Bored in the bus... Wrote this a couple years ago :)

She just couldn't understand what had happened to her. In barely half an hour her whole life had been turned upside down, yet nothing of significance had taken place.

It had all started that very afternoon.

She had been sitting alone in the bus, minding her own business. She had, as a matter of fact, been quite bored, as her iPod had run out of battery, but she didn't have any books with her and neither did she feel sleepy enough to take a nap. The scenery, which she knew quite well -she had been taking the same bus for years, after all- wasn't all that interesting either; plenty of arid ground, no trees on sight, only a couple of mountains in the far off distance.

She was sprawled over her seat, her handbag and folder resting on the empty seat on her right, legs pressed snugly against the chair before her, feet hanging in the air. One of her arms was draped over her knees, her right hand tangled up in the folds of her shirt, left hand gently carding through her hair, barely visible through the dark curls, elbow propped up against the cold glass of the window.

She sighed.

So boring.

The bus stopped suddenly, and she winced. The abrupt stop had thrown her things over the floor, and her knee had banged quite harshly against the window.
She bent down to gather her things before the bus took off again and they rolled all over the floor. She was startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and her head snapped up to see another passenger waiting for her to vacate the contiguous seat so they could sit down.

Suppressing a flash of annoyance she grabbed her folder as she straightened up. She didn't like it much when people sat beside her, because that usually meant carrying her things over her legs, sitting straight and having her personal space invaded. She had noticed that, curiously enough, women usually chose to sit with other women while men tended to do so with other men.

And that was why she was quite surprised when she took a second look at the person still calmly waiting beside her seat to find a young man. She quickly averted her eyes and set her bag on her knees, suddenly nervous with the eye-contact.

From the brief glimpse she had gotten she could guess he must have been around her age, with dark brown messy hair and bronzed skin. He had broad shoulders, strong arms, toned legs –his left now pressed tightly against hers, the contact practically radiating heat.

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks and determinately fixed her gaze on the head of the person sitting before her.

Trying her best not to touch him, she placed the folder under her bag and crossed her arms over it.

What was she blushing at?

It was stupid, really.

She fidgeted in her seat, unnerved. Great. Now she felt uncomfortable.
She found herself sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He had his eyes closed, head thrown slightly back. With sharp features and a straight nose his face was ruggedly handsome, not exactly beautiful but appealing in a more primal way.

His eyelids fluttered and she promptly turned her face to look at the window.

Wouldn't it be embarrassing to have the stranger catch her staring at him?

The perfect icing for the perfect day, she thought sarcastically.

For a while she got lost on her own angry thoughts, and forgot all about the stranger.

And then he shifted in his seat, his arm bumping against her side, and she was startled right out of them. Their reflections on the glass locked gazes and she felt her face heating, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his.

Everything stood still for a moment, and then he turned to face the front of the bus. She thought she could see a small smirk gracing the thin lips, and her blush deepened.

He had dark blue eyes, cold as ice, that seemed to hide every single thought behind them.

She shivered, and let her arm drop.

It definitely wasn't her best idea to date, though, because now her arm too was pressed right alongside his.

His whole body seemed to radiate warmth, she noted, uncomfortable with the heat now coiling in her belly.

Her gaze wandered over the passing scenery, eyes unseeing. Her whole being seemed tuned to the stranger's presence, conscious of every breath he took, of every minute shift and turn. She had never felt so scarily alive.

She saw his reflection turn to look at her, his cold eyes roaming over her face, neck, arms, then turning away, and had to stop a small smile from spreading through her lips.

The bus lurched as its wheel got stuck into a pot hole, and the movement threw her against the window and then… well, then it threw her straight into the stranger's lap, her folder on the floor, her bag hanging on precarious equilibrium on the seat's edge, her legs somehow tangled with the stranger's, her head and breasts pressed tightly against his chest. Face aflame, she hurried to extract herself from the man, grabbing her things and throwing them haphazardly over her legs as she returned to her seat.

Well, that may not have been the most embarrassing moment in her life, but it could easily make it into the top five. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the window, but she couldn't beat back the very inappropriate images her mind had conjured at the brief but intense contact.

His chest had felt wonderful against her; the shared heat, if only so for a moment, tantalizing; the hardness of his body sparking a feeling that was part excitement part welcoming safety.

She must be losing her mind, surely, to feel so much from only an accidental touch, a stolen glimpse, a nameless face.

Her eyes truly focused on the scenery then, scared away by the thought, and she realized with a start that her stop was rapidly approaching. She didn't know whether to be grateful that the embarrassing torment would pass soon, or remorseful she wouldn't be able to prolong the contact for much longer.

She could almost feel her mid imprinting his warmth over her arm and leg, where both bodies touched, his scent thoroughly etched on her memory. He smelled like musk, an earthy, light smell, with a hint of something sweet, pineapple maybe. Probably just cologne, but still, it smelt good.

She really was going crazy, if she was thinking about the stranger's smell, of all things. Once she got out of the tight confines of the bus and got a breath of fresh air all that silliness would be forgotten, her life once more normal, no thoughts about warmth and pineapple and strange attractions clouding her head. Right.

For some reason, that didn't cheer her up all that much.

When she once more looked out of the window she was startled to see she only had a few minutes to get to the bus door if she wanted to get off on her stop.

She hastily gathered her things and rose, her movement silently asking the stranger to stand up so she could exit. She avoided looking at him as he rose, fiddling with her folder, and then she started the complicated process of extricating herself from the seats. Just as she reached the end of the seats and the frontier to that narrow, open space they had the gall to call corridor, the bus arrived at her stop and the driver pulled on the brakes, hard. As was to be expected, she once again collided against her seat partner, this time managing to somehow hold onto her things. As they both regained their equilibrium she blushed what she was sure was a brilliant scarlet. Could the day get any more embarrassing?

He helped her step out of the mess on the floor –she wasn't the only one to fall, and many bags now littered the floor- holding her arm so she wouldn't fall. With a gentle nod and a quick smirk he sat down, this time stretching out on both seats.
Mortified, she hastened to step off the bus. She didn't dare look at the road as she walked home, her mind still going over every little detail of the ride. She couldn't believe she had blushed so much; she must have looked like a fool, a little stupid girl!
Shaking her head, she jammed the keys into the bolt and opened the door. Well, at least she was home now.

Without even bothering to take off her jacket, she dropped her bag and folder onto the kitchen table and poured some water into a cup. She searched for a tea bag and then put it inside the cup, leaving the cup in the microwave and turning it on. She could really use a cup of tea now, but she had no patience for the keetle.

Wounding her hands around the cup, she sat onto one of the kitchen chairs.
She was starting to think herself a fool. If only she hadn't been so shy, she may have struck up a conversation with the stranger. He may have turned out to be a jerk or a prince charming, but now she would never know. And there had definitely been some chemistry between them.

If only she had been a little more daring, she may have met the man of her dreams. And if he wasn't, well... he sure looked like the kind of man you dream about.

"If only", and wasn't that the story of her life? Everything slipped through her fingers, every single freaking chance, because she was too much of a coward to reach out for them.

She finished her tea and brusquely put the cup aside. As she reached into her pocket for a piece of gum, her fingers brushed against a piece of something soft, and pulling it out she found a folded paper. How strange, she didn't remember putting it there.

As she unfolded the small piece of paper, she was dumbstruck. Because there, in bold letters, was a telephone number, along with a scribbled "Call me, will you?".

Maybe she wasn't too late this time, she mused, her mind filled with inspiring images. Yes, she would find the strength to take a chance, if only to look into those eyes again.