I reread my written thoughts for the 3rd time. I can feel the warm tears falling from my eyes and rolling down my face. I rip the paper out of the book and ball it up. I stand up from the seat of the plane."Where is the bathroom?" I ask the flight attendant.

"Back there." She points. I walk past her and head to where she directed me. I open the door and enter the bathroom. It's even bigger than my bathroom at home. Surely this is another perk of being in first class; after looking around, I spot a trash can beside the sink. I walk over and toss my crumpled paper into the trash. I turn towards the sink and run the water. Then, I cup my hands and let the water fill. I splash the water on my face, allowing the cold water to freeze off all the shame I know is on there. I grab a paper towel out of the dispenser and pat my face dry. My bun has now fallen, and my thick curls are all over the place. I take my black scrunchy off my wrist, pull my hair to the top of my head and then twist it into a bun. I look at myself one more time in the mirror. My eyes are red from the crying, and they're a little swollen. Hopefully, my parents won't notice. If they ask about it, I'll just say allergies.

I sigh and walk towards the bathroom door, opening it. The door opens and hits someone. They let out a wincing sound. When I move from behind the door, I see who I hit. The boy's head is tilted back. He has one black pair of jeans and a grey collared shirt. He is holding his nose with his thumb and index finger. He looks like he's in pain.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" I say frantically. "I am so sorry. Is it broken?" I can't even open a freaking door without hurting someone, I can't do anything right.

He sniffs and leans his head forward. "No, I think I'm fine." He says. I immediately notice his British accent.

"Are you sure?" I look at his grey buttoned-down shirt making sure there's no blood on it. There's no blood anywhere, so I must not have done too much damage.

"Really, I'm fine." He smiles. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've been hit in the face with a door by a girl." he laughs.

I smile back at him for a little too long. I snap myself out of my too long of a gaze. "Well, uh, sorry again," I move out of his way and head back to my seat. As I get closer to the seats, I see that my parents are speaking to two people who are across from them, sitting in my seat.

When I walk up to them, they are all laughing. "Hey," I say.

My mother stops laughing. "Hey, sweetie. Um, this is Phil and Jess Hews," she says.

I look towards the couple. They look older than my parents but not too old. The woman has shoulder-length brunette hair and is wearing a black and white polka dot dress and flat red shoes. Her husband has brown skin. His hair is black, with spots of grey showing on the side. He has on a black suit and a white shirt.

"Nice to meet you," I say respectfully, even though I'm mad that they are in my seat. It's weird standing up knowing we are not on the ground but in the sky.

"This is the baby girl that you had?" Carol asks.

"Yes." My mother answers with a bright smile on her face.

"Well, she isn't a baby anymore." My father jokes.

"Your beautiful dear." The woman says to me.

"Thank you."

Phil asks them "Is this your only one?"

"Yes, one is enough." My father says. The bright smile my mother once slowly fades away, she looks down and then back up.

"Do you think you'll ever have more?" Carol asks.

My mother opens her mouth to say something.  But my father speaks before her saying "Maybe, but right now, we're just trying to get this one to college in one piece."

"College is one of the best things you could ever experience," Phil says to me. I give off a small smile.

"Are you going to follow in your parent's footsteps and go to Yale? Schools love when the Alumni kids come to their school," Carol says.

"Well, I... I uh."

"She actually has an interview. Coming up with them, it's a few weeks away." My dad says. I snap my head towards him; I feel like a pot of water about to boil over. Is he lying? He has to be. He wouldn't do that. No, I'm wrong. That's precisely what he would do; I look over to my mother, who is looking at me; her eyes are saying. "Don't say anything. We'll discuss this later."

"Well, that is good. Even though were Brown all the way. Yale is a great school," Phil says.

"Well, we should get back to our seats," Carol suggest.

"No, no, no. You guys stay, catch up; I'll be at the bar." Everyone looks at me, shocked. "Just sitting, of course." I walk away from the aisle and go over to the mini bar.

...

"You want a drink?" The woman behind the bar asks. She's very pretty. She has grey eyes and raven black hair that is pulled in a low ponytail. She has on red lipstick, which goes well with her black and white uniform.

"I'm not 21," I say.

"Yeah, I know. But they're not looking" She looks past me to my parents. I also turn my head and look back at them; they're laughing at something. Whatever it is, it must be funny because I can hear them from all the way over her.

"I'm good," I say to her.

"Suit yourself."

"I'll have whiskey, Jack Daniels." The familiar British voice says. The bartender nods her head and turns around, fixing him his drink. He takes a seat in the chair next to me. I don't know why he would do that when there are four other empty chairs.

"So, is there a reason you hit me in the face with a door?" he says.

"It was an accident."

"Yeah, but you swung the door open pretty hard. Were you mad about something?" he asks.

"Life," I answer honestly to the boy I just met.

The bartender turns around and places a glass filled with liquor on the tale. "Cheers to that," He says before taking a swig.

"What are you going to New York for?" I ask.

"I live there. I just was visiting a few friends. In Pennsylvania."

"You live in New York?" I say, intrigued. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. I love everything about it, the sights, the history, the art, the people."

"The people?" I question. I thought people in New York were mean.

"They're not all rude." He says, smiling, knowing exactly what I meant. "So, why are you headed there?"

"Well, my parent's friend is opening this art gallery. It opens Saturday. " I tell him.

"What's it called?"

"Blank Canvas," I say.

"I think I heard about that; it's opening on 24th st, right?"

"Um, I don't know. I didn't really ask them the address."

He laughs at my comment; his laugh is soft and light; it's nice. "So have you been to new york before?"

"No, first time."

"Well, it really is an extraordinary place."

"How long have you lived there?" I ask.

"Two years, I'm a sophomore at Julliard."

"Julliard," I say, astonished I know Julliards reputation. That's a great school.

"Don't sound so shocked." He says.

"What do you do there?"

"Everything." he vaguely says.

I nod my head at his answer. Maybe he acts. He doesn't look like a musician; I can't see him playing the piano or playing the violin.

"Good Evening, folks just want to inform everyone it is twenty minutes till landing. If everyone could please stay in your seats at this time, it would be much appreciated." The pilot says from the intercom.

The boy gulps down the rest of his drink and then turns to me. "So do you want to go back to my seat with me, I can give you the ten-minute crash course on surviving NYC." he offers.

I look back at my parents, who are still engaged in conversation with Phil and Jess. I then turn back to the boy. "Sure."

...

The plane lands on the ground, slowing down on the runway.

"So that's basically how to survive new york." He says wrapping up or ten minute conversation.

"Sounds scary."

"It can sometimes be but, you'll get used to it."

I see my parents stand up from their seats, there hugging Phil and Jess. The boy stands up from his seat, and I do also.

"It was really nice to meet you," I say. "And sorry again about the door."

"Don't worry about it." He says. I smile at the handsome boy and turn around about to walk off. "Wait, I never got your name," he says.

I turn back around. "Jayda," I tell him.

"Alexander."

I chuckle at his name. Of course that's his name. He looks like Alexander. "Well, I'll see you," I say. He smiles again at me. I turn around and walk over to my parents.

"Who is that? He's cute." My mother whispers to me. I jokingly roll my eyes at her comment.