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Sequel: The Taste of Chocolate ›
Train
You
“What does love mean to you?”
I stared at S and he stared right back, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips but besides that, he looked like he was actually fishing for a legitimate answer. I wasn’t exactly sure how to reply to him, seeing as I had never been in love before and the only love I had ever felt at all was for my closest friends and my family.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t even dated anyone so I can’t say I’d be able to give you an informed answer. Why do you ask?”
He sat back, clearing his throat. “Everyone makes such a big deal out of finding their soul mate but do we even really know who it is? I don’t believe in the whole love-at-first-sight theory because friends can fall in love over time, opposites attract; there are just endless possibilities to find the person you’re supposed to be with. They could be sitting right across from you and you wouldn’t even know.”
I cocked a brow. “Are you insinuating something?”
He laughed lightly. “Not at all. I’m just saying.”
I nodded. “Well I agree with you. See, everybody thinks they know me but the truth is,” I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table, “I’m a closet romantic. I’m actually hopeless when it comes to love but it bugs me when people say things like ‘oh my God, I’m in love’ after dating someone for one week. That’s not love—maybe infatuation or curiosity but not true love.”
“Good point.”
“And you could hate someone for five billion years of your life but that doesn’t mean you will wake up the next morning still hating them. You could be in love with them even if it’s just subconsciously. Fact is, there’s no way to tell who your soul mate is or when you’ll meet them because really, he or she doesn’t even exist. There are just people that are better suited than others, but that doesn’t automatically make them your soul mate. You could be made for two different people at once but the person that you know in your heart is the one you want to be with, will be the one you end up with.”
S smiled, clearly stunned and impressed at the same time. “For someone who has never had a boyfriend, you sure as hell seem to know a lot about love.”
“I read a lot.”
He laughed and pressed his hands to his thighs. “Hopeless romantic is right.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What do you think of love?”
“Well I’m single as well,” he said with a shrug. “If I wasn’t, I’m sure I could have a bit more light to shed on the topic but all I can say is, when I’m in love with someone or when I run into a person where I think there’s potential for something to happen, then I’m going to go for it. And if it’s not meant to be, who cares?” he asked rhetorically. “You need to make a few wrong turns to get to the right place. It’s common knowledge.”
I nodded. “Simplistic, but realistic.”
He pointed his finger at me. “Exactly.”
“So it’s kind of like a first kiss scenario,” I said. S tilted his head to the side out of confusion. “Well, most people that get their first kiss don’t end up with the person and then go into an emotional shame spiral of ‘oh, I gave them everything. What am I going to do with my life now that they’re gone?’ and immediately regret their first kiss. They make it out to be a bigger deal than it is.”
He shook his head slowly, beginning to understand. “Okay.”
“But is it really something to regret? It’s a story to tell and really, that mistake led you to your next person, who could be the most important thing in your life,” I explained. “I just don’t get why people even bother to regret things of the past. If it directs you to something better, why would you want to change it? It would just take you somewhere else.”
“I think you’re spot on,” he agreed. “Are you one of those people that regret their first kiss?”
“Kind of have to have one to regret it,” I said with a tiny smirk.
“Ah.” S laughed whole-heartedly. “Do you have anything to regret?”
“Nope,” I said. “If I did and wished to go back and change it, who knows where I’d end up. I probably wouldn’t even be on this train.”
S grinned. “I doubt anything you regret would make that big of a change.”
“Well . . .” I shrugged a shoulder, picking up my glass of water. “That’s the mystery of it all, isn’t it?”
“Life’s full of mysteries.”
“So are you.”
S just looked at me for a few moments before turning to watch the trees pass by us in a blurry haze. “How long have we been on the train?” he asked, and I looked at my watch.
“Almost seven hours,” I replied, a little surprised that time had flown by so fast. I hadn’t even realized how long S and I had been talking to each other until I actually looked at what time it was. And now that I knew, it felt way too short.
