He wasn't on the bus the rest of the week, but I saw him again on the next Monday.
"I only catch the bus on Mondays" he told me the next time I saw him, almost as though he knew the question was floating in my mind. I nodded and tried not to admire his athletic build for too long.
"How come I've never seen you on the bus before?" He asked me on the next Monday.
"I rarely used to catch it." I muttered back awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't realise he'd become a prime reason for me to catch the bus.
I felt so immature at the way I became so excited just to see his pretty face that I was beginning annoy myself. It was just his face, I mean, I knew nothing about his personality.
For all I knew he could be a racist, homophobic alcoholic.
YOU ARE READING
The Consequences of Chance Meetings
Historia CortaThey first met at a bus stop, completely by accident. The few stolen glances slowly snowballed into brief conversations which slowly bloomed into something more. They never were supposed to fall for one another, but that boy somehow melted her ice w...
