corner down the street, heading our way, and I tug in a sharp breath. “I know you do,” I tell her quickly. “This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, though. I’ll try and come home for Christmas, I promise.”
The Prius pulls up to the curb, and I give her a hug that’s so big it knocks the wind out of us both.
“Love you, Carley,” I murmur at her ear.
“I love you most, baby girl,” she whispers back, breaking away from me. “You call me when you get to the airport,” she orders as I load my bags into the back of the car. “And when you land. And when you get to the school!”
“Okay, Carley, Jesus!” I’m grinning like a fool as I open the car door. The driver glares at me, looking like he’s moments from yelling at me to either get in or fuck off. “I promise, I’ll call!”
She waves her hands. “All right, all right, I’m sorry! I’ll just … I’ll just miss you!”
“I’ll miss you too!”
“I don’t have all day,” the driver snaps.
I wave to her once more. The driver is still bitching and groaning about wasted time as I slide into my seat and shut the door, but I barely hear him as he pulls away from the curb because I’m too busy watching Carley until she disappears from sight.
I arrive in Los Angeles a little nauseous, but excited, nonetheless. My first experience on a plane was thankfully uneventful, but the landing was jolting, and my stomach is still an uncomfortable ball of knots. It doesn’t help that I’m nervous as hell to get to Angelview and LAX seems bigger than the whole town of Rayfort. Anthony had told me reps from the school would be at the airport to drive me to the academy, so I stop in a bathroom on my way to the baggage claim area to check my appearance.
No surprise, I look like shit.
I’ve never been a supermodel—don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty enough, but I’m short and thin and I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll eventually make it out of a B-cup—but today I look particularly godawful. My dark hair is disheveled, and my face is pale, save the large red blotches on my upper cheeks and the dark circles under my ocean blue eyes. Usually, my eyes are my favorite feature, along with my full lips, but the irises staring back at me are almost … faded. Probably thanks to my lack of sleep last night.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw James, his hazel eyes accusatory, so I stayed up, pacing my bedroom and half-listening to my favorite playlist.
I pat my hair to try and tame the worst of the flyaways, then splash cold water on my face, leaving me looking a half step up from shit. Hopefully, whoever is picking me up understands that I was just on a five-hour flight.
With a dejected sigh, I grab my laptop bag and duffle and squeeze past a mom and her three kids to exit the bathroom. Making my way down to baggage claim, I gaze around in search of my ride.
It doesn’t take long for my eyes to land on a gorgeous girl and guy, holding a sign up with my name on it. They’re way too young to be working for the school, so they must be students, even though they’re not wearing uniforms. The girl is tall and slim, with boobs that look a little disproportional to the rest of her. Her hair is a short, platinum blonde bob and her makeup looks professionally done. If she were close friends with the Kardashians, I wouldn’t be shocked. Her expression is one of sheer boredom as she swipes at something on her phone with a ridiculously long fingernail.
The guy standing next to her is jaw-droppingly good looking. Like, he almost looks fake, he’s so handsome. He’s tall and has the kind of build that screams Captain-of-Every-Fucking-Sports-Team, with cut biceps straining the sleeves of his gray t-shirt and wide shoulders. He’s got a shock of thick red hair that’s styled in that messy, sexy, bedhead way. One of his hands is tucked into the pocket of his black jeans, which must be tailored. No off the rack pair would hug his narrow hips so perfectly. In his other hand is the sign. He’s gazing around the terminal with mild interest in his bright eyes, his foot tapping impatiently.