The conductor came over the speakers and announced that we would be arriving at the station earlier than planned because the weather had cleared up and the tracks were relatively easy to travel on. It was only going to be about ten minutes before I climbed off the train, joined my family and said goodbye to S, most likely for the last time. And the thought of it was actually deeply upsetting because even though he knew a lot about me but refused to give me his name, he was important to me. And it was kind of hard to believe that a stranger—someone who I really didn’t know all that well—had secured some place in my heart but he did. That was what was miraculous; I cared.
S didn’t speak for those ten minutes.
When the train slowed down to a stop at the station and everyone stood up to get their bags, I stayed in my seat. I waited until a few people had gotten off the train before stepping into the now relatively-clear aisle and reaching up to grab my bag. S was at my side almost immediately, grabbing both his and my bag, and handing it to me. I said a quick thank you and pulled my jacket on, doing up the buttons and walking off with S.
S hit the pavement first and he turned around to offer me his hand. I took it gratefully and stepped off the train, both of us going to the back to grab our suitcases. S only had a very tiny one, most likely packed for his constant travel so it only had the things he really needed. It almost pained me to think that he wouldn’t be able to be with someone for Christmas time. “So,” S said when I had collected the rest of my things and walked through the train station to try and find my family. I looked at him and saw him smile. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, nodding earnestly. “But I had fun. It was really nice to meet you.” I held out my hand for him to shake but he just laughed and took it with the hand that would only be used if you were going to hold someone’s hand like a couple would. And that was exactly what he did. He gave me a little tug forward so that our chests almost collided. Then he put his bag down and took mine out of my hand, leaving that on the ground as well. S’s other hand came up and he pushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear and dipping his head. His lips hit mine in a gentle, passionate kiss that I had only read about in books or seen in the movies. It really had me thinking how perfect of a goodbye it really was. His arms wrapped around my waist while mine just hung lifelessly at my sides because I was still so surprised, but since I also didn’t have experience in the kissing area, it was probably wise not to do anything anyway.
S pulled away then and grinned at my shock-ridden face, before bending down to pick up his bag. “Merry Christmas, Shayne Dawson.”
I opened my mouth to say something else but he had already spun around and began walking to his next destination. And from behind me, I heard the voices of my mother and father, and younger siblings so when I turned around to face them, they were all running up to me and greeting me with hugs and kisses, understandably oblivious to what had just happened with S. I had to look back at him; the need to was uncontrollable. So I as my family and I headed for the car, I glanced over my shoulder quickly, wishing desperately that I would be able to see him.
But he was already gone.
“Can you reach or do you need a stool?” my dad asked me as I went up onto my tippy-toes to reach the top of the Christmas tree. I had been given the responsibility of putting the star on top but when I nearly toppled over and sent the entire thing to the ground, it was clear I was going to need some assistance. So now I was kneeling on the couch arm, trying to reach from a distance at approximately the same height, just hoping that I wouldn’t make the tree fall through the front window. I shot my dad a glare and he grinned.
“Get down here, kiddo. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said, putting a hand on my back.
“I can do it,” I said, lifting myself a bit and finally reaching the top. I put the star down on the branch sticking up and climbed off the couch, clapping my hands in satisfaction. “What do you think of that?” I said in my dad’s face.
He crossed his arms and squinted at the tree. “Looks lopsided,” he said. “You’ll have to do it again.” I elbowed him in the stomach and he grunted.
“That’s not cool.”
“I’m kidding. It looks fine,” he said. “You did good, kid.”
I grinned and walked passed him into the kitchen to help my mom finish off cooking Christmas dinner. It had taken two days to get all of my things unpacked, make phone calls to friends and organize times to get together or reassure them that I had made it home safely and then ease the stress that my siblings, Darrin and Ellie had felt because they knew I was strapped for cash and were worried they weren’t going to receive Christmas presents from me this year. And now it was Christmas Eve, and an hour later my family and I were curled up under a giant blanket in front of the fireplace, eating our dinner on the floor and watching “It’s A Wonderful Life”.
