Betsy is going to talk to Mrs. Smith and Alinia today. I wanted to go with her, but I have class. Just one today, Forensics. But it's a three hour lecture. I hate those. I usually tune out, my hand automatically copying down notes. It usually passes quickly, as it did today.
It's cold outside. It's February 21st, and there is a fine layer of powdered snow on the ground. I forgot to coat this morning, because I was almost late to the tube, so I pull my jumper tighter around my shoulders, pull the hood up over my head and pull on my thin gloves. Throwing my small backpack over my shoulder, I set out against the wind towards the tube stop. I pass a Starbucks and debate on whether or not I should get one, but decide against it. They can be pretty pricey. Don't have enough money for that. I nearly slip on the cobblestone street. Pay attention, I tell myself.
Finally, I reach the tube stop, eyes stinging from the wind. Fortunately, I arrived just before the tube did. I didn't have to wait long. There is two seats left in the car I step onto. I quickly take one, but the other one remains empty. Two other guys enter the car, but both stand and hold onto the rail attached to the ceiling. I shrug off my backpack and get more comfortable. It's an hour and a half tube ride to downtown London. I have a while. I pull a book out of my backpack. Anna Kareninaby Leo Tolstoy. A thick novel, but interesting. I look at my watch. Just now five o'clock in the evening. I should reach my stop in London about six-thirty. I start reading.
“Excuse me.” A voice rips me from the pages. I look up. A guy is standing over me, leaning against the pole next to my seat by the door. He's cute. Very cute. Black shaggy hair, and the greenest sea green eyes I've ever seen. I smile, and he smiles in return. Perfect teeth, perfect chin...perfect everything. He is wearing a black zip up jumper, like mine, and dark skinny trousers with what Americans call 'skater shoes.' Baseball player build. Cute. No, not even cute. Hot. That's the only thing that can describe him.
“Yeah?” I ask as I feel heat rush up to my cheeks. Don't turn into a tomato, Haylei, I scold myself. He smiles bigger.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks. I laugh.
“Well, you just did...”
“Well,” he grins sheepishly, laughing. “May I ask you another?”
“Sure.” I smile. Gosh, he is...wow. Knock it off, Haylei! He's a guy...You and guys don't get on well.
“I was just wondering...Did it hurt when you fell? From Heaven, I mean.” I feel more heat rush to my cheeks. Was that even possible?
“Well, um...seeing as I have never fallen from Heaven, I wouldn't know. But I can imagine so,” I laugh.
“You mean, you're not an Angel?” He looks puzzled. Gosh, that makes him that much more adorable. He needs to stop it now.
“No,” I scoff. “Far from it.” He looks at me in disbelief. He gestures at the seat next to me.
“May I sit?”
“Sure.” He sits, and I put my book back in my bag and shift around so I could face him.
“My name is Shayne Mattison, by the way.” He holds out his hand.
I manage not to cringe. I smile and shake his hand. “Haylei. Haylei Watson.”
“Well, Haylei, Haylei Watson. What brings you out on such a dreary, frigid day?” He laughs, his green eyes alight with joy.
I tell him about my forensics classes. He then tells me about his classes there at Oxford. He wants to be a published writer. Then we move onto random things, ideas, books, music. We laugh loudly and often. People stare at us. We both pretty much love the same things. I keep telling myself to be careful. It was just like this with Bentley.
