I smile at her, and then my eyes wander down the platform, searching him out. It’s five minutes until departure, and Jared hasn’t made his appearance yet. It is definitely his week to travel to London—I keep a little secret code on my calendar of when his weeks are. I had two weeks off work, and then he wasn’t due last week, but this week, he is. I’ll admit, I didn’t mention anything to him about those train rides and how I fell desperately in love with him and his dorky ways before he even noticed my existence. Heather and I agreed it was best to just pretend it never happened unless he brought it up first; she said I’d look less like a crazy stalker then.
When he still doesn’t make an appearance, I frown and wonder if I’ve gotten my days muddled. I saw it on my calendar this morning though; I am sure of it. The little MCM scribbled in the corner of the box with today’s date next to it. I went through the whole rest of the year one drunken night, not long after the little girl and the magic show, and marked all of his weeks onto it, so I could count down to seeing him again.
Suddenly, with one minute to spare before departure, I see him. He’s speed-walking towards the last carriage of the train, sidestepping around a slow walker. My eyes rake over him. He looks a little less put together today, a little less neat than the usual pristine guy I’m accustomed to. His jacket is undone and hanging loose, there are no crisp edges to his shirt, and his tie is a little off to one side and not the perfect, neat Windsor knot I’ve seen him fuss with in the mirror for ages until it is just right. Whatever this meeting is for in London every other week is obviously, decidedly more casual than his usual day-to-day job. He looks smart still, just not the impeccable, professional man I’m used to seeing.
He climbs aboard the carriage at the opposite end of the long train to me, just as my walkie-talkie announces it’s time to make last-moment checks before the doors close.
I do my checks and then signal that we are ready to leave and step onto the train, locking the doors. When we’re safely moving, I head out of the room at the end and start my ticket collection duties. As predicted in my morning briefing, the train is unusually busy today, crammed full of people who spill out of the carriages and into the corridors. We’ve been forewarned that there is some sort of huge convention in London today, so we expect extra passengers, but my bosses didn’t predict it to be this rammed; otherwise, there would have been another conductor assigned to help me.
I work my way through the train, collecting money, punching tickets, and dodging people who sway dangerously in the aisles. It takes me so long to work my way down the train that we are almost at London by the time I get to the last carriage. A few people have gotten on and off along the way, the crowd thinning a little, but mostly, the train is still packed.
I can see Jared; he’s in the corridor right at the end, near the toilets. He’s leaning against the wall, knees slightly bent, briefcase settled on the floor between his feet, one hand stuffed into his trouser pocket, the other holding his phone as he scrolls through something with his thumb. My legs are trying to force me to abandon my job and go to him, but I hold my ground and perform my duties.
As I get closer, my excitement builds. He doesn’t look up as I serve the last few people, and I silently reflect on how nervous I would usually be at this time. Approaching Jared (or my crush, as I called him back when I didn’t know his name) is always the highlight of my fortnight but also the most nerve-racking too. It is an oxymoron how I’d be so excited yet so scared of the moment when I approached him.
Now though, as I serve the last person and step into the corridor with him, pressing the button to close the door behind me so we’re on our own in the cramped little space, he looks up and smiles. My heart melts.
“Morning,” he greets cheerfully, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his prepurchased ticket.
I step forward, my eyes latched firmly on his face as I gently push the ticket out of the way and press myself against him, feeling every inch of his hard body against mine, not even caring that people could see us if they craned their necks and looked through the glass on the partition door. Jared’s body stiffens as his eyes meet mine, and he sucks in a ragged breath through his teeth.
“You look so perfectly fuckable.” My words echo the ones he growled at me that very first night.
His lips part, and I see his eyes widen fractionally before I quickly lean in and kiss him hard. He doesn’t react immediately; instead, he seems a little taken aback as his hands find my waist and hold me still. My hand goes up to the back of his head as I kiss him again, moaning in the back of my throat.
When I pull back, one of his eyebrows rises, and his whole posture screams shock. I grin. He probably didn’t expect me to be so forceful at my workplace; Jared is extremely professional like that.
“Whoa,” he mumbles, his eyes flicking down to my lips again before coming back up to my eyes.
His tongue traces his bottom lip, and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
When my walkie-talkie crackles to life, announcing that there are two minutes until the final stop, I tilt my head towards his, my lips brushing his teasingly as I speak, “I’ve only got two minutes. You’d better make them count.”
This time, when I kiss him, he responds, immediately kissing me back, pulling me closer to him as his teeth nip at my bottom lip. When his tongue strokes mine, I taste coffee and toothpaste. I moan into his mouth as his hand slides down my back and settles on my rear, squeezing gently as I step between his legs. My thighs brush against his in a delightful way that reminds me of how he holds me at night—one leg thrown over me, trapping me against him in a warm, delectable Jared sandwich. Things are getting hot as my skin flushes with pleasure, and my hands slide up his chest and inside his jacket, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt.
“Amy?”
“Amy, are you there?”
“Amy!”
I blink, the spell broken as I pull back from the kiss and open my eyes, coming back to reality as I realise my walkie-talkie is screaming at me. I gasp, noticing the train is literally coming to a stop at its final destination. My eyes widen in horror.
“Shit!” I gasp, wrenching myself from Jared’s arms. “I have to go.”
I turn and jab at the button on the carriage door, seeing people are out of their seats already, bundled around the exit doors, fingers poised over the Open Door button—unknowing that they won’t open because I’m at the wrong end of the train, making out with my boyfriend, instead of being where I should be, ready to press the Lock Release button.
“Wait!” Jared calls behind me.
I wave dismissively over my shoulder, already rushing through the carriage. “I’ll speak to you later!” I call back, fighting to get through the crowds.
I apologise over and over as people struggle to allow space to let me pass. I groan inwardly and continue to fight my way through the sea of people who are now complaining that the doors won’t open.
When I finally make it to the other end of the train, my fingers fumble on the keypad, struggling to input the code to gain access to the staff area because my fingers are trembling a little. When I finally fall into the room, I slam my hand down on the release and breathe a sigh of relief as a little cheer goes up behind me, and people stream out of the train in their droves.