A/N: my first 'When It Happens' fic. Plz don't flame, peepz. Maggie's POV
Disclaimer: own nothing and you know it
The Minute I Get to Florida, I'll Miss Josh
So Josh and I had this one second long thing. It only lasted one second. How could I give up Florida just to be with him? Because I actually got into a college. That's a miracle in itself.
Then we factor in other crap and some math and if I even acknowledged that I liked Josh, it'd be too hard to leave without saying goodbye and the mushy, cliché kiss. Then he'd need my number and I wouldn't know if I wanted to give it to him or not because he's Josh and I wouldn't want to hurt him, but I wouldn't want him to call or text me every five minutes. He's awesome, but no.
And no matter how much I hate to admit this, I do like Josh. I mean, not like "Let's run off and get hitched in a drive-thru chapel so you can knock me up in an hour or so". It' more like "This is Josh. This is my best friend's boyfriend's best friend and I'm not allowed to let myself succumb to his level by admitting that I have feelings for him". It's that kind of situation.
Trying to tell him that would be liked talking to a brick wall, so I wasn't going to say anything. And Sara got inside info that he thinks I have a rockin' body. And no doubts that I do, but jeez, him liking me back doesn't help my situation any.
So I quietly sit on my seat on the plane and I jus know one thing that'll kill this whole entire trip and me being in Florida with models and hot beach-going guys and the sun and the surf and the sand.
The minute I get to Florida, I'll miss Josh.
Just knowing that makes me want to jump right off the plane. Not like while it's flying 'cause we haven't even taken off yet, but really, like when it's still on the ground and all, I'd jump out instead of waiting to get to Florida to realize I miss Josh.
The number one reason I suddenly hate Josh: HE'S GOING TO MAKE ME MISS HIM, COME BACK TO THIS CRAPPY TOWN, AND TRY TO MAKE UP FOR LEAVING HIM!
But the bonus is that maybe that'll prove me wrong on loving the drive-thru chapel. How bad can drive-thru chapels be anyways? They probably have guys dressed up as Elvis. And I love Elvis. So what could be wrong?
The seat squeaks under me. And Sara's got me doing that thing that she usually does now.
If the seat squeaks again, I'm getting off the plane to see Josh and talk to him.
The seat doesn't squeak under me. No matter how much I move and twitch and squirm. It will not squeak.
The kid behind me kicks my seat.
If he does it again, I'm going to see Josh.
I faintly hear the voice of his mother telling him to not do that because it's not polite to kick the back of stranger's seats.
"Screw this." I jump out of my seat and grab my bag from the overhead compartment and tear out of there faster than an emo kid at a Miley Cyrus concert. I push past everyone in my way, racing for the door and praying that it's not closed yet.
I'm not going to wait until the minute I get to Florida to miss Josh. I miss him now. And I hate saying that. Even thinking it makes me want to twitch more than the school's twitchiest kid. And I think he's a nightmare.
I'm able to get out. The good news is that I only had one bag and the rest of my stuff was just being shipped out to Florida. Suddenly, I'm hating Florida more than ever. It's ripping me away from Josh more and more by the moment.
Running through the airport is hell and catching a taxi takes twenty minutes and I'm not even sure if I could pay the stupid driver guy to take me home on ten dollars. I shouldn't have spent my cash on all those magazines. And I had been planning to use those to keep my mind off of Josh.
Secretly, I hate him.
Secretly, I freaking love the stupid guy.
It's a lose/lose situation. Great.
As I fall into the seat, I recite off the address to Josh's house (I looked it up in the phonebook, and no, I'm not a stalker) and begin to tap my fingers on the knee of my jeans impatiently. The driver pulls out of the airport and I'm instantly thinking of Josh.
What would Laila say?
Say? No, she'd smack me silly and say I was a disgrace to our social standings.
Don't even get me started on her and her little pink bubbles. For her, it just happens. The rest of the world has to work for love. Love sucks for everyone except her. Lucky son of a gun.
Josh. Is he still interested? In me? Or another girl? What if I lost my window of opportunity? What if I already lost him? What if jumping off ye plane was my stupid waste of time and now I'll have to go buy another plane ticket to get to Florida and I'll be there in tears because the minute I get to Florida, I'll miss Josh even though we were never actually together and if he doesn't care, we still wouldn't be together and-
"Seventeen eighty five," comes the driver's voice, harsh with a clearly distinct Jamaican accent. Jamaican guys are always awesome. I wonder if Josh is Jamaican at all. Of course he's not. He's Josh for crying out loud.
"One moment." I throw open the door and race up the driveway and then up the long sidewalk leading to his front door and I bang on it so hard and ungracefully that he must think I'm some kind of freakish stalker and he'll never open the door for me. I huddle in my jacket, looking over my shoulder at the clearly pissed off driver.
Then the sound of door hinges catches my ear and my head whips around to the door and Josh is standing there with a large piece of a cookie in one hand and crumbs all over his lower lip.
What did I ever see in this guy?
"Hey, Maggie," he says, mouth clearly full of cookie. The back of one hand wipes his mouth. "What's up? Aren't you supposed to be in Florida?"
I shuffle my feet, suddenly realizing this was a horrible idea as he stares at me and I'm shy. Which is like a total first for me. I'm never shy. Never ever.
"I missed you."
The words are a confession that just spills from me without my saying so and they hang in the air, suspended by nothing at all but the weight and meaning of what I had just uttered.
"Missed you too, Maggie," he says with a soft by goofy smile on his cookie crumb covered lips.
Relief swept over me. We could talk this over and I could get myself into wherever he was going and the drive-thru chapel was still an option.
"One more thing," I say, more scared about this than the first part.
Josh raises one eyebrow, taking another bite of the quickly diminishing cookie.
"Can I borrow, like, ten dollars to pay the cab driver?"
A/N: fin. Plz review!