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I thought about those fingers flicking me.
And more. I thought about a whole lot more.
With that, the stranger held his novel up for me to see the cover.
Mythago Wood.
My mouth dropped open. For real, it dropped open. He’d picked up the very same novel I’d been reading.
I held up my cover right back.
Lavondyss.
The very same novel he’d mentioned.
His mouth didn’t drop open, but he was shocked too. I could see it in his eyes.
I smiled, and blushed, and looked down at my lap, and it was stupid. A doofus move on my part, because with that he looked right down at his. And we were done.
There was silence all the way through Wenton and Eastworth and Newstone. My insides were screaming, right the way from my toes to my teeth, including all the bits that shouldn’t be screaming. I was ditzy in my seat, not sure how to sit right, and wanting nothing more than to sit next to him.
I nearly did it. Nearly. I nearly summoned up the courage to say something… until an utter loudmouth jumped on board at Churchley and sat down across the aisle. He was on his phone and laughing way too loud for pre-eight a.m., guffawing at everything the other person said like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t shut up, and in other circumstances I wouldn’t have wanted him to – I love it when people laugh like that. Just not today. Today it was a blare of noise I really didn’t want to hear.
My stranger didn’t look at me. Not at Churchley. He didn’t look at me as we chugged on closer to Harrow, not when I looked up at him, or when I shifted myself in my seat. Nothing. Just him devouring Mythago Wood while I devoured him. And then the inevitable happened.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow.
Damn it.
I shoved Lavondyss under my arm and grabbed my bag from the seat, resigned to walking away without a word. But no.
He cleared his throat as I stood, and he met my eyes as I looked his way.
“Have a nice day, Chloe.”
Hearing his voice was enough to light the whole grey sky outside. My smile back must have blinded him by the force.
“You have a nice day, too,” I said.
And then I bounded away.
I guess that’s where it started. Hello, stranger.
Every morning I’d get a tickle of excitement when I stepped onto that train.
Hello, I’d say, and hello, he’d say back. Over and over as I sat myself down opposite, both of us in the same seats on every ride.
I’d hold my cover up and he’d hold up his, and we’d smile, and sometimes we’d comment, but that would be it. He’d drop his eyes and I’d pretend to drop mine, sitting with this weird tingly squizzle inside until Harrow. The next station is Harrow. And then I’d shove my novel under my arm and jump to my feet ready to leave, and he’d speak next. Always.
Have a nice day, Chloe.
I’d smile back. Always. Bright enough that I must’ve burned the whole entire carriage with the glow.
You have a nice day, too.
The first couple of days I thought I’d pluck up the courage to start up some great conversation about the literary brilliance of the novels on our laps. I figured that’s all it would be, just a bit of time and enough confidence to find my voice. But it wasn’t that.
It was him.
He wasn’t speaking, and the quiet was getting quieter. I was feeling it more and more and getting more squiggly inside, and even then, nine days after he first said hello back at me, it was still such a nervous thing for me to even think about starting up some random book conversation with him that I didn’t think I ever could.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow.
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
He was reading 1984 and To Kill a Mockingbird. I was reading The Scarlet Letter and Silas Marner.
Liam was moaning at me every night, and rolling over with a groan every night, and I was slipping my fingers down between my legs and thinking about salt and pepper hair and cultured fingers and promising myself that tomorrow I’d suddenly find my voice and damn well just say something.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Every day I raced to work, always worried I wasn’t going to make it, and only just turning up on time.
Every day I learned what I could, and got ready for Franklin Ward, crapping myself scared in case I wasn’t good enough to work with the best.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Every single day I kidded myself that maybe that day would be the day I found my voice and said more than hello to my stranger.
