Danny looked at the girl like we would look at a pineapple, with dull excitement. She was just an ordinary girl but something about her enchanted him. A smile cracked on his face as he found his thoughts wrapped about the girl who we didn’t even know. Her luscious, wavy red hair glistened under the bright lights of the terminal. The red was still nothing special, it was rusty red that Lindsay Lohan had died her hair so many times after going blonde or brunette or blonde again. Her eyes were a pale gray that looked like a rain puddle on a spring day and her skin was as pale as Danny’s ass.
“We are now boarding flight 89, London, England to New York City, New York. Passengers in 1st class please,” an attractive flight attendant called over the P.A. system. Dougie lazily grabbed his bag, nearly dumping its contents – which was a cd player, cd’s a game boy, chips and condoms- on the ground, keeping his eyes on the attendant whose name tag read Bess.
“Come on, Dan,” Harry looked over at his shoulder at a rudely staring Danny. “You know it’s not polite to stare,” he said a bit loudly, causing a few people to look up, and one of those few people was the red head. She blushed slightly, and so did Danny, both smiled but then he got up and walked away.
“Dick,” Danny shook with head with a laugh once he got into whispering distance of Harry.
“Danny’s got a crush,” Tom sang, jokingly.
“Shuddup, mate,” he took one last look at the girl, but she was already gone.
“Quite looking, mate,” Harry pushed Danny further on, as he was blocking the hallway terminal to the plane. “She’s gone.” And right as he said it, she appeared just two people behind Tom. He and Danny smiled ironically and Tom looked back. The girl was looking at him, the three of them, in fact, she looked with interest. What would three famous Brit boys want with uncoordinated, plain infamous Dionne Gibbons?
Till they took their back row first class seats, they remained silent, for Danny was giving them the look of d-bagging them if they embarrassed him any more. He was all for a little humiliation and fun but his mind was already acting like a stalker’s and he just wanted to sit down as quickly as he could. He chose an aisle seat next to Dougie, (although he wanted a window seat), so he didn’t have to be near Harry and Tom who would give him a rough time, even though he gave them a dirty look. Tom took the window and Harry took the aisle, at this, Danny frowned because Harry was by far the worst of the two when it came to fussing about fit birds. To their bewilderment, the red head took a seat just two seats in front of Danny, giving Harry the perfect view to fuel up his comments to Danny and the perfect view of her, of course.
“Excuse me,” Bess the flight attendant looked over at Danny and Dougie, “did you drop this?” she held a game boy with Mario cart in it and a slop-ily written dougie on it.
Dougie looked with bold, scared eyes, nodding his head shyly, “thanks,” he managed to mumble, grabbing a hold of it.
“You’re lucky, the red head up there saw you drop it and brought it with her when she boarded,” Bess smiled, fixed her flight attendant cap and returned to the assisting those on the flight. Her golden blonde hair sprayed the slight sent of roses when she turned away.
Tom leaned forward in his chair to check a glance at Dougie, who remained frozen his arm reaching up from grabbing his game boy. Danny looked over at him and helped him lower his arm. “Not a pleasant look on you, mate.”
Dougie alarmingly grabbed his hand back from Danny’s touch. “Whatever, man,” he shrugged it off.
For most of the flight, the boys slept. Tom with his month hanging open, tongue dropping out, and a slow drizzle of drool; he very much resembled a dog. Harry slightly reclined back with his hands properly in his lap and legs spread a bit like a frog. Across the aisle, Danny brought his knees up to his chin and leaned on his side in a small ball-like fetal position. Then there was Dougie, with one leg sprawled out, the other under himself, one arm on the arm rest and the other supporting his head as he lie against the window of the plane with 2 pillows beneath him. When they weren’t sleeping, they were eating. Tom scarfed down his bacon burger, licking the plate and, again, looking like a dog that needs a bib, as he dropped ketchup onto his black tee. Harry used a fork and knife for his burger, and sipped water out of a fancy wine glass. Since the flight was to America, they weren’t allowed booze with the law of drinking was 21 in the U.S.. Danny ate his like a nervous school boy. Eating then glancing around and occasionally dropping bacon bits into his lap. Dougie ate lazily, taking a bite here and saving some on his face for later. And if they weren’t sleeping or eating, they were doing their own idiotic selves. Tom glued to the t.v that was on the back on the seat in front of him. To his disappointment, there were no porn channels, the only the movie worth watching was Mean Girls which he had watched on his last flight. Harry read a book and drew doodles. Danny made several trips to the loo, in chances of looking at the red head girl as well as writing lyrics about her. Danny felt ashamed at his loony-ness of a girl he barely knew or didn’t even know at all. Dougie stared out the window in boredom and played away on his game boy. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much talking between him. Only the few questions of “Danny, what’s wrong with your bladder?!” or “are you gonna eat that piece of bacon?”
