Chapter Three | The Subway Station
I quickly left Elizabeth's building, in awe at what had just happened. It was only a five minute walk to the subway station.
Most teenagers who live in New York City have ridden the subway at least once in their lives. If you're like me and don't own a car, chances are you ride the subway quite frequently. The sun was just beginning to set when I disappeared into the tram station. I inserted my ticket into the slot and made my way to a bench; I was quite early and had some time to wait, so I decided to listen to music. I sighed happily as the familiar soundtrack to "Swan Lake" began to play and my eyes fluttered shut.
I love ballet. Granted, I'm probably not very good . . . but I have been dancing since I was six years old. My parents first suggested I take ballet when they became friends with the owner of a dance studio in Manhattan. My parents are journalists and they were documenting the life of legendary dancer, Vivienne Leopold. Vivienne is probably the most bubbly and generous person I had ever met. She immediately insisted that I join classes, and I've been dancing ever since. I used to spend hours in the studio, watching classes and trying on the outfits in the costume room. That's where I first learned about fashion. I plan on attending NYU and one day becoming the editor for a fashion magazine.
I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts when the subway came to a screeching halt in front of me. I took the nearest available seat, not bothering to see who I was seated beside. When I did look up, however, my stomach lurched. Next to me was a guy that looked like he had just stepped out of a clothing catalogue. He wore low-slung Adidas soccer pants and a tight white t-shirt, hinting that he had just finished working out. He had tousled dark brown hair and a soft smile, complete with an icy pair of blue eyes. Something about them looked familiar -- where had I seen those eyes before?
"Excuse me?" He smirked. "Can I help you?"
"W-what?" I stammered.
"You're staring," He grinned.
I shook my head in embarrassment. "No I wasn't!"
"Um, yeah. You were." He insisted
"Nuh-uh."
"Uh-huh."
"Nuh-uh."
"Uh-huh."
"Nuh-uh."
"Just admit it -- I'm a sexy beast."
"You aren't even remotely attractive," I lied, though my cheeks were bright red. "Plus, you're annoying."
He shook his head in amusement. "Fine, fine. But we both know the truth."
We slipped into a comfortable silence. The only sound came from the subway as it softly squeaked around bends. "Where are you from?" I asked suddenly.
"I was born in London," He said. That explained his soft English accent. "You?"
