The piercing and ever-annoying shriek of my alarm clock startled me out of my sleep. I squinted at the digital green letters of the clock. 12PM. Damn. There is absolutely no way I can make it to work on time. I'm supposed to be there at 12:30 for the afternoon shift, and the subway ride alone is twenty minutes. I sighed. I was already on my last warning and would likely get fired if I didn't show up today. Serving coffee wasn't my dream job anyway. I rolled over, and buried myself beneath my blankets.
"Clark dear, you have work." a small figure shuffled across the room towards me.
"Clark please, you'll get fired" she persisted. I groaned. Shit. I respected Grams. She's done so much for me since my parents died. I peeled myself off of the bed.
"Alright grams, I'm up." Satisfied, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and shuffled back out of the room. I glance at the clock. 12:10. Fuck me. I grabbed a pair of leggings, an old work shirt that had The Bean written in small letters on the chest, and a tattered grey hoodie. I hustled to the kitchen, took a granola bar from the almost bare pantry, and slipped on my vans. I rushed towards the door, but stopped in front of the mirror. Sheesh. My thick brown hair was sticking up in a million different directions, and unfortunately yesterday's night shift at the diner was written all over my face. I tried my best to ignore the frightening reflection and shouldered the door open. I sprinted down the street towards the subway, nearly tackling five people in the process.
The 42nd street train will be arriving in 1 minute a woman's voice called through the speaker system. I sprinted through the maze of people, down another short flight of stairs, and finally saw my train. There were no seats, so I grabbed the ring above me.
The train was packed. I barely had enough space to move my arm to scratch my nose, and I was an unwilling participant in a sandwich between a very large sweaty man and a woman who was sharing a taco with her dog. Lovely.
I glanced at the dark walls outside the subway car. How did I get here? It had been three weeks since the car crash that killed both my parents. Before the accident, I was supposed to spend a year at my grandmother's in New York for art school. I did end up in New York, not for some boujee art school though, to come stay with Grams. She's my only family left, besides my brother whose still in recovery. He only came out of the coma a week ago. All of the money my Grams has is going towards his hospital bills, so no art school for me.
The train all of a sudden lurched to a stop and startled me out of my thoughts. About half of the subway car got off, including the large sweaty man who had been practically hugging me. Thank goodness. A stream of people entered as I checked my phone. 12:25. I impatiently tapped my foot as the subway car slowly filled with people. Could people just fucking hurry up? It was like we were packing the entire city of New York into this single car.
All of a sudden, a sickening waft of alcohol filled my nostrils. I groaned. Not what I needed. The source of the smell moved in behind me. Lucky me. Because of the tight corridors I couldn't even turn around to give them a disgusted look. Judging by the way they loomed over me, I guessed it was a guy. Or a really tall woman. I peered down at their scuffed white converse. Classy.
All of a sudden, the train lurched forward causing the alcoholic to fall forward into me. The entire front of his body was now pressing into the entire backside of mine. I let out a small gasp. Holyshit. Definitely a guy. I could feel every toned muscle in his stomach pressing into the small of my back. His chest was smooshed against my upper back and I could feel it rising and falling as he breathed. And Jesus fucking christ his dick was pushed up against my butt. The only thing separating it from my bare ass was his pants and the thin material of my leggings. I stood as still as I could, afraid that if I moved it would only make things worse. I took another survey of the current situation and noticed that beneath the reek of the alcohol, he had a more subtle scent of vanilla and freshly washed clothes. His hands, which were gripping the bar above me, were frighteningly strong and massive. My eyes traveled from his hands to his arms, which revealed an array of mesmerizing tattoos. Some had harsh lines, others pranced with a certain delicacy. I know it sounds cliché, but I got a sudden urge to reach out and trace my fingers across the black ink. His olive skin was warm and all I wanted to do was touch my lips to it. Who is this guy? I was about to turn around and confront him when the muffled voice on the intercom screeched
Approaching 42nd street, now approaching 42nd street
Fuck. I checked my watch. 12:28. I could still make it. The train slowed to a stop and I hurried out the doors. I ran across the platform like a mad women, huffing and puffing. I pushed past people up to the street, and walked through the door of the coffee shop just as the clock changed to 12:30.
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AHH SO SPICY. JUST WAIT UNTIL THEY REALLY MEET.
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Broken
FanfictionClark is guilt ridden with a dark past. Harry has been struggling to cope with his new fame. They can share a million thoughts through one gaze, but it's their unsaid feelings which will be their downfall. "My eyes scanned over her face. Her tongue...
