With my hair tucked into my black trucker's hat and a cherry blossom tote over my shoulder, I exit the plane into JFK airport. The scent of street dogs, trash, and what I think is urine hits my nose. Welcome home, I murmur.

I check my surroundings. To my left is a young couple holding hands, their arms swinging in unison. To the right, there's nothing out of the ordinary - just an older couple who sat in front of me on the plane. The men with cameras are nowhere to be found. I've made it safe, but I've still got some time to kill.

Trudging forward, I head for baggage claim but keep my guard up as I walk through. The shutter of a camera catches my attention and I turn briefly to a couple of kids taking selfies. My heart flutters for a moment before returning to its usual beat. My chest tightens making it hard to take a deep breath. Picking up the pace I trudge forward. Dad offered to fly out to California to get me so I wouldn't have to do this alone, but I insisted that I could handle it. Maybe I bit off more than I could chew.

Up ahead a bright yellow sign glows with black lettering pointing me in the direction I need. I reach behind me into my back pocket to turn on my phone. It's been off since the departure from LAX. I briefly lower my gaze to make sure it's loading up when I slam into a hard body.

A tall lanky boy with soft features, spins, and stares down at me like he's starstruck. His warm brown eyes hold my gaze to his. My heart wobbles with fear and maybe a hint of something else. The pinching in my chest is worse than before, I have to walk away before he snaps a photo and outs me to the world.

In a hazy fog I snap, "learn to walk."

He stares at me. I look down for a brief moment, finding him holding his phone. I'm sure that's the reason we collided. I roll my eyes and scoff. I'm using my attitude to put up a wall. It's hard to trust anyone these days.

His mouth opens and closes within seconds.

"Ugh, jerk," I mutter and walk away.

Strutting past him I can sense his icy cold stare at the back of my head. My shoulders slump. I contemplate turning back to apologize. Another click of a camera shutter makes me second guess my decision and I decide it's not worth it.

I zig zag between people walking in the opposite direction as me. Keeping my head down, I pick up the pace. As I turn the corner I collide with a rack of newspapers. The black wire rack teeters on one leg, but I catch it before it goes over. Staring back at me are my own hazel eyes on the cover of a tabloid. The image of him and I rushing out of the club that hot summer night in L.A. almost a year ago makes my stomach twist with horror. I take two steps back, flip it over, and continue on my way.

***

In baggage claim the number of bags dwindled down to just two black suitcases marked with silver duct tape. My phone chimes, distracting me from my missing luggage. The notification is from my personal Instagram, meant for only family and close friends.

A post I made before leaving L.A pops up with notifications. Only certain people knew about my departure.

TheRealCDawson: Did you really have to go?

My lips begin to quiver as I hover my fingers over the keyboard, while my brain heavily debates whether I should respond. Interacting with Chase Dawson, my co-star and the boy who broke my heart was not on the menu for this summer. I promised myself I'd be strong.

I scroll down attempting to read the rest, but even reading the comments from the people I want to interact with, like my friend and co-star, Rachael Diaz – makes my heart break even more.

An email notification pops up and it's like the universe is testing me. Mom's words cut through me. New auditions 2x the pay! The worst decision I was ever talked into was appointing Mom as my manager. I'm thankful she uprooted her entire life for me, but her life became all about the dollar signs and not enough about the well-being of me – her one and only daughter.

I can't bear to rehash what I've left behind, so I slide the phone into my snug rear pocket again. I wipe the back of my hand across my eyes trying to pull myself together.

The bags that circled around come back again and they are still the only ones there. Finally giving up, I search around for an airport employee who can point me in the right direction.

Pulling the brim of my hat forward I take a step, only to be interrupted by the sound of 5SOS coming from my pocket. Dads freshly trimmed dark bearded face lights up my screen. My lips pull into a smile, a knot forming in my throat.

"Hey Dad," I say, my voice breaking.

