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I gaze out the small window by my right and let a heavy sigh escape my lips. At first, I thought the white duvet cloud that surround, engulf, the big plane in a white mist was fascinating, even exciting, but the thoughts are long gone by now. It was fun the first five, no, three minutes.
"Not very exciting, huh?" a voice smooth as silk suddenly says from beside me and I jump slightly in my seat before I turn my attention towards the source of the sound.
"No, not really", I say in my soft voice as I meet the gaze of the guy who sits beside me, "I thought a window seat would make this long flight bearable but I guess not." Judging by the guy's American accent and the flight's destination, I come to the conclusion that he is probably from somewhere around L.A.
"Well", he smiles and show off his dimples, "if you want to switch places, don't hesitate to knock on my shoulder."
A light laugh bubble up my throat and a faint smile creeps onto my face. "Don't get your hopes up", I tell him and he shakes his head and comb his fingers through his honey blonde hair.
"I knew I would get the worst seat", he jokes, "but at least it seems like I got some nice company. My last flight wasn't very enjoyable. I got stuck between two kids with way too much energy and way too little respect for strangers."
"Sounds lovely", I reply in a joking tone while I try not to stare at his emerald green eyes. Truth to be told, I'm a sucker for cute guys with beautiful eyes but I got way too much self respect to throw myself head over heels for the first guy I meet. I like to take things slow, which is why I ended my last relationship. Let's just say my ex and I didn't share the same opinions on that subject.
"I'm sorry", the guy says with an excusing smile, "but I didn't catch your name."
"I'm Linnea", I tell him, knowing there's a chance he may not have heard it before. I don't think it is very common in America compared to the number of Linnea's in Scandinavia.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Linnaya", he says, pronouncing my name wrong, "I'm Chase."
"It's nice to meet you too, Chase."
I thought I would spend the whole flight listening to music, sleeping and catching up on tv shows, but it seems like I was wrong. Chase and I engage in a conversation and I find it surprisingly easy to talk to him. I learn that he is nineteen, one year older than me, that he lives and study in L.A and that the reason to why he was in Sweden is his childhood friend who moved there with his family ages ago.
We both share a burning passion for milkshake and fries and we both think that mustard on a hot dog ruins it completely. We basically talk about everything between heaven and earth and somewhere during the conversation, the butterflies I've had in my stomach disappears or at least goes to sleep. Nevertheless, I feel calmer than I've done for more than a week. Being so close to my dream, close enough so that I almost can touch it, has made its mark on my poor nerves.
I've been stressing, packing and worrying at the same time as I've been happier than in a long time. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to do like a lot of young adults before me; study in America.
I find the dream kind of ironic in a way. I don't really like studying, yet here I am, on my way to live my dream which includes just that. Sometimes, the world doesn't make sense.
Chase and I keep talking until a flight attendant comes with what is supposed to be dinner and after that, I'm starting to feel tired and decide to take a nap. I use a sweater as a pillow before I once again plug in my earphones. I've decided to take it easy with the music listening because I don't want my phone to die before I arrive at the campus where I'll be staying.
My eyes flutter open after what seems like an eternity, but what probably is only a couple of hours, and I groan and mumble something incoherently, not being fully awake yet. I tiredly rub my eyes and glance over at the window to my right, my sweater lying on the floor. I furrow my eyebrows at the sight, not understanding how it can be laying there when I'm still leaning my head against something.
My eyes widen to the size of saucers as I realize I'm not even leaning onto the same side as before and in the speed of the light, I remove my blonde head from Chase's shoulder with a terrified expression plastered onto my face.
"I'm so, so sorry!" I say, a blush slowly creeping onto my cheeks. Chase, who is on his phone, gaze over at me and smiles.
"It's alright", he chuckles, "I'm glad to be at your service."
I press my lips into a thin line, recollecting my pride. What if he thinks I'm annoying? What if I was snoring? Drooling?
I wipe my hand around my mouth, as discreetly as possible, and state that I did not drool. I sigh in relief.
"Linnaya", Chase says, "it's fine. You don't have to be embarrassed. It could might as well have been me and not you."
"Alright", I mumble with my voice laced with shame and cheeks burning as a result of the intense blush. If there's one thing I don't like with myself, it got to be my extreme blushing. I blush easier than you tie your shoes and let me tell you that I dislike it with a passion almost stronger than my love for milkshake and fries.
I end up drowning in my embarrassment, despite Chase's reassurance that it's fine, and take out my laptop to catch up on some shows which I've already finished loading. Sadly, the butterflies in my stomach woke up again the same time I did.