The doorbell rang around eight and I stood up, announcing I would get it because everyone else was just too lazy or too fixated on the television to care. And when I opened the door, my eyes widened within milliseconds because of how shocked I was. S was standing right in front of me in his leather jacket and red mittens, snowflakes coating his hair. And even though he looked to be freezing cold and bitterly tired from dragging his suitcase and carry-on bag all the way to my house from the train station, he had a big smile on his face and his eyes were lit up with all the Christmas spirit anyone could ever have.
“Hey stranger,” I said, and nearly snickered at how accurate it was. “What are you doing here?”
“I was thinking about what you said,” he replied, lifting his shoulders, “How you said you could really know me eventually? Well I also told you that if I know I’ve met someone important in my life, I shouldn’t give up on them. And well . . . I’m not exactly prepared to give up on you just yet.”
I smirked. “Sounds like you’re a closet romantic like I am.”
“Maybe,” he laughed.
“How did you find me?”
“When I gave you your bag, that little tag hanging off of it that you had in case it got lost had your address on it,” he explained. “Plus, it’s like you said; when you know someone’s name it’s a lot easier to find things out about them than it is to have information about someone but not know their name. I’m just thankful the train station had a phonebook handy when I really needed it.”
I chuckled. “So would you like to come in?”
“Unless I’m not welcome,” he said, shivering.
“Of course you’re welcome. My parents wouldn’t make you stay outside in the cold on Christmas Eve,” I said and was suddenly surprised with an impromptu kiss on the cheek. I blinked up at S, then smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands went to my hips and he grinned, pressing his lips against mine. My heart melted and my knees went weak. Seven days ago, I didn’t know a single thing about the stranger standing in front of me and now here I was, kissing the most desired boy out of my entire University. That thought alone had my skin heating up and my head forgetting about the snow.
“Hey,” I said, leaning my forehead against his when we had separated again. “What’s your name?”
He smiled. “Eric Miller.”
“Hot,” I said, earning a laugh. “Come inside. You can stay in the guest bedroom.” I pulled away and grabbed his suitcase but Eric took my hand and dragged me back to him.
“Thank you. And I just want you to know . . .” He cleared his throat as if he was preparing himself for something. “To me, timing doesn’t mean anything. I could have met you five years ago but that would have changed everything so I’m glad I met you on that train and got to know you in seven hours.”
I beamed up at him. “I’m glad I met you there too.”
“And if I could be anywhere in the world right now,” he added, his lips hovering right in front of mine, “I would still want to be right here with you.”
I stared at S and he stared right back, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips but besides that, he looked like he was actually fishing for a legitimate answer. I wasn’t exactly sure how to reply to him, seeing as I had never been in love before and the only love I had ever felt at all was for my closest friends and my family.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t even dated anyone so I can’t say I’d be able to give you an informed answer. Why do you ask?”
He sat back, clearing his throat. “Everyone makes such a big deal out of finding their soul mate but do we even really know who it is? I don’t believe in the whole love-at-first-sight theory because friends can fall in love over time, opposites attract; there are just endless possibilities to find the person you’re supposed to be with. They could be sitting right across from you and you wouldn’t even know.”
I cocked a brow. “Are you insinuating something?”
He laughed lightly. “Not at all. I’m just saying.”
I nodded. “Well I agree with you. See, everybody thinks they know me but the truth is,” I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table, “I’m a closet romantic. I’m actually hopeless when it comes to love but it bugs me when people say things like ‘oh my God, I’m in love’ after dating someone for one week. That’s not love—maybe infatuation or curiosity but not true love.”
“Good point.”
“And you could hate someone for five billion years of your life but that doesn’t mean you will wake up the next morning still hating them. You could be in love with them even if it’s just subconsciously. Fact is, there’s no way to tell who your soul mate is or when you’ll meet them because really, he or she doesn’t even exist. There are just people that are better suited than others, but that doesn’t automatically make them your soul mate. You could be made for two different people at once but the person that you know in your heart is the one you want to be with, will be the one you end up with.”
