Hey! It's me Deniesse [A/N: pronounced at Denise]. My mom and I are at the Los Angeles Airport. we'll be staying at London for good. My mom said this place have many bad memories. My mom and I never celebrate my birthday since I'm six because my dad died on a car accident on January 12, the day of my sixth birthday.
At the airport on our way to the plane. I'm wearing this: link
This is my lovely mom, by the way: link. . I don't look like my mom because I inherited most of my father's looks. My hair is red because some juniors [school bully] dyed my hair when I was 12. My mom was shocked when she saw it but told me that red hair suits me.
I followed mom towards the plane. We gave our tickets to the flight steward and got inside the plane bringing our hand- carry bags.
Alvira [my mom]: We will not be sitting next to each other, sweetie.
What?! No!
Deniesse: You mean I can't talk to you for hours? Mom, London is far I can't handle that. It's boring if I'm sitting alone myself.
Alvira: Sweetie, I'm only 2 to 3 chairs away from you. Besides, i want you to be independent since you're already eighteen. I'll just go there okay?
She kisses my cheeks and sits on her chair. She gets the 'Vogue' Magazine given by the flight steward to her- since we're in the first class, and reads it. She glances at me and smiles. Gosh, I love my mom. I smiled back at her and sits on my seat near the window.
A few seconds later, I heard my iPhone ringing and reads the text message. It's from my mom. I glanced at her and she smiled at me. I smiled back at reads the text message.
_ _ _ _ _ - _ _ _ _
From: Mom
Are you okay there, sweetie?
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
My mom is sooo concerned about me. I love my mom. I text her back..
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To: Mom
I'm okay here, mom. Love you!
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I look at her expression while she's reading the text message. She smiled. I smiled to myself. I heard my phone ringing again. I read her message..
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From: Mom
I love you too, sweetie. Remember, if the one sitting beside you is a bossy girl or a total jerk guy, ignore. If he or she is nice, be nice also. Okay?
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To: Mom
Got it, Mom! Mwah!
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My mom smiled while reading the message. Then the flight steward told everyone to switch off our electronics. I switched my phone off and puts it inside my bag. My mom does it, too. I look at outside the window. I can feel that someone's already sitting beside me. when I turned my head to look at who it is, i was greeted by a gorgeous smile of a black- haired boy: link . He's good- looking. He's probably american- Indian or something. He sat beside me. Then, i remember what my mom said in the text message earlier. So, I didn't talk to him. I just look outside the window as the plane takes off. There was a complete silence. The one sitting beside the black- haired boy near the aisle's a woman about the same age of my mom. I glanced one more time to my mom and she's talking to a flight steward. The boy beside me seems nice. My thoughts were interrupted by an unusual accent. It's not an american accent. I turned my head from the window and realizes that the one talking to me is the black- haired boy beside me. He was smiling at me and I smiled back. I knew it! He's nice.
Guy: Hi. I'm Zayn.
He offers a hand shake.
Deniesse: I'm Deniesse. (does handshake) As in D-E-N-I-E-S-S-E.
Zayn: Wow. Unique name.
Deniesse: So you're British?
Zayn: British- Pakistani. (smiles)
Deniesse: Oh.
Zayn: Do you live in Los Angeles?
Deniesse: We will be staying in London for good.
Zayn: Can I ask you something?
Deniesse: Sure. What is it?
Zayn: Errrmm... Uhmmm
Oh. He seems shy.
Deniesse: Come on. Tell me.
Zayn: Can I have your number?
Deniesse: (chuckles) Sure.
I get a pen and paper inside my bag and wrote down my number.
Deniesse: Here. (i gave him the pen and paper)
He looks at the paper and smiled.
Deniesse: That's my UK cellphone number. My old number probably won't work in London.
He look sat me and smiled.
Zayn: Thank you.
He puts the paper inside his pocket and gives me a paper with numbers. I gave him a confused look.
Zayn: My number. Call or text me if you need me or if you want a tour around London.
Deniesse: Thanks, Zayn.
