Unexpected

Chapter 5

                “Uh, excuse me!”  I could feel my skin getting hot and my eyebrows furrow. You NEVER get Tiffany Browning mad.                

Like the guy had no care in the world, he lazily whipped his head around to face my piercing glare. The brown hair he sported looked like not even a steel brush could untangle it. And the dirt on his cheek made his appearance even worse than the rest of his body could.                

“So it speaks!” He mocked.                

Oh my God. Immediately, my hatred for this stranger just topped the hate scale. Scratch that, burst the hate scale. And that’s especially hard considering, well, I’m Tiffany.                

“Who the hell do you think you are?” My hand slapped down on the arm rest beside me and I tilted my whole body toward the ratty boy, now, “You can’t just walk up here from a freaking cop chase and take my seat! Do you even realize how much first class on a train costs? You probably don’t even have any mon-“                

I was abruptly cut off by the bellowing speakers above saying the train was leaving the station and would be arriving in Virginia in 10 hours.                

My cheeks blazed. The boy sitting next to me maintained the “I don’t care” look with ease. I watched in fury as he sighed and shut his eyes. He was so NOT staying here!                

Huffing and puffing, I planted my heels on the ground and exited the booth. Where the heck are those train attendant women? Or are those just on planes?                

I turned the corner of my first class hall way and into another one with ugly 80’s style wood paneling. This hallway was vacant too!                

“Gah!” I yelled, tugging at the glossy blond locks on my head.                

“Problem?” Came a familiar husky voice from behind.                

I whipped around at the sound hoping to find someone to complain to.                

“You!” I spat, pointing my finger in his direction.                

The boy that stole my seat!                

“Yes, me,” he stated, pointing to himself. Ugh! Why does he have to be so annoyingly sarcastic!                

“You, are my problem!” I cried, stomping my way over to the man. Intimidation wasn’t my forte, but I could certainly try.                

With every step towards the dirty boy, his height became more and more pronounced. Gulping, I looked up at his tall frame.                

Why can’t he be short! This whole, beat him up thing would have been so much easier!                

Glancing back down at my French tipped tails I decided against the violence. But that doesn’t mean I can be a little rough!                

Jutting a finger into the loose flannel he was wearing, I strained to make my words as lethal as possible while trying to hold in a swoon from the hardness of his abs. I wish Rick had abs.                

No, this guy is bad.                

Focus Tiff.                

“I don’t know what kind of bad boy you are,” I started, “and I don’t care. You are going to find yourself a new seat. Or else. Got it, boy?” I could feel my green eyes set on fire as I glared almost straight up at a pair of incognizant blue ones.                

“Whatever you say Blondie,” The boy shrugged and looked down at my hand.                

Realizing my finger was still on his belly, I quickly let my hand fall down to my side. An annoying, uncontrollable blush licked at my cheeks. I am so gross.                

“I have a name, you- you,” There it was again, the blush. I started to stutter.                

“Oh my God, Tiff,” I thought to myself, “This hobo is killing you”                

“Chris, I’m Chris,” he said, raking his hand through the rat’s nest he had as hair, with a small smirk on his lips.                

He was mocking me! This is some smart way to secretly make fun of me. I can’t let him get to me. Even if I could go swimming in his eyes, he smells.  Besides, I have to keep my eye on the prize. And wait for my next train, in 10 hours.                

The prize was Rick. And this Chris guy was tampering with my focus.                

With one last glare, I brushed past Chris and plodded my way back to my booth before he could catch up to me. I could just lock him ou-                

“Hey, aren’t you going to tell me your name?” Came that husky voice behind me, “Where’s your manners?”                

I snorted. Manners?                

Yeah, and running from cops and stealing someone’s train seat is the perfect example of manners.                

Finding my way back to the first booth, I quickly jumped in, shutting the sliding doors and turning the lock on them as quickly as possible.                

Eye on the prize, Tiffany.                

Eye on the prize.                

Not those blue eyes.                

Eye on the prize.                

Blue eyes on the prize.                

Blue eyes on my eyes.                

Blue eyes.                

Blue eyes.