"Yup, are you?" I asked, sliding over to get out.
"Ready for anything, c'mon," he said. I opened the door, and quickly got out. Nick came out, his hands filled with suitcases.
"Could you pack any lighter?" he joked.
"Oh, give it to me, you're so weak," I said, swatting at the suitcase. He pulled it away.
"No, I can handle it," he defended himself.
"Okay, if you insist," I said, turning around.
"No fooling, this is very real," Andre warned, pulling us aside.
"Okay, you're gonna take care of the bags, right?" Nick asked.
"Sure, Nick, but first, let's worry about getting on the plane without much of a hassle," Andre said, starting to walk away. We looked at each other, and ran to catch up.
"Becky, this is my other security guard, Rich," Nick said, introducing me to the other guard I didn't know from earlier.
"Hi, nice to meet you," I said, holding out my hand. He pushed it aside.
"Nick, you know the routine, introductions later," Rich said.
"Sorry, forgot!" Nick exclaimed cheerfully. I looked at him, startled from the recent brush-off.
"They can't watch out for us, AND say hi to everyone at the same," he whispered lightly. He grinned, and we walked into the terminal.
"Okay, Rich, you bring the bags over there, and I can take care of the rest," Andre instructed.
"Okay, can you handle two?" Rich asked, taking the bags from Nick's grasp.
"Yeah, if I can handle Nick and Brian, these two will be a piece of cake," Andre smiled.
"Okay, now, let's find your flight, it's American Airlines Flight 412," Andre said, looking at the flight board.
"Found it," I exclaimed, pointing at the lit flight.
"Already?!" Nick said,
"It usually takes me forever to find a specific flight."
"Well..." I grinned, blushing.
"Okay, right, left, right," Andre said, looking at the pamphlet with the map of the terminal.
"Okay, got it, ready?" Nick asked.
"Totally, c'mon!" I exclaimed, running backwards.
"Beck! NO!" Nick yelped, as I bumped into someone.
"Sorry, she's a little rowdy today," Nick excused me, running off holding his shirt over his cheek.
"Sorry," I mumbled. I felt like I was being reprimanded, by my boyfriend.
"It's okay, I'm not trying to be insulting to you, I just don't want to cause any attention to us. It will make a crowd," Nick said, looking at me.
"No, I'm really sorry. If I hadn't acted like a 3-year old, this wouldn't have happened," I said. I felt like crying, I'd embarrassed him in front of all these people.
"That's okay, don't feel bad, let's just catch up to Andre," Nick said, looking ahead.
"Nick, if you don't mind, take down the shirt, it causes more attention," I grinned.
"I knew that," he laughed. "Okay, you two, here's the plane, give the lady the tickets, and run to your seats," Andre guided.
"Okay, thanks Andre," I smiled, grabbing my ticket. Andre walked away, and Nick looked at me.
"Hey, hey, not so fast," Nick held my arm.
"What don't you want to get there without getting caught?" I asked.
"I thought you wanted to show me off? If not me, then I want to show you off. And what not a better place than right here in JFK airport?" Nick whispered.
"If you're sure, I trust you. But, please, don't get hurt," I warned.
"Beck, I'd take a bullet for you," he replied.
"No, I'll be fine, no one recognizes me. It's you I'm worried about," I poked at him.
"ME? If I have to I can run to a bathroom," he yelped, running to a little coffee bar.
"And that would help by......," I supplied.
"...By getting rid of the mobbing fans, if they even recognize me with this great disguise," he said, pulling out a Tampa Bay Buccaneers cap.
"No, no, no!" I screamed, "hold on, be right back." Before he could get a word out, I ran into a hat shop and grabbed the closest Yankees hat. I quickly paid, and ran back to where Nick was still standing.
"When in France, do as the French," I mumbled, grabbing his old hat, and putting it back into his hand. I replaced it with the new hat.
"I like it!" I said happily. We walked into the coffee bar, and sat down.
"What would you like?" he asked.
"Just a hot cocoa for me," I replied.
"No coffee?" he asked, ordering the hot cocoa and mocha coffee.
"Yeah, I don't drink coffee," I said.
"Oh, I have no problem with that," he whispered, kissing me.
"Eh hem," the waiter coughed, interrupting us. We both blushed, and started drinking our hot drinks.
