Choso Kamo | Short Stories

Prada Boots

I stared at the pair of Prada boots tapping on the floor of the train in front of me.

They moved rhythmically to a song, probably very different than mine, but still matched the beat. I imagined myself tapping my own boots to the song blasting in my ears.

It was busy on the train, and a few people stood between me and Prada boots, so I couldn't see the face of the owner.

My stop was still 30 minutes away, so what better way to spend my time than people-watching? I watched as a couple exchanged small words, an elderly man flipping through his newspaper, and a middle-aged woman snoozing off.

When I drifted my gaze back to the Prada boots, they were gone. A part of me felt sad that I couldn't see the person properly... except he was standing right in front of me, holding onto the pole.

I assumed he gave up his seat for someone in need, I also assumed he was people-watching, too. I also assumed he was around my age, which didn't help the flutters in my chest.

I spent my whole life crushing on people in subways and aeroplanes and grocery stores that it became a habit, a bad one. But I can't help it when they're attractive as hell.

Speaking of which, this man, in particular, was so fine. he wore a white sweatshirt that hugged his shoulders well, showcasing a well-defined torso underneath the fabric. He had wrapped a purple scarf around his neck, hiding the lower half of his face.

And the best part, is black cargo pants and Prada boots.

Now, I'm no fashion expert, nor a fashionista myself, and I highly question his sense of fashion, but it all suits him very well.

We reached another stop, and the seats beside me cleared. He didn't waste a breath and sat down next to me. In these cases, my heart would reach my throat and swallow all comprehension and words. But I felt brave today, for some reason.

I nudged his knee with mine, trying to grab his attention (I think he was zoning out, or maybe just sleepy).

He turned to me, eyes tired and surrounded with purple bags, and removed one of his headphones.

"I like your boots."

An eyebrow shot up, then a small smile. "That's sudden, but thanks." He took a glance at mine. "I like yours, too."

Who is he kidding, mine are 5 years old and worn out.

I chuckle. "I doubt, thanks."

He regarded me with a squint. "Okay, yeah. I have this thing where I have to compliment people back."

"I figured." I smiled. "I'm Kimi."

"Choso."

"When's your stop?" I had to ask.

"Three stops away."

Can this go anywhere further?

"And yours?" He asked, and I fought the urge to scream because I suck at small conversations, and he's not the driest bush in the desert.

"Four."

"Ah, bummer." He muttered. "You use this train often, Kimi?"

I don't think I want to hear my name from anyone else but him from this day on.

"Yeah, most of the time," I answered simply. "I've never seen you before, though."

He shrugged. "I don't usually use trains, but my bike is being repaired today."

Excuse me, bike? As in, "You're a biker?"

Looking away, he tried to hide his smile. "You can say so."

He knows the hype about bikes, for sure.

"You have a backpack?" I asked, moving forward to look at him properly. Oh boy, you're not escaping me. If I don't leave this train with his number or something, I might as well kill myself.

He grins. "No, but I think I just got myself one. I have a feeling you won't let me go if I didn't offer you a ride."

I feign an offended gasp. "I'm not that bad, but bikers are my weakness. You can't just drop that information and expect me to act normal."

"Alright, I'll take you backpacking sometime." Choso smiled, looking into my eyes, and it felt like a promise.

"How can I contact you?" You're being very bold today, Kimi.

He kept smiling, as if it was a habit when he was feeling shy or nervous. Maybe both... am I making him nervous in a bad way? What if he's just playing along and doesn't really want to?!

"You don't really have to, you know, if you're uncomfortable or anything -"

"Hush."

"What?"

"I would've made it very obvious if I was."

"Oh."

He handed me his phone, a new contact already opened and waiting for my info. I put my name and number and a note saying 'backpack'.

"You trust strangers way too fast. What if I was a serial killer?" He asked in a serious tone, which caught me off guard.

I held eye contact. "How do you know I'm not one, either?"

It went on for a few seconds longer than it should have, and he grinned again. "Almost got me there."

The speakers rang, announcing the upcoming stop. Choso looked up, then away.

"That's me."

Then he turned again as he stood up to leave. "I'll see ya around, backpack."

And he was gone.

Backpack is the new sweetheart. And my heart is hammering in my chest. What a day. Holy shit, Kimiko.

— •°•°•°•°•°• —

☆I honestly don't know, but biker Choso is hot as hell.