When India met Ivory

Chapter Two

It's the middle of winter. During this dreaded season my walks to the bus stop always seem so much longer than they are during any other season. Maybe it's the fact that the walk to my bus stop is about four blocks away from my house or maybe it's because I don't have thick jackets so I am always freezing my ass off whenever I step foot outside.

I keep my music as loud as it can go whenever I walk in the mornings. It takes my mind off of everything and keeps my mind blank of all the things that I shouldn't think about. And all that I am focusing on is the smooth, rhythmic beats of the songs.

As I making my way to about the third block from my house, I begin to feel uneasy. A queasy feeling settles in my stomach and I feel like running. There is something or someone behind me.

'It's probably just a dog. Or Mrs. Smith taking her morning jog.' I tell myself in a failed attempt to try and calm myself only to realize that today is Wednesday. Mrs. Smith only jogs on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Shit.

My heart feels like a hummingbird in my chest. I take a peek out my peripheral to try and catch a glance of what or who is behind. I can only tell that it is a man. I refuse to turn around and look at him. He could be a rapist or an axe murderer or worse.

'Maybe if I stop and pretend to tie my shoes then he'll go around me and I can see who he is.' I think to myself . Abruptly I stop and pretend to tie my shoe. After about ten seconds he walks around me and I can see that he is a male, he is tall, with broad shoulders, a muscular back, and he has brown hair. That is all I can decipher.

Suddenly I can see my bus pulling up in the distance. Shit. I quickly stand to my feet and break into a sprint. I push past the stranger and suddenly he is running also. Does he ride my bus also? Maybe he is a new student. I continue to run even though I see that my bus has already come to a complete stop and is waiting on me. As I am slowing to a stop I try to catch my breath a little before I get on the bus and I sound like a panting dog for the whole journey to school.

I climb up the steps of the bus with my legs feeling as though they might give up under me at any second. I shakily walk down the aisle to my seat and slide to the window. I have a whole seat to myself. That is a treasure on my bus because there are so many people that ride the bus that it is hard to sit by yourself every day.

When the bus driver doesn't pull off and continue driving I look up to see what's keeping her from doing so. Whilst doing so I catch the gaze of the most beautiful hazel eyes I have ever seen in my eighteen years of living. They are a muddy hazel filled with so many different colors. But it seems to be mostly green and brown. With the occasional appearance of orange and gold. And in that moment I realize that he is speaking and staring straight at me. I take out an earphone. Symbolizing that I couldn't hear him and that he should repeat what he just said.

"Is this seat taken?" His accented baritone voice asks. Hesitantly I shake my head and begin to move my things so he can sit down. As I put my earphone back in, I begin a silent prayer that he will not make an attempt to talk to me. And thankfully the whole ride he just sits quietly. I cannot tell if he has in earphones or not.

Although, my guess is that he doesn't considering that every time one of the rowdy kids in the back of the bus says something disgusting or unintelligent he kind of smiles and shakes his head, the kind of thing a parent does when their child makes an inappropriate joke in public, and they secretly think it's funny.

Then all too quickly his scent invades my senses.He smells of Irish spring soap and something else that is homely and warm.

It seems too soon that the bus is pulling into the parking lot of the school and everyone begins to gather their things and make their way off of the bus. But, I always wait until almost everyone is off of the bus to get off. Most days I am last to get off. When I do not make a move to get my things the boy gently touches my shoulder, as if I would break into a thousand pieces if he weren't careful with his large hands, and gestures that it's time to get off of the bus. I nod in acknowledgement and but I still sit perfectly still. He gets up and makes his way off of the bus.

Steadily, I begin to gather my things and make my way off of the bus to head to my first class of the day. Once I arrive I take my usual seat by the window and stare into space. I am the only one in this class that does not have a partner and I like it that way. I get out of a lot of group activates and such simply because I do not have a partner.

As Mr. Wiley begins class there is a knock on the door. He shuffles over to answer it and on the other side is the boy that sat with me in the seat this morning. I see Mr. Wiley gesture over to my table and tells him to take a seat. As he makes his way over to be seated we lock eye contact. And I expect him to break it, but he doesn't. He holds it until I turn my head back to the window. And the class starts.

It is about the middle of class when I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder and I turn my head to see what it is that is needed. The boy stares at me and makes an attempt to smile. He is beautiful. He has a tan and he has stubble all across his jaw. He has thick brown lashes and a medium length haircut. His hair is a mess of thick curly and wild tendrils, as if he just woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, and came to school. His hair is dark brown and it looks very soft and silky . He has a strong nose and angular jawline. And Jesus he is beautiful. He is speaking. Christ. He is speaking to me again.

"Huh?" I manage to croak out. He stares at me for a bit with his brow furrowed then proceeds to hold out his hand. "My name is Ivory. Yours?" I gawk at his hand for some time then I look back up at him. I don't return his handshake.

"India."