Maybe it was the monotony of the day or the sudden rush the coffee I was drinking was giving me, but I decided to do it.
The idea had popped up in my mind after flipping through a magazine; you know the type that you buy for the glossy pictures and the hint of juicy gossip. I was just innocently flipping through the pages, waiting for the train to come, when BAM, the idea exploded in my mind and had sat there since, coercing me to follow its sugary voice. The magazine currently sat by my side, smugly gloating over its ability to manipulate me into doing rash actions.
I scanned the crowd and I spotted my target. He was flying down the stairs, full speed, hair flying, glasses daring to fall off. He was kind of cute, in a, "I'm geeky but adorable," kind of way.
Perfect.
I stuffed the wicked magazine into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. The time had come when the crowd had started to move, pushing and shoving their way to the front. I melted into the horde, eyeing my target and moving closer. The swarm of moving bodies almost made me lose my nerve, but suddenly it was back, pulsing harder than ever, willing me to go forward. My target was turning towards me, his eyes meeting mine for a second. In that moment I crashed my lips against his, and for a brief moment they stayed in contact, but then the crowds start pushing again and I let myself tear away. I dashed quickly into the train, hiding my red face from view.
I found a seat at the back, and finally let out the breath I had been holding since the kiss. Oxygen found its way back into my lungs, revitalising me.
I had just kissed a stranger, and liked it…
I was back, usual time, usual place, a week later, bubblegum snapping between my lips. I was bored out of my mind and was, at the moment, challenging myself to a game of who can make the larger bubble. I currently had a thin layer of gum plastered to my face and my fingers were caught, attempting to remove that sticky substance from my visage. Through the foggy film of bubble gum I could see a familiar shape appearing in my vision.
Crap.
No… Double Crap.
There stood the cute geek from a week ago, hair tousled, glasses in place. This time though, he was with friends, laughing. My hands flew to my face, suddenly energised to get this damn gum off my face. I grappled with it for a minute, finally ripping it from my face, catching a few hairs along the way, causing my scalp to sting. Grapping my bag I stood up, attempting to flee from the scene. I took a step forward while looking over my shoulder at the geek.
CRASH
A loud, "FUCK," ran out through the room, my voice displaying my surprise as my knapsack flew across the floor, right towards the person I was trying to avoid.
"Watch where you're going next time," said a menacing voice. I looked down and realised it was coming from a very short woman that I had bumped into.
"And watch your language!" she said before walking off triumphantly, proud of the fact that she had stood up to a giant, aka me.
I nodded dumbly, suddenly realising that my bag could currently be in the hands of my geeky, "lover." I scrambled over to where my bag lay, bending over to retrieve it. As I was reaching down, I spotted converses right behind my bag,
Cool.
My foggy mind then suddenly registered that they were attached to a pair of feet, which were, magically, attached to a pair of legs. I let my eyes drift up these magical legs, finally viewing torso and chest of a perfect stranger and I suddenly found myself staring into the face of the geek. His brown eyes twinkled in amusement, then, suddenly, recognition hit. His mouth formed a small, "oh," like he was trying to say something. In that moment it finally donned on me that I should go, so after grabbing my bag, I once again fled the scene.
For the second time in about a week, I found myself breathless, hiding at the back of the train car. My face was still bright red from the encounter, glowing nicely like a beacon on a ship. And there I sat for a while taking in what had just happened.
"He, just saw me!" I said gasping for air, while others around me eyed me suspiciously. I shot back a sweet smile, which was, well, fringing on crazed; I raised my eyebrows just to add effect.
I have no problems with embarrassment, as long as you don't see the person again, or it's with close personal friends, that are, hopefully, above blackmail. After my experience with geek-boy, I decided that smiling freakishly was somehow going to come back and bite me on the butt. Like suddenly in the worst moment possible someone would pop up and go, "Aren't you the girl who likes to stare and smile strangely at people," and with my luck they would add, "and kiss random strangers?"
There was no hope left for me. I would have to go into the witness protection program and change my name.
I let my mind ramble on at this point, over the possibilities of moving to Australia or becoming a secret spy for the Canadian Mounted Police. I had visions of myself, dressed in spy ware on a horse charging at a windmill like Don Quixote. Then my mind found its way back to the situation at hand, trying to remember why exactly I stared at him for so long. Well at least he has a nice body, I giggled to myself, remembering that light muscling he has under his geeky exterior. With that vision in mind I slumped back into my seat, sending my mind off to places where warriors roamed and love is always in the plotline.
Way hey and away we go Was you ever in Quebec
Donkey riding, donkey riding
Way hey and away we go
Ridin' on a donkey.
Launchin' timber on the deck?
Where ya break yer bleedin' neck
Ridin' on a donkey!
I mouthed the words as I tapped out the beat on the seat. My head bobbed along to the rhythm, earphones dancing right along.
