Chapter 1

The airport is a heaving chaos of sweaty bodies and clumpy suitcases bashing against my ankles as I try desperately to claw my way through the crowd. My own suitcase keeps getting stuck between everyone's legs which is driving me crazy. My mind is a blur of checking clocks and watches whilst trying my best to hurry through the airport with inhuman speed.

When I reach a bump.

I stop short, almost thrown back but a pair of arms steadies me instead.

"Careful," a masculine voice whispers.

"Thanks," I answer hurriedly, not bothering to turn around. I'm already late. I'm going to miss my flight and then –

Deep breaths Ana, I tell myself repeatedly, using my calming techniques.

And then I realise the cause of the bump. It is a mass of people, all clambering around the flight information display system and craning their necks. I can hear murmurs and groans all around me but due to my measly height of 5'2, I can't see anything at all. Groaning in frustration, I tiptoe as high as I can to no avail. And then a chuckle behind me breaks through my concentration and I whirl around, annoyed.

"Can't see?" He asks.

It's the same voice. The man who had steadied me and his smirk is almost as appealing as his face. He is gorgeous.

"Obviously not," I say with my eyebrows raised. "Can you…tell me what it says Mr Tall?"

He smirks again and looks up effortlessly. I watch him as he looks, as his smirk turns to a furrow and then an outright glare.

"What is it?" I ask, worried.

He glances back down at me for a brief moment.

"Flights to Seattle are cancelled," he says, not really paying attention. Without any further explanation, he strides forward dragging his suitcase behind him.

I follow after him hurriedly, trying not to get lost in the crowd.

"Hey!" I shout. "What do you mean the flights are cancelled?"

He ignores me but I eventually manage to track him down to the front desk where he's talking to who appears to be the manager.

"Excuse me," he says anxiously. "When is the next available flight to Seattle?"

"I'm sorry Sir," the woman says, not really looking sorry at all. "We do not know when the next available flight to Seattle will be scheduled. There's a storm and it is unsafe to fly. There are no flights to Washington for the foreseeable future."

She speaks very simply to him, as if he's stupid. I decide to intervene.

"It's the 23rd December," I say desperately to her. "There must be something to Washington. I need to be home before Christmas."

She just shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm sorry ma'am," she says again in that sickly patronising voice. "I can recommend you a hotel?"

"What is the nearest airport that is flying to Washington?" The man interrupts.

"I don't know," she says.

"Thank you very much," I snap. "For being utterly unhelpful."

I turn around in frustration, heading for god knows where. My eyes spot a small seat and I sit down, breathing deeply. The panic starts to set it again and this time, I can't control it. How am I supposed to get home in time for Christmas if there are no flights? And there's a supposed storm brewing…I've never liked storms or lightening. The thought of being stuck in New York alone for Christmas is one of the most depressing ones I've ever had. I picture Kate, thousands of miles away in Australia soaking it up in the sun right now for a blazing Aussie Christmas. And Jose, visiting family in California. And then my mom and Ray, how disappointed they'll be when I don't come home.

His voice breaks me out of my sad reverie by hovering over me.

"You were going home to Seattle too?" He asks.

I nod. "Did you manage to find anything else out?" I ask feebly, a last attempt to find something out. Some alternative way to get home, perhaps a flying carpet.

"No," he says dismally, taking a seat next to me.

We both sit in relative silence, listening to the bustle of the airport and people watching. I watch as a woman with a young child turns around from the desk, visibly taken aback that the flights are cancelled. She pulls out her phone desperately, trying to stop the child from crying. It's chaotic.

"What's your name?" The stranger asks then.

I turn to face him, examining his face up close. He really is handsome. A strong jawline, blue-grey eyes and a few days old stubble. From his expensive looking jumper and coat, I can tell he's wealthy. From the slight dark circles underneath his eyes, I can also tell he's a hard worker. I idly wonder when the last time he got some proper sleep was.

"Anastasia," I say. "Yours?"

"Nice name," he smirks. "I'm Christian, it's nice to meet you Anastasia," he holds out his hand for me to shake and I do so.

It's firm and warm. Overall, a very nice hand.

"So, are you from Seattle?" I ask curiously. "Were you going home for Christmas too?"

"Yeah," he nods, withdrawing his hand with a sigh. "I haven't spent Christmas with my family in a few years so I thought I would this year. Turns out that probably isn't going to happen."

"I'm sorry," I say, knowing how he feels. "Why haven't you spent Christmas with them for a while?"

"Work," he says sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Last year I was in London for the holidays."

"You travel a lot," I acknowledge. It's not a question, just a fact. I don't know him at all but i've already gauged that much.

"I suppose I do."

We're quiet again then, neither of us knowing what to say or do. I'm completely lost as to what the next step is. If there's no way to fly out today, then I suppose the most logical thing to do would be to get a hotel somewhere and then contact my parents to tell them what's going on.

"What were you here in New York for?" Christian asks abruptly.

"Work," I say automatically. "I was on a week-long business trip."

He nods before standing up.

"I'm going to see if I can book myself into a hotel for the night," he announces. "I presume you're going to be doing the same?"

"Yes," I clarify, standing too. "I suppose that's all I can do for now."

"You can come with me if you want," he says casually. "Weathers supposed to get real bad here this afternoon. Wouldn't want you to get caught out in it and the hotels are all probably likely fully booked."

I sigh. He's right. I checked out of mine this morning and it was already full for the upcoming week. Holidays are the busiest time of the year.

"Best go talk to the manager about those hotels," he says grimly.

I let him lead the way.

A/N love doing these fluffy short little Christmas stories! Quick Daily updates this holidays! Hope you enjoyed, please leave a comments, see you tomorrow xxx