace to get to her. I looked out from beneath the bill of my baseball hat and quickly tried to orient myself to where I was in the large airport, and where her gate would be. I'd planned on meeting her at her arrival gate, but that got so fucked up when I had to change planes back in Pensacola when they discovered the birds they had hit on the last flight coming in had in fact caused damage to one of the engines.

My flight's later arrival had lead to us circling the airport twice before we were clear to land. My phone was dead, of course, not that I would've been allowed to get on it while we were flying. I wasn't about to waste any time trying to fish it out and plug it in. It was bad enough I was going to have to try to figure out her departing flight from the large screen of flight statuses.

When I got to the large display of flight information, my eyes quickly slid down to all the departing flights from here to Los Angeles. I knew her flight was leaving at 8:13pm, and when I found the only flight that matched, it was of course on time to depart...in less then five minutes.

"Fuck," I bit out before turning to find the gate. I walked the fastest pace I could without looking like a lunatic and headed straight for the last gate in this wing of the airport. It took everything I had to not push through the group of incredibly slow seniors taking a group vacation or some shit. Then, I'd had to maneuver past a family that must have included at least seven children. It was like the world was working against me at ever fucking turn.

When I finally stepped onto the carpet in front of her gate, it was mostly empty. The display was flashing "Last Call" and I was in a full panic. I moved toward the small line of the last few boarders and found her there. Her arms were crossed around her as if she was hugging herself, and the expression on her face was so sad it made me hate myself even though none of this was my fault.

"Bailey!" I shouted, forgetting all about not looking crazy and running straight for her. She turned and looked in my direction, her face lifting with a smile as soon as she saw me. She stepped out of line and ran to me. The two women working at the gate continued to check in passengers, but we didn't stop our sprints to each other.

"I thought you didn't come," she said just before I slid my hands up to her cheeks and pulled her face to mine. I didn't have a lot of time—none really, but I needed her lips on mine more than I needed to breathe. Kissing her felt better than I remembered. It took every shitty thing about that day and wiped it clean. Her small hands were wrapped around my biceps, holding on to me like I'd been holding on to her.

"I'm here," I said quickly when we moved our faces to come up for air. I didn't give her long, pulling her back to me for another one. She laughed against my lips and put her arms around my neck.

One of the women at the gate tried to get our attention, "The flight is full and we need her to board if she's on this plane." I heard a small whimper from Bailey and my heart cracked. It physically broke. I felt it as if the pain sliced through the middle and made it stutter in its beating. How could I let her go? We had been cheated out of our time together. When the flight attendant cleared her throat, I felt Bailey shift back down flat on her feet from where she had been standing on her tiptoes.

I saw the tears in her eyes as she took a step back. I kissed her forehead one last time. "I'm sorry," I said, dropping my bag off my back and quickly yanking her book out of the front pocket.

"Me too," she whispered. She pulled my book from the side pocket of her bag without ever taking her eyes off of me.

"Have a safe flight. I'll fix this." I promised. "I'll make it up to you."

"Promise you'll keep writing," she demanded as she walked backward toward the gate that I fucking hated. I hated an object because it represented the reason we were both hurting. I wanted to throw something at that asshole fucking door that she was going to walk through. I wanted to punch it and kick it and....maybe just fucking lock it and tell her to stay with me.

"I promise," I said instead. Holding inside all the rage I was feeling for not being able to stop her. She had to go back home to finish school, and I had to get on a plane to start the last three years of my military service. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer and watching one slip down her cheek beneath her glasses hurt me something terrible. "I promise," I repeated again, hoping she could hear me as she turned and walked down the ramp and back out of my life.

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