I was once again trapped on the train home, inhaling the, "sweet," smell of many people's body odour. It had been weeks since the last incident, and I was finally confident that I would never see Mr. Geek again. For the first few days after the whole debacle, I had worn sweaters with big hoods and large hats that covered my eyes. I attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible, like a spy on a mission.
Was you ever 'round Cape Horn
Where the weather's never warm?
Wished to God you'd never been born
Ridin' on a …
My mouth stopped moving and my fingers stopped tapping as I felt my right earphone get ripped out of my ear. I turned in the direction of the force that had removed the earphone, scowl in place. I came face to face with shining brown eyes and floppy brown hair.
"Hello," he said, bright smile in place.
My tongue suddenly got stuck in my mouth, attempting to form words, realising exactly who was sitting beside me.
"Ahh, heh, hello" I managed to spit out, as I tried to make my tongue move.
"Watcha listening to?" he replied, smile widening at my inability to talk.
"Umm, Great Big Sea," I said, removing the other earphone from my ear and shutting off my discman. I had a funny feeling that this was going to be interesting.
"I like fish, do you like fish?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, getting comfortable.
"What?"
"Well, you said you were listening to Great Big Sea, and that made me think of fish, and well I decided I like them."
"Oh."
This conversation was getting stranger and stranger by the second. I was suddenly wondering why I didn't kiss someone a lot less odd.
"If you were a pirate, what pirate features would you have?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly afraid of what I had done.
"You know like a wooden leg, or like a parrot. I personally would go for a hook, it would be pretty cool for, you know, scaring people." He said, brown eyes sparkling in amusement.
"Hmmmm, I have never really thought about that, I think, maybe a wicked scar." I replied cautiously, actually thinking about what type of pirate I would like to be, a first in my mind.
"Nice, scars are pretty sweet, I actually have one right here," he replied pushing up the sleeve of his shirt.
For a moment I was afraid that he was going to show me some creepy, mangled scar. I breathed a sigh of relief when he pointed to a white line on his elbow.
"Where did you get it?" I inquired.
"Fighting dragons."
"Oh really, if that is true, then I'm the King of England," I said, sarcastically.
"Do you ever feel like an old man?" he questioned.
"No, not really."
"A-ha, then you aren't the king of England, wait, whoops," his eyes sparkled at his downfall, "well then we have established that you are not the king of England."
"Well, I was hoping that I was not an old man that would, be a bit strange. Now, really, how did you get that scar?"
He looked down, his face looked kind of embarrassed, "I was sleep walking, and well I, kind of fell into a bush."
"Where was this bush, in your room?"
"Well, I was kind of sleeping outside, as I was camping. I got up in the middle of the night, it seems, and wandered around the campsite asking for marshmallows. In the end, I guess I decided that the bush was filled with marshmallows and started to, umm, eat the leaves."
"You serious?"
"Yep, and then, somehow in my befuddled brain I decided to leap into the bush."
"Wow, that is insane."
"Ya."
"Well, it can't be as bad as the time when I young and decided that I wanted to be a butterfly."
"Did you try to fly?"
"Well, sort of…" I trailed off, suddenly realised that we were at my stop. I rushed to grab my stuff and shoved my CD player into my bag.
"I've got to go, sorry," I quickly said.
"Oh okay," his eyes a little downcast at my sudden departure.
I rushed out the doors, as I attempted to fling my bag onto my back. I turned around to wave goodbye to him, but I was too late, the doors had already closed and the train was rushing away. My hair flew up in my face, filling my mouth with hair, but I did not see him.
I was sitting there alone, again, no magazine or gum to entertain me. It was three days later after my latest encounter with Geek-boy, but I found myself wanting to see him again, vainly hoping to see him rushing down the stairs. I had no such luck, for I sat there in silence, listening to the conversation of a couple strangers, letting their words wash over me.
Ding, Ding.
I heard the signal, the train was coming. I gave the tunnel one last disparaging look around before I prepared, like always, to get onto the train. It felt like the magic that had held me in place the last few weeks had run out, that there would be no more laughing at the silly things that I had done, that I would never see him again. It is strange that I had grown so attached to someone I hardly knew, but the feeling was there. It wasn't love, just an attachment, a need to see him again, to actually find out his name instead of using all those silly nicknames.
I stood up, hoisting my bag over my shoulder, bracing myself for the impact of the jostling crowds. I stepped forward, joining the hordes moving towards the train, but then I felt a sudden tug at my hand, and I felt myself being whipped around. For a brief moment I saw his eyes, looking deep into my own. Then I felt his lips crashing down on mine, moving over them, feeling them. I could feel the crowd move around me, but I didn't care. The train was off, whipping our hair around our faces, but we held on to each other.
When we finally broke apart, I looked up at him, smiling.
"What is your name?"
"Patrick."
Well I hope you liked it! I would like to thank icygaze for betaing it.
Thanks for reading