S smiled, clearly stunned and impressed at the same time. “For someone who has never had a boyfriend, you sure as hell seem to know a lot about love.”
“I read a lot.”
He laughed and pressed his hands to his thighs. “Hopeless romantic is right.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What do you think of love?”
“Well I’m single as well,” he said with a shrug. “If I wasn’t, I’m sure I could have a bit more light to shed on the topic but all I can say is, when I’m in love with someone or when I run into a person where I think there’s potential for something to happen, then I’m going to go for it. And if it’s not meant to be, who cares?” he asked rhetorically. “You need to make a few wrong turns to get to the right place. It’s common knowledge.”
I nodded. “Simplistic, but realistic.”
He pointed his finger at me. “Exactly.”
“So it’s kind of like a first kiss scenario,” I said. S tilted his head to the side out of confusion. “Well, most people that get their first kiss don’t end up with the person and then go into an emotional shame spiral of ‘oh, I gave them everything. What am I going to do with my life now that they’re gone?’ and immediately regret their first kiss. They make it out to be a bigger deal than it is.”
He shook his head slowly, beginning to understand. “Okay.”
“But is it really something to regret? It’s a story to tell and really, that mistake led you to your next person, who could be the most important thing in your life,” I explained. “I just don’t get why people even bother to regret things of the past. If it directs you to something better, why would you want to change it? It would just take you somewhere else.”
“I think you’re spot on,” he agreed. “Are you one of those people that regret their first kiss?”
“Kind of have to have one to regret it,” I said with a tiny smirk.
“Ah.” S laughed whole-heartedly. “Do you have anything to regret?”
“Nope,” I said. “If I did and wished to go back and change it, who knows where I’d end up. I probably wouldn’t even be on this train.”
S grinned. “I doubt anything you regret would make that big of a change.”
“Well . . .” I shrugged a shoulder, picking up my glass of water. “That’s the mystery of it all, isn’t it?”
“Life’s full of mysteries.”
“So are you.”
S just looked at me for a few moments before turning to watch the trees pass by us in a blurry haze. “How long have we been on the train?” he asked, and I looked at my watch.
“Almost seven hours,” I replied, a little surprised that time had flown by so fast. I hadn’t even realized how long S and I had been talking to each other until I actually looked at what time it was. And now that I knew, it felt way too short.
The conductor came over the speakers and announced that we would be arriving at the station earlier than planned because the weather had cleared up and the tracks were relatively easy to travel on. It was only going to be about ten minutes before I climbed off the train, joined my family and said goodbye to S, most likely for the last time. And the thought of it was actually deeply upsetting because even though he knew a lot about me but refused to give me his name, he was important to me. And it was kind of hard to believe that a stranger—someone who I really didn’t know all that well—had secured some place in my heart but he did. That was what was miraculous; I cared.
S didn’t speak for those ten minutes.
When the train slowed down to a stop at the station and everyone stood up to get their bags, I stayed in my seat. I waited until a few people had gotten off the train before stepping into the now relatively-clear aisle and reaching up to grab my bag. S was at my side almost immediately, grabbing both his and my bag, and handing it to me. I said a quick thank you and pulled my jacket on, doing up the buttons and walking off with S.
S hit the pavement first and he turned around to offer me his hand. I took it gratefully and stepped off the train, both of us going to the back to grab our suitcases. S only had a very tiny one, most likely packed for his constant travel so it only had the things he really needed. It almost pained me to think that he wouldn’t be able to be with someone for Christmas time. “So,” S said when I had collected the rest of my things and walked through the train station to try and find my family. I looked at him and saw him smile. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, nodding earnestly. “But I had fun. It was really nice to meet you.” I held out my hand for him to shake but he just laughed and took it with the hand that would only be used if you were going to hold someone’s hand like a couple would. And that was exactly what he did. He gave me a little tug forward so that our chests almost collided. Then he put his bag down and took mine out of my hand, leaving that on the ground as well. S’s other hand came up and he pushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear and dipping his head. His lips hit mine in a gentle, passionate kiss that I had only read about in books or seen in the movies. It really had me thinking how perfect of a goodbye it really was. His arms wrapped around my waist while mine just hung lifelessly at my sides because I was still so surprised, but since I also didn’t have experience in the kissing area, it was probably wise not to do anything anyway.
