“Let’s get this over quickly,” I said. “I have a flight to catch.”
The TSA agent frowned at me. “Your flight to Las Vegas doesn’t board for twenty minutes. What’s the hurry?”
“I’m… I’m afraid of flying,” I lied. “I was planning on getting a few drinks before boarding, to calm my nerves.”
The agent stared at me placidly. “Ma’am, can you tell us why you booked a one-way ticket at the last minute?”
I winced internally. Sothat’swhy I was being screened.
“I’m feeling lucky,” I said simply.
The agent stared back at me without saying anything. Some silences could be comfortable, but this one felt dangerous.
A fake story will never hold up,I thought.I should just tell them the truth.
“Okay, okay,” I said in a rush. “The truth is that the love of my life is about to board a flight to Portland. I’m trying to reach him before he does so I can tell him how I feel.”
“Sure you are,” the agent replied dryly. “Why not book a ticket on the same flight, then?”
“It was full,” I said through gritted teeth. “Here. Let me show you. This video will explain it…”
I pulled up the fifth YouTube video on my phone. The one where Hunter said he was going to stay in Columbus for a few weeks to win me over. Hearing his voice again made my throat tighten with emotion, but the TSA agent seemed unconvinced.
“Hey, that’s Hunter Cade. The car guy!” one of the other agents said. He leaned over the other agent’s shoulder. “I saw that video last night. You’reher?The chick he’s talking about?”
“I’m the chick, yes. And his flight isabout to leave.”
The two of them put their heads together. Then the head agent nodded. “We’ll take you there.”
We hopped in one of those airport cars and zipped through the terminal. The agent honked on the horn and weaved in and out of airport walkers like a slow-motion version of Lizzy’s Mustang ride. When we reached the gate, I saw passengers arranging themselves in a line to board.
It hasn’t left,I thought hopefully.We’re not too late.
But when we stopped and I hopped out, I saw that the line was to the gatenextto the correct one. Gate C-53 was devoid of passengers, and the sign behind the kiosk said Sacramento, California.
“Excuse me, I thought this was the flight to Portland. Has the gate been changed?”
The airline employee jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Already left. It’s pulling away from the gate now.”
I hurried to the window and pressed against the glass. Sure enough, the airplane was rolling away from the gate.
I was too late. Hunter was gone.
46
Erica
I pressed myself against the glass and waved at the plane as it pulled away, hoping that Hunter might see me. He could demand to be let off the plane immediately, and it would taxi back to the gate and let him out.
But that kind of thing only happened in movies, and this was real life, where happy endings weren’t always guaranteed. I watched the plane roll toward the takeoff queue and disappear from sight.
I called Hunter’s phone again. This time the voicemail message felt like a taunt. “Hey, this is Hunter. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Unless I don’t want to talk to you, in which case, please stop calling.”
He didn’t want to talk to me. That’s why he was ignoring my calls. I didn’t want to accept it on the way here, but now there was no denying it.
The TSA agents drove me back to security in silence. Then I got in line at the customer service desk. They couldn’t refund my ticket, but they gave me the equivalent amount in airline miles.
Great. It’s not like I’m flying anywhere any time soon.