up a little higher to catch a glimpse above the crowd. Why was the airport so busy today? How could the guy find her? She quit trying to be taller and abandoned her wishes to become a giraffe before ducking down and weaving through the bodies and arms, sliding past them, crouching and rising while spotting a new route to pursue. Knowing her bodyguard would find it difficult to follow her, Jody continued to wend her way in an agile manner. An entire private school waited there to meet several of their returning students from the foreign exchange program. No wonder it was so crowded.
Threading her way forward, she was all but swimming through the tightly packed bodies. Finally, she reached the edge of the crowd and caught a view of the luggage carousel where Ross’s plane was scheduled to unload. She barely found an opening as she all but elbowed her way in, flinging her head back, tossing her hair across her shoulders, and smacking the guy behind her right in the face. She cringed as she gave him a look and repeated, “Sorry. Sorry… I didn’t mean to get you.” That often happened to her as well. Being short, when she flung her hair around, she was often well below most people’s chins and her hair landed in their faces. He scowled at her and grunted before turning and stomping away.
Well, fine. She apologized. Not like she meant to be such a jerk. She shrugged. Some people liked to be pissed off and were just pissy in general. She preferred to believe that people initially were caring or courteous or polite but got cross and annoyed after being treated otherwise. She was justified for having a quick, hot temper.
Fine. Poor guy was wasting his life by getting angry at small stuff. He was simply ruining his own mood and his own life. Small-minded and petty and not worth her time. She flung her hair back around.
Jody’s hair hung in a thick mass to her middle back. Ridiculously thick, like a freaking horse’s tail, it was that thick. She got it from her mom who had the same hair. Exactly. How the hell could something so awful be so hereditary? Why do some people show no resemblance to their family genes or maybe look like a distant cousin or an uncle once removed? While others, her, for instance, were freaking clones of their parents? Namely, her mother.
Wow, did they ever look alike. She rolled her eyes. The same reaction was observed each and every time people saw her with her mother, either separately or together.
Cue the responses:
“Oh, you look like twins.”
“Oh, my God! You look just alike.”
“Wow. It’s obvious who your mother is.”
“Who’s the mom and who’s the daughter?”
That one particularly made her teeth grind. First, no shit. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see the resemblance. It was that uncanny. So it wasn’t new or like she and her mother and everyone else never discussed it or marvelled at it over the years, never mind the endless comments. But asking who was the daughter? Fricking A! She was obviously. By a good twenty-six years. Yeah. Not like mom had her at age eighteen. No. She was now fifty-one. Good lord, Jody hoped at age twenty-six she didn’t look fifty. Yes, her mother aged well… but come on.
So that was her main peeve with the hair. It was so freaking thick and desirable and the source of comment that, sigh, she kept it long. Despite her annoyance and the unbearable time suck she invested in its care. Some days though, she was determined to all but cut it off.
Not today. Back to Ross. She adjusted her shoulders, now that she made her way to the front of the crowd. Adjusting the sign in her hands, she strained to glance around. Was that him? The dude with the lanky figure, leather jacket, man-bun and soulful glasses? Or maybe he was the older guy, kind of pot-bellied, but still handsome, and well dressed? Maybe barely into his thirties? Or… could it be that guy? Then…
She stopped dead when she saw a guy that was already looking back at her.
A shiver traveled down her spine. Oh. So this was the guy. Damn. All the annoying things she detested happened at once: butterflies in her stomach, blood boiling, skin getting hot and cold and clammy, her breath hitching and her heart thumping. Crap.
She hated her reaction. So typical. Girlish. Unsophisticated. Ooh, she