I don't know if the flight took forever, or if it was my nerves that made time drag by. I exit the plane, grab my bags, and head for the lobby. The airport is busier here, making me miss my little reprieve I just left behind in first class.
I have the address, but having to call a cab has me nervous; I hope my French is good enough to get by. Heading towards the door, a sudden weight it is lifted from my shoulders when I catch a familiar figure leaning against the glass.
I rush over, like a a child seeing her best friend after the summer,
"When did you get here punk, and how did you make it before me?"
Easton pulls down his Aviators, and punches me in the shoulder.
"I got here yesterday by jet to get everything situated for you. I can't do commercial, my patience is not set up for tha