After a very long six hour flight, they landed at the airport in central New York City. They tiredly piled out of the plane to the baggage claim area. “So glad that flight is over,” Danny mumbled as they approached their claim gate. The girl may have been fit but he was glad the last of the jokes about him were about over. Or so he thought.
At baggage claim, Tom and Harry kicked up the jokes a notch. “They call Lohan the firecrotch, I bet she’s one, too,” Harry sheepishly laughed, thinking about his quick hook-up with Lindsay while filming a movie the previous spring.
“Yew are soy immachair,” Dougie gayishly joked.
“You’re bag is coming up, Harry,” Danny said bitterly, pointing at the only orange suit case. He then was recalled to the day that Harry excitedly bought it. It came it a complete set, with orange carry-on bag, and a orange bathroom case complete with orange comb, orange brush, orange toothbrush and an orange razor. “I fucking love this,” he claimed at first site. Danny could swear if they weren’t in public, he would have had an orgasm over it.
Someone stepped forward to reach for it, when another hand went for it. Both hand owners looked up at one another. One was Dionne Gibbons, the red-headed babe Danny admired; the other was Harry Judd, one who had been over-heard by Dionne telling jokes. As fast as a guy gets an erection, her face was a beet red and her eyes shifted away as both lifted the bag off the trolley. “I believe this is mine,” Harry shyly said, setting it down and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Beg your pardon, mate,” she tossed mate in rudefily, she had a right. She over heard the guy making jokes at a guy for liking her and cracked some on her, “I know this is mine.”
Harry bent down and looked at the tag. Sure enough, it didn’t read his name, but Dionne’s. “Sorry.”
“For what?” she questioned.
“For trying to take your bag?” he responded unsure.
“You sure it’s not about those jokes?” she quizzed him with some crazy adrenaline running into her body.
His back stiffened, smile faded, and cheeks burnt crimson. “You heard those?” he asked through shy, gritted teeth.
The other boys stepped forward, eager to hear what was going on. “What can I say, I’m a firecrotch bitch,” she used words he had used to refer to her as. A silent ‘ohh burn’ went through Danny’s, Tom’s, and Dougie’s mind. Tom raised a quizzical eyebrow as to how she had heard Harry, because even he hadn’t been able to hear everything he said and he sat right next to him.
“I.. Uh, well, you see,” he was dumb-founded, searching for an excuse or anything to say.
“No need to make excuses,” a confident smile cracked her pale face. “I know you’re giving him,” she turned slightly to an embarrassed Danny, “a hard time because, believe it or not, firecrotches can actually be beautiful and hot and not ugly while the typical stero-type and people can actually be attracted to them. I’m going to go now before I do something.” She ended her rampage short with a slight giggle. She grabbed her orange case, turned to leave but not before pausing before Danny. “Whatever relationship you have to that guy, is pretty lame. He’s a dick, but hey, here’s my number,” she handed him a ripped piece of purple paper and she left.
“She’s insane,” Tom let out a laugh of relief.
“And you still got the number,” Dougie shook his head in disbelief.
Danny unfolded the paper to see that there actually was a number written on as well as her name, Dionne. Danny and Dionne. Dionne and Danny. He thought it a second then looked at her number. 353-887-5378, it seemed odd and fake so instead of being happy about it, he crumpled it and shoved it in his back pocket. “Sorry, mate,” Harry apologized.
“He still got the number!” Dougie idiotically retorted again.
“Dude, we’re we being silly and I can’t believe you got that girl.”