It happened the first time because of LA traffic.
Rose, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Jake, and I had just come back from a Winter Break trip at my mom's place in Florida. It might have seemed kind of silly that we were trading sun and sand on one side of the continent for the same thing on the other, but most of my friends had never been to the East Coast. We hit a lot of theme parks, and hanging with my mom was always a riot no matter where you were.
That woman was pretty much certifiable.
Alice's sister had planned to pick us up from LAX an hour earlier, but a car accident along her route caused a delay. She had at least thirty minutes still to drive, and traffic was slow. Naturally, we grumbled at the news. We were all sick of traveling and couldn't wait to be back on campus.
Since it was 52 degrees outside—chilly by LA standards—we decided to wait in the building. I stared out the windows, Rose checked her Facebook feed, and the rest of the gang were involved in a discussion over investing money, or something like that. I caught only a few words here and there as I absently watched people get in and out of cars.
At one point, I saw a guy with a black shoulder bag push off from his resting spot along the wall and hurry toward the terminal's entrance doors. He looked like a man on an important mission. When an expensive-looking camera came out of his bag, I figured out pretty easily who he was—what he was.
I couldn't help the sound of disgust that came out of my mouth. In my opinion, those "photographers" were no better than disease-ridden vermin that needed to be squashed under a very large shoe. I hated how they swarmed around celebrities and harassed them to the point of creating dangerous situations. It drove me crazy that they practically had free rein to do whatever the hell they wanted to get their shots.
The paparazzo rushed by us and toward one of the security gates. He was soon followed by photogs. Like roaches, they crawled out of the woodwork and scurried across the floor. The eager, hungry expressions on their faces made me feel almost violent.
"I wonder whose life they're going to make miserable today," Rose said, glancing up from her phone. She shook her head sadly. "I wish there was a way to stop those assholes."
"Yeah," Emmett chimed in. "It sucks that they're allowed to get in other people's faces like that. What the celebs need is a good defensive line to keep those fuckers back." He paused and then snorted. "Or maybe some of those tree-huggers who chain their hands together in front of the logging machines."
A fun thought entered my mind.
"Or, what about a bunch of friends with nothing better to do...like us?"
What? A new story when I've got other WIPs going? I know, I know, but I need an occasional break from the angst! I figure a light, fluffy fic is a good way to keep me sane and motivated to write the more emotional stuff. Yes, I'm talking about you, The Fence.
Expect short chapters of around 1000 words and updates MWF. Here we go!