I haven't been on a plane in a while.

The last time I was on a plane was last spring when Carmen convinced me into an impromptu trip to San Juan. She wanted to show me the island. She's always been the surprising type, making you feel special by being special, and I love her for it.

I remember the day like yesterday: her long black hair flowing in the wind. She's in her favourite orange bathing suit with yellow polka-dots, and it's a two-piece which was so beautiful on her. She's bubbling with excitement at her proposal. I laugh at her enthusiasm, and she hugs me, her body warm under my touch.

"You will love it. My grandfather has a ranch with horses we can ride, and I can also teach you how to sail...it'll be fun." She says excitedly.

I pull away slightly, looking into her brown eyes and peck her pink heart-shaped lips. "Can't wait," I say.

She squeals, glancing at the ocean, "let's swim." She says, dragging me by the arm into the Santa Monica ocean.

Now, here I am at the Los Angeles International Airport, waiting for our flight. Carmen is munching on salted cashews as she plays solitaire on her phone, Damian has gone off to the bathroom, Luena is watching the planes at the waiting room window and Can and Nori, who was invited along, are getting snacks for our flight.

This trip is about Damian and Luena.

I feel bad for Luena, though, having to hold in her feelings for so long because it's a feeling I can relate to. I remember when I felt that way about Carmen.

I just moved to Los Angeles, away from everything I knew, so it was quite an adjustment. I knew English well since I grew up in a tourist town and wasn't unfamiliar with foreigners, but the thing that had me struggling was making friends and learning in a new environment.

Los Angeles is filled with rich and powerful people, as well as many actors, and I don't mean actors on television; I mean actors in real life.

If you have money and connections, others want access to your money and connections.

When people discover you're rich, a twinkle develops in their eyes, like stars zipping through the night. When you see a shooting star, you don't only admire it, but you make a wish.

My Dtaa (maternal grandfather), Kittisak Wongsuwan, owns the company Siam Wongsuwan & Co, which is involved in real estate, transport, food and beverage and infrastructure. After my mother, Ceanay Lawan, came back from Switzerland, in 1998, from her studies, she joined her father in the family firm. I am currently being groomed to succeed her, so I'm studying Internal Business and Finance in the fall at Stanford. My grandfather wanted me to go to Chulalongkorn University, but I disagreed because my father, Samchai Lawan, went to Stanford. He is a partner in the company: My parents had an arranged marriage before heading off to school, and they did so to join their businesses.

So, I always felt like a shooting star; no one wanted to understand me, they only wanted to make wishes, and I got sick of it. I eventually decided to distance myself from others and be alone.

I had also recently come out as non-binary and queer and was trying to navigate that part of myself. Luckily my family has been supportive and welcoming of my identity, but that still doesn't change the struggle one has with their identity.

Yet one day, that all changed. I was sitting alone at lunch, reading a manga by Inori, when two girls approached my table: Carmen and Luena. Without hesitation, they sat next to me and asked where I was from and what I liked doing. Luena and I discovered we had a mutual interest in art, and Carmen and I found a mutual interest in everything else: manga, classic cartoons, queer musicians, etc. They were down to earth and genuinely wanted to hang out and be friends, and during that time, Freshman year, I fell for Carmen first, but Carmen would tell you it was the other way around.

I didn't know how to cross the friendship boundary into the romantic one; I was a shy type and had a hard time explaining my feelings. In every other endeavour, I was out-spoken, but in love, I was a blubbering mess.

I eventually just wrote her a letter, yes, it was very much fourteenth century, but it worked in the end. She accepted my confession right away and planned a romantic picnic on the beach, Santa Monica beach, our special place.

Luena and Damian deserve that shot of love that Carmen and I have, and I hope that Carmen's plan works out, but I have faith in my girlfriend. When she makes a plan, often nine times out of ten, it succeeds.