The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter seventeen

{{{{A/N

I listened to the song on This Love by Taylor Swift on repeat whilst I wrote this chapter, so feel free to do that as well if you like.

Also, my latest book, Dirty Little Secrets, is out, so please check that out if you have the time. For some reason the cover is glitching and won't allow me to upload it to the actual book, but here's the picture to the side for y'all to see :)

Thank you, guys.

I hope you all love this chapter as much as I loved writing it.

PS Dedicated to KrazyKeera19 for her comments everywhere :) You never fail to make me smile with your sass <3}}}}

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A lot of things could have changed with that realization.

I could have easily called London and told them that I no longer had an interest in attending their school. That I’d found something in America worth staying for, and no scholarship would be able to pay for the heartbreak I’d endure in leaving.

But I didn’t. Because London was a major decision, and I had no idea what the future would hold. I had three weeks to make my choice, and I wasn’t quite ready to make it just yet.

Which is why nothing changed in the two days following that night. I got up at six and did yoga with my mother, traded sections of the paper with my father, and visited some of my old teenage jaunts I’d frequented as a kid. But by the time we had to board the plane and make our way back to Hamilton, I was ready to be back. My parents were so much better than the Marie and Greg I’d known when I’d left at eighteen, but my life was back in Florida, with Jamie and Ava and Rose and Callie and Tessa…

And the beautiful boy that was currently turning an eerie shade as the plane took off up the runway and slowly rose into the sky.

           

“Do you need a respiratory bag?” I asked, running a hand through his hair. “I could get the hostess…”

He breathed out and shook his head, before squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I think I’m good, thanks.”

But just then the plane rattled with turbulence, and Chance let out a very effeminate squeak. I chewed on the inside of my cheek in an attempt to calm my laughter. “It’s okay, Chance. It’s totally normal.”

He nodded and doubled over, putting his head between his legs. I rubbed his shoulder comfortingly as the hostess walked past, a silver vendor’s cart on wheels in her arms. She looked down, and her pink lips turned up in a smile. “Not a frequent flyer, I take it?”

I shook my head. “This is only his second flight.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” she told him. “It’ll pass. You’ll be just fine.”

He looked up and smiled tightly, but about twenty-five minutes into the trip he calmed down, though he was still green enough to merit me wondering whether or not he’d throw up all over my slacks. I hoped not.