A/n: as of right now My Way Home is on hiatus. i'm going finish it eventually. i'm just hoping to get all the chapters written before i post again so it won't take that long. sorry for posting this twice. i forgot the authors note the first time.
this is an idea that just popped into my head. tell me if its any good and if i should continue.
disclaimer:i don't own anything
"A travel voucher and food coupons?!" The man in front of me yelled. He banged his fist on the desk, thoroughly frightening the woman trying to help him. "Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?"
I shifted my weight back to my left foot and adjusted the strap on my laptop case. I knew the minute it started snowing that this would not turn out well, but me being me, I just had go ahead and drive to the airport anyway. My publisher was sure to hate me after this, I knew.
"Sir, this is the best we can do under the circumstances," the woman said, trying to calm the man. "We have thousands of people stranded because of the blizzard. Just be glad you're not sitting in one of the eight planes stuck on the runway."
The man ran a hand through his curly brown hair and let out a frustrated grown. "This is fucking ridiculous," he said and then left the desk. But not before running straight into me.
"Watch it!" I snapped, trying to push him away from me. He was huge! If I didn't know any better I would have pegged this guy for a pro wrestler. Or maybe an ex-con. He would make an excellent character, now that I thought of it.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, helping me right myself. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I straightened out my pea coat and, once again, adjusted my laptop case. "Are you okay?"
"Yep," he responded. "So sorry about that." And then he was gone.
I stepped up to the counter and smiled as best I could at the woman in front of me. She nodded in acknowledgment, probably just glad that I wasn't going to give her a hard time too, and handed me my vouchers. I sighed and left quickly, because there was no way I was going to stick around.
I picked a direction, left, and walked to the farthest gate I could reach in this wing of the airport. There were some people milling around, but for the most part, everyone was sticking close to the metal detectors in hopes that security would let them out to find a hotel. But, as I knew from experience (not mine, thankfully, but I once had a friend who got stuck in an airport), no one was leaving the premises until it was cleared by the National Weather Service.
I picked a row of benches, close to the wall (and a power outlet) and settled on the seats. At least it was somewhat quiet and I could get some writing done.
- - - - - -
Not twenty minutes later, I was in the middle of trying to get Melinda from making out with Travis to realizing that she didn't even really like him in the first place, and I was on a role. If I kept this up, I'd have the whole novel finished by Thursday, and Alana – A.K.A evil publisher from hell – wouldn't hate me as much for missing my flight to Chicago.
"Well you can tell Paris to kiss my ass," I heard a voice bellow. Definitely female, I noted. "No, I don't care, Frances. Valentino wanted me, so he better wait in New York or the deals off." The voice was getting steadily closer to me and I was losing my concentration. Melinda and Travis were fading into the background as this woman's voice got louder.
"Did you not hear me when I said that I do not care?" she continued. I lifted my head to see a gorgeous blond woman headed my way, a cell phone plastered to her ear. She looked awfully angry, but I'm sure that was an understatement. But despite that, she was still absolutely beautiful.
"Then he can get Heidi Klum for all I care." She paused, looked at her surroundings and sat on the chair directly across from me. "No, Frances, you call Valentino right now and tell him that I'm stuck in this godforsaken airport with a million strangers and I can't do a damn thing about it. If he still gets pissy then tell him to shove his spring line up his ass." She shut the phone angrily and threw her head back to groan loudly.
I bit my lip and shut my laptop, sliding it carefully off my lap. "Um," I said shyly. "Are you all right?"
Her head snapped back and she looked at me, incredulous. "Oh God, you heard that?" she winced.
I nodded. "I think a lot of people heard it."
"Oh great," she said and then started muttering something that I couldn't hear, and probably didn't want to.
"If it's any consolation, I doubt anyone cares enough at the moment. I think everyone is too caught up in the fact that they're stuck in an airport full of strangers for the night."
She smiled slightly and lit up her entire face. "I guess so. Anyway, I'm Rosalie. Rosalie Hale." She extended her hand.
"Isabella Swan," I said, taking her hand in mine. "Bella preferably."
Rosalie's eyes lit up the instant she heard my name. "The Bella Swan?"
I frowned. How did she know who I was? "Um, yes…"
"Oh my god! I love your books!" She squealed loudly and pulled my latest novel out of her oversized purse. "You're a genius. And the fact that you published your fist novel your senior year of high school just makes you even more amazing."
I was more than flattered. I didn't know anyone actually read anything I wrote. This was incredible. "Thank you," I said sincerely.
"Will you sign my book?"
I felt like I'd just gotten kicked in the stomach. This sort of thing never happened to me. And let me emphasize the never. Well, anymore, at least. I wasn't on the New York Times Bestseller list anymore. After my first book, people pretty much forgot who I was, and I went to college and went on with my life. There was the occasional person who would recognize my name and drop the polite compliment, but other than that I was pretty much a has-been.
"S-sure," I stammered.
Rosalie beamed and pulled a Sharpie from one of the many pockets in her purse. She handed over the book and pen. I took them in my hands, uncapped the pen and opened the front cover.
To Rosalie, I wrote, thank you so much. Always, Bella Swan. P.S- Valentino would be crazy to sign Heidi Klum over you.
I smiled to myself and handed the book back to her. "So what do you do for a living?"
Rosalie placed her book and pen back in her purse and zipped it up. "I'm a model."
So I was right, I thought. Damn I'm good.