Shawn's POV
I take careful measures in the morning to make sure that I arrive on time to take the train. I'm anxious as I wait for her, wiping my mouth several times, feeling the stubble growing in all over my face. I always liked just trimming my facial hair, I hated shaving everyday. I sit across from where she sat yesterday. Who knows if she'll even get on this train car, with my luck she won't.
I had dreams about her last night. At least I think I did. I got that familiar urge in the pit of my stomach, and I woke up longing for her. And yet I still know nothing about her. Such an odd sensation. I should follow her today. What if she's not even here? What if yesterday was a fluke and I've lost her forever? I shake the terrible thoughts out of my head and try to think positively. She'll be here today.
We're getting close to West 14th, my toes tapping like crazy, my fingers fiddling with the seam of my pants, I can feel my palms starting to sweat.
When the conductor announces West 14th in that jumbled language that I can hardly understand my nerves are just on edge. And I have yet to hear her voice. How can I be so infatuated with someone I don't even know? The train stops and my eyes dart nervously back and forth. When the doors open I don't see her right away, and I can feel my heart drop. Their is no way I can find her in this city. No way.
Then she appears. Her long hair pulled half way back, body wrapped in that pink coat that echos the blush in her cheeks perfectly. I don't want to be creepy but I can't keep my eyes off of her. She sits in the same spot she sat yesterday, directly across from me. I notice as she crosses her ankles, right in front of her left. She pulls her long hair over her left shoulder and fishes in her bag yet again. I see it's the same book that she read yesterday.
This time I notice the title. The Age of Innocence. I take note that it's not a book I've read before. I resist the urge to pull up my Amazon app and order it right then and there. I make note to stop by a book store when she leaves, maybe I'll follow her out today. As if I'm not creepy enough, I want to follow her.
I watch as she reads quickly. From the way the book looks either she bought it used or has read it so many times that she almost has it memorized. I see her smile and I can't help but smile slightly in amusement. I watch as she brings her hand up to her chin, as if supporting her thoughts.
I need to find a way to speak with her.
We're nearing Broome Street, I see her start to pack up her book, moving the purple ribbon bookmark to her page and putting it back gently in her bag. I start to stand before she does, anticipating her stop. My only thoughts are that maybe if I stand by the door and she stands closer to me I can get my fill of being near her. Jesus I sound like a psychopath.
But when she stands next to me I freeze. I've always been a bit shy when it came to the opposite sex. As far fetched as that may sound, but it's easy to have girls thrown at you when you're praised as a sex symbol. The phrase always made me laugh, if they could see me as a gawky twelve year old, they'd change their minds quickly.
You can't smell anything on this subway but grime. Unless someone has an overpowering amount of perfume on, or hasn't showered in days you don't notice a fresh scent next to you. So I don't notice her smell, at least I know she's showered recently as I don't have an overpowering scent of body odor coming from her. The train stops and I feel a slight tickle, as her hair has just brushed my arm. I had taken my coat off when I sat and haven't put it back on yet. The slight touch of her hair on my skin makes me jump. The doors open and she brushes past me.
"Excuse me." She smiles slightly and continues through people. Weaving effortlessly. She just spoke to me. Her voice like a bit of magic, low and sultry. I snap out of my thoughts and exit the train, it's easy because I was being pushed from behind. I can see her jacket walking away, jumping up the steps to the street. I try not to lose her, keeping my eyes on her as I get closer to the stairs, my eyes adjusting to the new light.
When I reach the top I look back and forth to try to spot her when I notice her walking to my right. I turn to start walking in the direction that she's going. Following safely behind her, not too close, the color of her jacket helps me stalk her. I can't believe that I'm doing this. It's not my style. But something about her pulls at my thoughts like I've never experienced.
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"Oh my God, Shawn Mendes!" I cringe as a girl all but screams in my general direction. It's early enough that school hasn't even started. I pause as someone pulls on my sleeve and I stop, plastering myself with a fake smile. I put the charm on and sign autographs, take pictures, and make general conversation with the small crowd around me. By the time they have all left, my mystery girl was gone. I slouch in defeat and head back down the steps to go to my hotel.
The next day I made it my mission to at least speak with her, learn her name, anything about her. I need to squash my desires, nothing sexual, just a conversation. I'm not one to believe in love at first sight but something about this woman has me just drawn to her. I wish I could say it's just an attraction but I don't know. I won't know until I at least speak with her.
I've decided to take the empty seat next to the one she always sits in. It might be awkward, but I've come to realize that she might not want to sit next to me for that reason of a creepy man. But I'm in luck when she comes in to my train and sits right next to me. Not even bothering to look at me. I can only assume she's a true New Yorker, to never make eye contact on a train. She puts her bag on the opposite side of her, the past few days she's placed it on the seat that I'm sitting on but obviously today is different.
That's when I see them. Roses in her bag. Red roses. I drop a little bit. Flowers, red roses are the symbol of love. Of course she's with someone. Someone who looks like this girl is probably already married.
I try to covertly check for a ring, she's got an empty left hand, all though it still has small bandages on it. I can't help but wonder what she does for a living. Maybe a veterinarian? Someone that works with animals and maybe she gets scratched a lot? Maybe she's a librarian and those are paper cuts?
She pulls her book out once again and begins to read. I lean back in my seat, she's leaning forward and I notice her clothing. Her blush colored coat, skinny jeans, those tan flats again, and what looks like a dark blue shirt. Her wardrobe is simple at least, and I like simple.
I can't believe she has roses from someone. This just throws me back into my shell of nervousness. I suddenly can't speak again. Her phone goes off and she puts her book down, digging in her bag for something. She pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down a number before telling the other person on the line that she loved them and she'll see them when she gets home tonight. My confidence drops even more, she not only is with someone, she loves then and they live together. Never mind.
I watch as she gets up and stands by the door, ready to exit at her stop. I just let her go. No use getting in the middle of her relationship. I go to rest my hand on the seat when I hit something, I notice that she's left her book. Still a little warm from her fingers. I don't know what to do, she's already gone, the doors are already closed, so I take the book. Maybe she'll be riding tomorrow and I can give it back to her.
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But she wasn't riding the next day, the day after that, or the day after that. I've lost her to the city. Probably lost her forever, the only thing I have from her is this book and a few pictures that I've drawn of her.
I flip the pages of the book, I haven't had the energy to read it yet, when I notice someone has written on the inside cover of it. It's a little faded but it's still readable.
My Dearest Lucia,
I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you, thank you for choosing me. We will never end like this book, even if it is your favorite.
Love,
Salvatore
So my mystery train rider is Lucia. And her lover is Salvatore. At least she as a beautiful name to her beautiful face.
