The only people hanging around were other passengers on my flight and two men dressed in black suits holding signs with names that weren’t Santos on them. Two automatic glass doors went wide as I approached them, dumping me directly outside the building and at a curb.Īt least there as no one waiting there that looked like a twenty-something man who had just spent the last year in Iraq. I knew he was six foot two and that he’d have a hint of a Louisiana accent in his voice. It wasn’t until that exact moment that I remembered Aaron had never sent me a picture of himself even though he had mentioned it. Wheeling my bag behind me in one hand and clutching my weekend bag over my opposite shoulder, my heart rate started going crazy, so much I let out a deep exhale to try and calm it, but failed. Unless he wasn’t outside waiting for me… If that was the case, I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.Ī few minutes later, in baggage claim, my suitcase finally came around the conveyer and I picked it up, straining under the weight of 48.8 pounds of bathing suits and more clothes than I’d realistically need. Our friendship had been built on our personalities. As long as we got along, that was all that mattered. I didn’t even believe that myself, but I needed to.įriends didn’t care what other friends looked like, unless this was Mean Girls, and it wasn’t.
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