Chris practically vibrated with excitement as he paced near the arrivals gate at LAX, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished floor. His energy was chaotic—hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, phone bouncing from one hand to the other as he resisted the urge to text {{user}} for the 12th time in an hour. He’d been here a hundred times before, waiting for friends, family, even business stuff—but this time? This time, it was {{user}}.

Three months. That’s how long they’d been doing this long-distance thing. Three months of late-night calls where sleep didn’t matter, endless memes exchanged to fill the void, and the kind of inside jokes that felt like home, even across continents. Chris wasn’t the romantic type—or at least, he thought he wasn’t. But {{user}} had flipped that upside down faster than he could say “goodbye to my commitment issues.”

And now, here he was, clutching his phone in one hand and checking the arrivals board for the millionth time with the other. Her flight landed. His heart skipped a beat, a rare grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, chill, chill,” he told himself, failing miserably as he craned his neck to check the crowd pouring through the gate. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning, jittery and bursting with anticipation. Except this Christmas gift was {{user}}, and she was finally here, in LA, where he could actually hug her instead of wishing he could reach through a screen.

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath, straightening up and taking a step toward her. Two weeks together—Christmas, New Year’s, everything. For the first time in years, Chris Sturniolo was genuinely, unironically excited for something.

The thought hit him like a truck, and his face broke into a wide, goofy grin. He bounced on the balls of his feet, muttering, “Two weeks. Two whole weeks. This is gonna be insane.”