I look at my mom. She's watching me all the time. It seems like she doesn't want me to talk to Zayn.
At the airport on our way to the plane. I'm wearing this: link
This is my lovely mom, by the way: link. . I don't look like my mom because I inherited most of my father's looks. My hair is red because some juniors [school bully] dyed my hair when I was 12. My mom was shocked when she saw it but told me that red hair suits me.
I followed mom towards the plane. We gave our tickets to the flight steward and got inside the plane bringing our hand- carry bags.
Alvira [my mom]: We will not be sitting next to each other, sweetie.
What?! No!
Deniesse: You mean I can't talk to you for hours? Mom, London is far I can't handle that. It's boring if I'm sitting alone myself.
Alvira: Sweetie, I'm only 2 to 3 chairs away from you. Besides, i want you to be independent since you're already eighteen. I'll just go there okay?
She kisses my cheeks and sits on her chair. She gets the 'Vogue' Magazine given by the flight steward to her- since we're in the first class, and reads it. She glances at me and smiles. Gosh, I love my mom. I smiled back at her and sits on my seat near the window.
A few seconds later, I heard my iPhone ringing and reads the text message. It's from my mom. I glanced at her and she smiled at me. I smiled back at reads the text message.
_ _ _ _ _ - _ _ _ _
From: Mom
Are you okay there, sweetie?
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
My mom is sooo concerned about me. I love my mom. I text her back..
-----------------------------------------------------
To: Mom
I'm okay here, mom. Love you!
-------------------------------------------------------
I look at her expression while she's reading the text message. She smiled. I smiled to myself. I heard my phone ringing again. I read her message..
-------------------------------------------------------
From: Mom
I love you too, sweetie. Remember, if the one sitting beside you is a bossy girl or a total jerk guy, ignore. If he or she is nice, be nice also. Okay?
-----------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------
To: Mom
Got it, Mom! Mwah!
----------------------------------------------------
My mom smiled while reading the message. Then the flight steward told everyone to switch off our electronics. I switched my phone off and puts it inside my bag. My mom does it, too. I look at outside the window. I can feel that someone's already sitting beside me. when I turned my head to look at who it is, i was greeted by a gorgeous smile of a black- haired boy: link . He's good- looking. He's probably american- Indian or something. He sat beside me. Then, i remember what my mom said in the text message earlier. So, I didn't talk to him. I just look outside the window as the plane takes off. There was a complete silence. The one sitting beside the black- haired boy near the aisle's a woman about the same age of my mom. I glanced one more time to my mom and she's talking to a flight steward. The boy beside me seems nice. My thoughts were interrupted by an unusual accent. It's not an american accent. I turned my head from the window and realizes that the one talking to me is the black- haired boy beside me. He was smiling at me and I smiled back. I knew it! He's nice.
Guy: Hi. I'm Zayn.
He offers a hand shake.
Deniesse: I'm Deniesse. (does handshake) As in D-E-N-I-E-S-S-E.
Zayn: Wow. Unique name.
Deniesse: So you're British?
Zayn: British- Pakistani. (smiles)
Deniesse: Oh.
Zayn: Do you live in Los Angeles?
Deniesse: We will be staying in London for good.
Zayn: Can I ask you something?
Deniesse: Sure. What is it?
Zayn: Errrmm... Uhmmm
Oh. He seems shy.
Deniesse: Come on. Tell me.
Zayn: Can I have your number?
Deniesse: (chuckles) Sure.
I get a pen and paper inside my bag and wrote down my number.
Deniesse: Here. (i gave him the pen and paper)
He looks at the paper and smiled.
Deniesse: That's my UK cellphone number. My old number probably won't work in London.
He look sat me and smiled.
Zayn: Thank you.
He puts the paper inside his pocket and gives me a paper with numbers. I gave him a confused look.
Zayn: My number. Call or text me if you need me or if you want a tour around London.
Deniesse: Thanks, Zayn.
I look at my mom. She's watching me all the time. It seems like she doesn't want me to talk to Zayn.