Coastal Chaos

Airports make people weird.

I’m convinced of it.

Something about overpriced coffee and the constant threat of missing your flight turns fully grown adults into either aggressive line-cutters or emotional support seekers. There’s no in-between. You’re either arguing with a gate agent over a carry-on that is very obviously too big, or you’re calling someone you haven’t spoken to in three years just because you felt like you should.

Me?

I’m sitting at Gate 22 with a lukewarm iced coffee, questioning every life decision that led me here.

Which, unfortunately, can be traced back to exactly one person.

Allison.

I glance down at my phone, the random number still sitting at the top of my call log. My thumb hovers over it for a second, like I might call her back and tell her I’ve come to my senses. I don’t. Instead, I lean back into the stiff airport chair, crossing one leg over the other, and let out a slow breath.

She didn’t even try to ease into it. No warm-up. No pretending to care about my day.

Just—

“I need you to say yes before I finish explaining.”

I remember blinking at my phone, pulling it away from my ear for a second like that might somehow change what I just heard. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Say yes.”

There was movement on her end—loud, chaotic—but more distant than usual, like she’d stepped away from whatever was going on. Music thumped faintly in the background, voices blending together into noise.

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get blind yeses.”

“You owe me one.”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t owe you anything. Allison, you owe me for that time I covered for you when you—”

“Someone left the house.”

The way she cut me off made me pause. Not because of what she said, but because of how she said it. There was something sharp underneath it. Urgent.

I shifted, sitting up a little straighter, my curiosity getting the better of me despite myself. “Okay… and?”

“Like fully left,” she rushed on. “Packed their stuff, dramatic exit, doors slamming, producers freaking out—everything.”

I pressed my lips together, unimpressed, my fingers tapping lightly against my coffee cup, condensation dampening my skin. “Sounds stable. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I told them I had someone perfect to replace her.”

I blinked once. Twice. Then I actually laughed, leaning back. “Yeah... not gonna happen Ally.”

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

“…Allison.”

“Sloane.”

There it was.

I dragged a hand down my face, already shaking my head. “No. No, absolutely not. Don’t even start. I’m not doing it.”

“Just listen—”

“No,” I cut in, sharper this time, pushing to my feet and starting to pace my living room. “I am not going on your chaotic little reality house show where everyone drinks too much, hooks up, and cries about it in shared bathrooms.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh really?” I scoffed. “Because you called me last week crying over oat milk.”

“That was targeted.”

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

“I’m realistic,” I corrected.

There was a pause, and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Focus,” she said, sharper now. “This is important.”

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms. “You always say that right before things go completely off the rails.”

“That is not true.”

“That is very true,” I shot back. “You said that before the beach trip where we almost got arrested.”

“We did not almost get arrested.”

“We had to run.”

“That was… circumstantial.”

I let out a quiet laugh despite myself, pushing off the wall and pacing again. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re avoiding the conversation.”

“Because I don’t want to have it,” I said simply.

“You hate your job.”

The shift was instant.

I stilled, my grip tightening slightly around the phone.

“That’s not the point,” I said, quieter now.

“It is the point,” she pushed. “You’ve been complaining about it for months.”

“I haven’t been complaining.”

“You literally called me last week and said, ‘If I have to sit through one more meeting about nothing, I might actually lose my mind.’”

I winced. “That was taken out of context.”

“There was no context.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “It’s just a job.”

“It’s a job you don’t even like.”

I didn’t answer that.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

“Lots of people don’t like their jobs,” I muttered.

“Yeah, but not everyone has the option to do something different,” she said. “You do.”

My jaw tightened.

“There it is,” she added, softer now. “That silence? That’s you knowing I’m right.”

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You’re really going all in on this, huh?”

“Yes.”

I sank back down onto the couch, staring at the floor. “You just broke up with Daniel,” she added.

“We’re not doing this.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing to do. It’s done.”

“You weren’t happy.”

“I was… fine.”

“Sloane.”

I rolled my eyes. “What?”

“Fine isn’t the goal.”

I didn’t respond.

Because, again, she wasn’t wrong.

“He was nice,” I said after a moment.

“But?”

I huffed out a breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “That’s kind of the problem.”

She didn’t interrupt this time.

“He was just… easy. Too easy,” I admitted. “No arguments, no tension, no anything. I could’ve told him the sky was green and he would’ve just nodded and apologized for not noticing.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds frustrating.”

“It was,” I said. “I don’t want someone who just agrees with everything I say. I want someone who actually pushes back. Someone who—” I stopped, exhaling. “I don’t know. Someone who has a backbone.”

“Someone who can handle you.”

I smirked slightly. “Exactly.”

There was a pause.

A different one this time.

“Then why are you settling for ‘fine’?” she asked quietly.

That one landed.

“I’m not settling,” I said, though it came out weaker than I meant.

“Then prove it.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Come here,” she said. “Just for a little while. Shake things up. Do something that isn’t safe or predictable or ‘fine.’”

And now here I am.

Gate 22.

Boarding in twenty minutes.

And somehow… I said yes.

I take a sip of my coffee and immediately regret it. Warm. Watery. Sad.

Kind of like my last relationship.

Daniel.

Even thinking his name feels underwhelming.

He wasn’t a bad guy. That’s the thing. If he had been, it would’ve been easier. But he was polite. Predictable. Safe.

On paper, he was perfect.

In reality?

He bored me.

There was no fire. No tension. No anything.

And I don’t want that anymore.

I glance out the window at the plane waiting on the runway, my reflection faint in the glass.

My job?

Not enough.

My relationship?

Definitely not enough.

My life?

Safe. Stable. Predictable.

And somehow… still not enough.

They call boarding for my group, and I stand, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. My heart thuds lightly in my chest.

“Alright,” I murmur. “Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

This is either going to be the best decision I’ve ever made…

or an absolute disaster.

Probably the second one.

But at least it won’t be boring.

And right now?

That’s exactly what I need.

I step forward, hand over my boarding pass, and don’t look back.