Apparently, along with being a nervous eater, I'm a nervous drinker.

When the plane first started to shake, my balance flew out of the window along with my chances of staying alive. I didn't even realize I was sitting on Joshua's lap until I heard his voice behind my ear.

"I don't mind, but I don't think sitting on my lap is pretty safe..." He trailed off, obviously not freaking out about the turn of events at all. Blinking, I hastily plopped myself in the beige leather seat beside his. I didn't even have time to be embarrassed about my little 'lap' incident, because there was only one thing on my mind at that moment.

I was going to die.

This was it. My life would end and I would have only been kissed once by some asshole, never had the chance to get my eighty grand, and only had one unfortunate job that got me killed.

Needless to say, I was hyperventilating. If the plane going down didn't kill me, my lack of oxygen would.

I could feel myself vibrating in my seat and letting out short surprised yells every time the plane gave another jolt. I heard Joshua's whisper through one of my screams asking me to relax. I was going to tell him off, but Little Miss Gola strolled up and sat down on his lap. A place also known as my previous seat.

"Babe, I'm so scared! Hold me?" Gola pouted seductively. I was about to tell her that it wasn't safe to sit on his lap but thought better of it. Joshua obviously didn't object or talk to her about any safety measures. How could he if he was swapping spit during those moments? Luckily, at least her dress was back on.

If this thing was going down, then their own stupid decisions could get them killed.

I don't know when it happened, but at some point I started to speak. They weren't safe coherent sentences though. The stress and nerves broke my common sense and almost made me black out. Almost.

I was for sure awake, but conscious? Not so much.

"...I've always been secretly freaked out about never having a boyfriend. I mean is there something wrong with me? Do people know about my Justin Timberlake crush? Because my expectations aren't that high I swear! It's just that ever since I heard 'Rock Your Body', I fell in love you know? Oh my god! What if I die alone? Jesus, I can't breathe. Can you breathe?" I rambled all of this to Gola who had stopped kissing Joshua to look at me confusedly.

In the back of my mind I knew that the girl didn't comprehend a word I was saying. She didn't need a panic attack to be totally confused like I did.

I turned to Joshua and began to question him instead, "Did you know that I can't feel my fingers? Yeah, for reals. I can't breathe either, did you know that? Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

That last question seemed overly important to me. I think I even repeated it a couple of times, because when he first denied it I didn't want to believe it.

I had officially lost it when I asked, "But why? You're too pretty not to have a boyfriend! Don't worry you'll find your prince charming one day..." Joshua looked mildly uncomfortable at my last statement.

I wasn't the only one who noticed that I had gone off of the deep end. A tall glass was thrust into my hand by some ambiguous being, and I didn't think twice before I drowned the liquids in one big gulp.

Then I did it again.

And again, until I lost count of how many glasses had been sent into my hands.

Finally, I got drunk for the first time in my life.

I didn't know this while it was happening; all I knew was that all of a sudden all of my problems had evaporated away.

Everything became a happy but foggy memory. From the lazy flight attendant informing us that everything was now alright, landing in Paris, stumbling and eventually tripping over the jet's steps,  and ultimately to the moment I decided to hop onto the baggage conveyer belt and belt out 'Rock Your Body' at the top of my lungs. Little did I know that Joshua and Johnny would never let me live that last episode down for the next couple of days.

I was so gone that I blacked out.

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My cheek was freezing. Actually, no. My cheek was numb.

I cracked open my eyelids and flinched when my lashes got stuck together. The unending  gunk in my eyes was the culprit of that.

I took a few moments to get myself together, until the realization that my head was laying on the porcelain throne came to me.  Could my life get more disgusting?

Lifting my head up from the toilet, I found myself extremely dizzy. After forcing my limbs to unfold, I stood up and glanced around the room. I took hold of a clean white towel that had been rolled beside the sink. After scrubbing my face with it, I recognized the words 'Hilton' in elaborate cursive letters.

So I was in a hotel.

Embarrassment quickly washed over me when I realized how stupid and unprofessional I had acted.

No, no, no!

 I was so disappointed in myself for acting like such an idiot. This would never happen again. I had learned my lesson, and if I had anything in me, I would take full responsibility and control of my actions.

Staring at my sticky stringy hair and bloodshot eyes, I made a promise to myself. I wiped the residue from my face and stepped into the shower.

Things were going to change around these people and I was going to make it happen. I had realized that there was no one that I could trust in this unknown place. But that was perfectly fine with me.

I contemplated all of this the way most people do when they're in the shower. Shower time was thinking time.

I rolled and twisted my wet hair into a bun and added on some light mascara, after I had stepped out of the shower. I found my puke green luggage resting beside the hotel bathroom door and opened it to tug out a pair of jeans. I slipped on the skinny jeans, followed by putting on my aqua blue flats.  My white shirt came on after.

It took me a full hour before I finally found the rest of the people from the jet. Most of that time was spent running around the damn place, asking random hotel staff for help, and getting stuck in an elevator.

I guess that fact that I didn't know a speck of French might have influenced my unfortunate luck.  To say I didn't start off on the right foot was an understatement. I didn't let that deter me though.

I had a boat load of pent up energy, mostly sourcing from my embarrassment. No better way to play off being embarrassed then by being mad and demanding.

It was 7:45 by the time I spotted Johnny's gelled head from above a booth. Figures that they were all doing the obvious and having breakfast. I had in my hand the small purple notebook I had specifically prepared before the trip.

It was filled with all of the appointments, times, and places that Joshua had to be in. If I had studied it before the trip I would have known about the underwear photoshoot beforehand.  But, I didn't. My lazy ass had cringed at the thought of reading through the shallow bullshit.

I was prepared to go all out and set my foot down with force. I was going to let Joshua know that there were going to be some major changes and that he better not complain. Getting his butt on time to that underwear shoot would be my first order of business.

Obviously, something had to prevent me from getting what I wanted.

"Well, well, well, our party animal is up!"

Johnny exclaimed before taking a sip of his black coffee. The taunting smirk on his lips couldn't get any wider.

I regretted leaving my chopsticks on the jet. They would have really come in handy at that moment.

Forcefully slapping my palms on the table, I leaned towards him. I put on my best evil eye before I spoke, "What the hell do you do for a living anyway?"

"Darling, I'm wardrobe manager. I make sure that all of our models look the best way they possibly can.  Although, my services could extend to other managers, I can be kind believe it or not, and you clearly need my kindness..." He trailed off, doing an eye sweep over my entire body.

"Too bad I'm not here to look pretty, I'm here to do my job," I said behind clenched teeth. My patience was running dangerously thin at that point. Especially when Johnny chuckled at me.

Ok, so I might not have set the best impression from the start. It's tough to act professional when you're having a panic attack. Sue me.

"Look, I don't have time for your unnecessary offers. Joshua has his appointment in about an hour and we need to get going. Where is he?" I scanned the room looking for a familiar tall Brazilian model.

I stopped scanning when I heard Johnny's reply from under my nose.

"Gone."

Had I heard that right?

"Where?" My question was laced with slight panic.

The nonchalant shoulder shake from Johnny made my nerves shoot up to impressive extremes.

Damn it.

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