the journal - h.s.

07

Dedicated to my friend Alex C. Happy Birthday babe x

As on routine my fingers opened the purse, as I walked closer. Just as the young - and pretty tall I noticed now - guy was about to open his mouth again. I interrupted him, “here.”

 I sounded exhausted. Absolutely dead tired - and I knew for certain I looked that way too, as the image of my reflexion flashed through my mind. If I had been at a bar - at a party - or maybe even just had encountered him at a walk in the park, I would probably have sounded a little more charming towards the good looking guy. Tried to be more friendly, inviting. But right now I couldn’t care less if he looked stunning and I looked like shit. I didn’t care that his eyes were an impeccable emerald green. And that his body was perfectly muscular. Right now I just wanted to get home - and if he had to be kicked off the buss, it was going to extent this crap bus drive. I somehow just knew it would end with the bus driver being a douche - telling the guy to get off. And the guy would of course start complain - and there you fucking go.

So that was why I stuck him the slightly crumbled one dollar bill, not even finding the utter surprise in his green tired eyes amusing. Not seen that one coming, uh?

He stared at me for a second - then at the bill still in my hand. Finally he accepted it mumbling a still slightly startled ‘thanks’. I noticed he had a small cross tattoo on his hand, as he took the bill. I didn’t say anything, simply just turned around - steadying myself on the way not to fall over in the moving bus - and returned to my beloved plastic seat.

I tried to force myself to look out through the window - trying hard to look past the steam on the glass. We were driving through a more busy street now, which made the colorful lights from the neon signs glitter through the raindrops on the pane. Dazzled by the beauty I absorbed the sight - this was partly one of the reasons I prefered nighttime over the light hours of the day. As from another world I heard the guy ask for a ticket, though his low voice was nearly drowned by the rumbling sound of the engine.

r.w.e I wrote on the glass with my index finger, watching how the color of the lights became more clean through the letters, which were clear of steam. What did it mean? r.w.e. Maybe it was the initial of the writer?

Lost in thoughts I was absentminded opening my bag intending to pull out the journal - maybe the initial was explained somewhere else in the book?

Freezing in the middle of my moment - still with the journal hidden in the bag - I saw from the corner of my eyes that he was staring. I hadn’t even noticed he had taken the seat on the exact other side of the small aisle, leaning his back against the window side and with his long legs resting on the next seat out in front of him. He was facing me - out of all the free seats he had chosen that one. Of course. I briefly looked his way in surprise - almost telling him to put his feet off the seat, in a try to make him face another direction than towards me. But I decided against it. Instead - for some unexplainable reason - I let go off the journal, slightly unwillingly though. As badly as I wanted to search further through the pages, I... didn’t feel like doing it jointly with the curious gaze of a stranger. Uncomfortably under his stare I closed the bag again resting my head in my hand facing the window instead. I hadn’t even noticed it had started raining again as I with surprise watched the huge raindrops drift sluggishly across the glass, only now did the thrumming sound catch my hazy attention.

Even with the rain it didn’t help looking out the window, as an escape from his gaze, since I could see his confident reflexion in the window glass. Slightly blurred by the traces of the drops, but he was definitely still staring; his coat was open, falling down the side of the seat revealing a white t-shirt underneath. He had a black - or maybe dark blue, I couldn’t tell by the blurriness - colored pair of skinny jeans on with a hole on the left knee. Why was he looking at me?

Before his green observant eyes would realize the mirror effect, that the darkness outside provided the window pane I moved my eyes to my slender icy fingers instead. Trying to shake off the annoyance and feeling of being watched I rolled my silver ring between my fingers, while observing how the bright light shone in the worn down silver, that attested it had been carried often.  

After a couple of minutes I looked slightly sideways only to snap my head back to the sight of my hands. He was still looking. I moved nervously in the seat; that was definitely not normal behaviour from strangers. I contemplated my options looking at the driver in his rear view mirror, who was staring dully out on the slippery dark roads. He didn’t in anyway heed the growing bizarre atmosphere between the two strangers sitting back here. If the guy tried something I could scream. Obviously the driver would hear me, right? I knew my stop was coming closer with each passing moment - what if the guy followed me out of the bus?

I grabbed a tighter hold of my bag digging my fingers into the fabric, once again letting my eyes slip his direction. I hadn’t intended to, but as my fears grew I hoped I might have imagined, how his curious green eyes had been watching me with slight wonder.

Please vote & comment x

a/n: wow what an amazing support this story has gotten - thank you so much :) votes and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated and gratefully recieved. x