Heartbeats

People always say love is a wonderful experience. It brings the heart warmth and defines us. Love makes us do stupid, unreasonable things, for all the right reasons.

 George Elliot once said ‘what greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories’.

I agree with him, love is truly a connection greater than any other feeling we could ever experience. It makes us who we are.

Love.

It’s the world’s best excuse in many ways. So… why can’t it be mine?

Catching the Subway in the morning was just a daily occurrence for me, busy stations, cramped trains and hardly any seats, which is how I found myself holding onto an oddly greasy pole as the train sped down the track, occasionally bumping into people who had somehow managed to squeeze in beside me.

“Sorry” I mumbled to an angry looking man whose forehead seemed two times to big and his eyes small and beady. He gave me a grunt and I moved to the other side of the pole, my bag constantly clanging against my leg. Of course, catching the subway was not one of my favourite options, but it was in my price range. Ever since I moved to California from Iowa I’d been a little short in the money department; college tuition was not cheap, which meant no car. ‘ Come on Mark, as if I’d let you take that thing to California’. So my dad had agreed to keep my amazing car at home, and buy me instead, a subway card. So here I was, stuck on the cramped and rather smelly train, and it would most likely stay this way for the next month.

As I stood there, I looked around and decided that, yes, it was a little crowded, but not as rowdy as most days. I could actually see down the train to the other cart now as people had departed at the last stop, my eyes scanning the seats.

They were all filled.

I gripped the pole again and lifted my arm, the books in the moving slightly as I did, almost slipping from my grip. I let go of the pole and clung to them, my eyes landing on the person about three seats to my left.

It was a Boy

And my god, he was gorgeous.

His hair was a mess of dark curls that fell into his deep green eyes, which seemed to shine brightly as he scanned his morning paper. His skin was young and slightly tanned his lips peach and plump. I felt my breath get hitched in my throat as he looked up at me from underneath his long, dark lashes.

I proceeded to choke and drop my books on the little old lady in front of me.

“ Oh my god! I am so sorry!” I cried as I hurriedly picked them up, the little women giving me daggers as she muttered something about ‘clumsy youth’ under her breath. I mentally slapped myself as I saw the dark haired boy bite back a smile.

Wonderful. I’d gone and embarrassed myself. Typical me.

I was about to stumble down the train and perhaps find somewhere else to stand when the boy stood, his baggy jacket hanging down to just above his knees, placing the paper he had tightly under his arm. He looked at me and smiled, and kindly offered out his hand for me to sit.

“ Oh, no its fine” I mumbled, my words sticking to the end of my tongue. The boy took a tight hold of the pole and manoeuvred himself around me so he was now further away from the seat, the smile still on his lips.

“Thank you.” I smiled weakly and I sat down, my books now resting safely on my knee, the little old lady seeming somewhat happier with this exchange. The boy nodded at me once and opened up his paper, leaning his back against the pole, eyes now back on the page. He gave me a small look and a smile before he did and I blushed.

Yeh, I could get used to riding the train.