he's mine, but who is he?

CHAPTER ONE

ONE

At the end of Jim's presentation I give a big applause. That was great. My best friend just presented

his business idea for the very first time. Seems like he convinced the jury as well. I have to explain

just one little thing, Jim can answer all of the other questions himself. It was worth it that I took him

to my work two weeks ago. Now he knows all the basics of a goldsmith. In my boss' studio we will

produce the buckles and other details as well as jewellery that match to his shoes. Nothing could

be better than a best friend who is a shoemaker. I mean, he really learnt how to build a shoe, as

e.g. sewing, not just to design it.

To celebrate this day, we go to our favourite restaurant, the spaghetti factory and chink glasses to

our future success. When we have our dessert, Jim's phone rings. His lover has the flu and asks

him to come home. I don't really like John, but the two of them are happy for a quite long time now. I

assure him that I don't mind going home by train and so he leaves me.

It's icy cold outside and I walk to the railway station fast. My train goes on line eighteen, at the far

end of the station and there's no wall to protect me from the cold wind that blows snowflakes to me.

I detest winter. I'm very grateful when my train finally arrives. I get into a free cabin and take the

window seat. I thrown my bag on the one to my left and mentally thank the guy, who left his

newspaper there. There's really nothing to compare to the luxury of being able to put your shoes on

a seat on a Friday evening. Hmpf, another ten minutes until the train will drive off. The wagon slowly

starts to get full, so I take my bag to me. And regret it the next moment. One of those peroxide blond

make-up disasters puts her half naked ass on this seat, arguing very loudly with someone on her

phone. To my sorrow, a hoody (you can't see anything else) takes the last seat. Sighing, I get my

iPhone out and try to relax with some of my music. Not an easy endeavor when the heater is to hot,

the seat uncomfortable and the train full of party people with to much perfume and old, stinky jerks.

At least the bitch next to me walks away to search some friend and the noise level goes back to

normal.

I have read about it in many books, how you can feel eyes on you. I never experienced that for

myself. Until now. When we come into a tunnel, the window reflects everything and I try to find out

who's watching me. At that moment, the hoody takes his hood down. It reveals the most beautiful

face I have ever seen. Every single cell of my body screams to touch him.

He looks up at me, as if he could somehow feel my stares. Oh my god, he's eyes are grass-green

and endless. Abashed, I take my eyes away and suddenly have an urge to find my iPhone and

change the music. To make matters worse, my lipstick drops out. I close my eyes and wait for the