Wrong Number ? Dylan O'Brien & Tyler Posey

For the most part the airport was very busy, but for some weird reason I could sense what car Dylan was in.

A black Range Rover pulled up by the curb and stopped. I felt like the guy inside was looking at me, although I could not see, since the windows were tinted sharp black.

The rest mine as well been a slow motion video because I remember that the door slowly opened and there he stood. He didn't move. Just stood there, and looked at me.

You know that feeling when your heart just suddenly feels like it beats so hard it falls out of your chest. Okay, so this would be a perfect example. I was too starstruck to even move. My mouth was slightly open and can't believe the person I've been communicating with the past few days was standing right in front of me. My role model and celebrity crush... right in front of me.

He slowly approaches me, looking like he has the same emotions I have.

Each step he takes, he keeps getting closer and my heart keeps beating faster and faster.

He was finally about two inches away from me and we just stood there. No talking, just complete silence. We've blocked out everyone else around us and all I could hear was the silence between us two.

He continued to stare into my brown eyes, when he suddenly embraced me in a super tight hug.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I choke out, since he was gripping me tightly.

"Hi," he says.

"You already said that," I say jokingly, giving him a goofy smile.

"Yeah... I-I-I know," he says.

"I can't believe I'm actually seeing you," I say, slowly, taking in this moment as slowly as possible.

"I can't believe I'm actually seeing you, too, Cara," he says.

"Speaking of my name... how do you know it?" I ask curiously. "I don't recall ever talking to you about it."

"No... um... I'm pretty... sure you did," he stutters, searching for the right words.

"Dylan, don't lie to me on our first meet up," I smirk.

"I'm not," he says, playing with his thumbs and looking down at his feet.

"Dylan..." I say, waiting for a response.

"Okay, fine get in the car. Tyler and I have a lot of explaining to do," he says.

"Uh, yeah. Okay," I say, grabbing my bags.

"Here let me help you," he says, taking one bag from me.

"Thank you... Mr. O'Brien," I say.

"Now you're calling me that?" He asks, laughing.

"Yeah.. I like it. And a lot of your fans call you Dyl Pickle," I tell him.

"Yeah. I would love to be called Wilmer Flores," he says jokingly.

I decide to ignore the fact on how he knew my name and push it aside for later.

"Wow. So you really are a big Mets fan," I say.

"I'm beyond a big Mets fan. The amount of love I have for the Mets is amazing," he says. "What baseball team do you like?"