"Lennox, baby girl, you sound distressed." His modulated tone calms me.

Dad knows me better than anyone. Even after being away from him for five years just listening to him helps me relax.

"My luggage isn't here. I'm paranoid that people are seeing me. And then there was this jerk that..."

"Calm down, sweetie. Have you spoken to anyone?"

I let out a grunt and spin around searching for someone - anyone who might help. This is not how I wanted my first day home to go. I'm supposed to be here to reevaluate my life and find the girl who left for Hollywood five years ago. Being disgruntled and angry all the time was one of the many things I vowed to leave behind. I know Rome wasn't built in a day, but I swore up and down the moment I landed things would change.

"Dad, hold on, I see an employee."

He says something, only to me it sounds muffled, but I think he tells me to be nice. I try to push down the starlet looking to rear her ugly head, but it's harder than I thought.

I approach a man dressed in a bright orange vest. He's in the middle of speaking with the older couple I spotted earlier. I adjust my hat again trying to keep my face hidden and out of sight. Tabloid writers will be searching for me soon enough in attempts to be the first to report why actress Lennox Taylor fled L.A. Then they will question why I'm not filming the next season of Starlien. If word gets out that I was killed off, especially if it came from my mouth – I would be in breach of contract.

Anxiety rises in my chest and grasps my inside like a boa strangling its prey. Instead of waiting I tap his shoulder impatiently. When he holds up a hand to let me know he needs another minute, I tap again. With as much of a smile as he can muster, he turns to me. Recognition lights in his eyes and I find myself pulling my hat down even further.

"My luggage is missing."

"You'll have to go to the lost and found and they can..."

"Sir, please. It was a really expensive set and has my whole life in there. They're purple with cherry blossoms. I have to find them..."

"Ma'am," he says, as patiently as he can. Before continuing he rubs his hands against his salt and pepper scruff. "You'll have to take it up with them, I'm sorry."

A beast like growl escapes my lips, causing a knot to form in my throat. Dad's voice starts to echo in my ear. I'd almost forgotten I had him on the phone. I step away from the man and turn.

"Lennox," he says, calmly.

"Dad. I have to find them. If I don't, I'm going to miss the train and..." Panic fills my voice.

"Lennox, just do what the gentleman said. If you miss your train you can catch the next–"

"But..."

"No, Lennox, listen to me. You go and report your luggage. I'll call Walker to let him know what's going on. He'll be picking you up at the station. I'm going to try and get in touch with someone too, okay? What did they look like?"

I try to run a hand through my hair only to remember my hat is still on. Dropping my hand down at my side I sigh.

"Okay. Fine. They were purple with cherry blossoms on them."

"Relax, we'll get it worked out. I love you."

"Love you too."

With shaky hands I slip my phone back into my jean pocket. I spin around to do another sweep of the baggage claim area when I collide with someone again. My hands press against an arctic blue tee, and their muscles tighten underneath my touch. I lift my gaze and come face to face with familiar brown eyes. My cheeks burn as I let out a strangled gasp.

"It's you!" I manage.

"It's me," he says, in a low monotonous tone.

It's the guy who ran into me earlier. He studies me, unsure what to say next. I glance down at his soft pink lips as his tongue brushes across to wet them. Distracted by them I miss what he says.

"I'm sorry what?"

"Are these yours?"

He steps back and my hand drops from his chest. My eyes land on my luggage, then back up at him. Thank you is on the tip of my tongue but doesn't quite make it to the surface. I grab the handles and tug them towards me, then turn without saying anything.

"You're welcome," he grumbles.

I throw a glance over my shoulder. "Yeah, whatever."

I twist my head back and straighten out my shoulders. With trembling knees, I try my best to scurry out of there without turning back. The panic building inside my chest is too much. Guilt weighs me down, but all I want to do is get home to my dad's and away from the public eye. If I stay any longer, I might break down and end up on the six o'clock news.