S pulled away then and grinned at my shock-ridden face, before bending down to pick up his bag. “Merry Christmas, Shayne Dawson.”
I opened my mouth to say something else but he had already spun around and began walking to his next destination. And from behind me, I heard the voices of my mother and father, and younger siblings so when I turned around to face them, they were all running up to me and greeting me with hugs and kisses, understandably oblivious to what had just happened with S. I had to look back at him; the need to was uncontrollable. So I as my family and I headed for the car, I glanced over my shoulder quickly, wishing desperately that I would be able to see him.
But he was already gone.
~ * ~ * ~
“Can you reach or do you need a stool?” my dad asked me as I went up onto my tippy-toes to reach the top of the Christmas tree. I had been given the responsibility of putting the star on top but when I nearly toppled over and sent the entire thing to the ground, it was clear I was going to need some assistance. So now I was kneeling on the couch arm, trying to reach from a distance at approximately the same height, just hoping that I wouldn’t make the tree fall through the front window. I shot my dad a glare and he grinned.
“Get down here, kiddo. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said, putting a hand on my back.
“I can do it,” I said, lifting myself a bit and finally reaching the top. I put the star down on the branch sticking up and climbed off the couch, clapping my hands in satisfaction. “What do you think of that?” I said in my dad’s face.
He crossed his arms and squinted at the tree. “Looks lopsided,” he said. “You’ll have to do it again.” I elbowed him in the stomach and he grunted.
“That’s not cool.”
“I’m kidding. It looks fine,” he said. “You did good, kid.”
I grinned and walked passed him into the kitchen to help my mom finish off cooking Christmas dinner. It had taken two days to get all of my things unpacked, make phone calls to friends and organize times to get together or reassure them that I had made it home safely and then ease the stress that my siblings, Darrin and Ellie had felt because they knew I was strapped for cash and were worried they weren’t going to receive Christmas presents from me this year. And now it was Christmas Eve, and an hour later my family and I were curled up under a giant blanket in front of the fireplace, eating our dinner on the floor and watching “It’s A Wonderful Life”.
The doorbell rang around eight and I stood up, announcing I would get it because everyone else was just too lazy or too fixated on the television to care. And when I opened the door, my eyes widened within milliseconds because of how shocked I was. S was standing right in front of me in his leather jacket and red mittens, snowflakes coating his hair. And even though he looked to be freezing cold and bitterly tired from dragging his suitcase and carry-on bag all the way to my house from the train station, he had a big smile on his face and his eyes were lit up with all the Christmas spirit anyone could ever have.
“Hey stranger,” I said, and nearly snickered at how accurate it was. “What are you doing here?”
“I was thinking about what you said,” he replied, lifting his shoulders, “How you said you could really know me eventually? Well I also told you that if I know I’ve met someone important in my life, I shouldn’t give up on them. And well . . . I’m not exactly prepared to give up on you just yet.”
I smirked. “Sounds like you’re a closet romantic like I am.”
“Maybe,” he laughed.
“How did you find me?”
“When I gave you your bag, that little tag hanging off of it that you had in case it got lost had your address on it,” he explained. “Plus, it’s like you said; when you know someone’s name it’s a lot easier to find things out about them than it is to have information about someone but not know their name. I’m just thankful the train station had a phonebook handy when I really needed it.”
I chuckled. “So would you like to come in?”
“Unless I’m not welcome,” he said, shivering.
“Of course you’re welcome. My parents wouldn’t make you stay outside in the cold on Christmas Eve,” I said and was suddenly surprised with an impromptu kiss on the cheek. I blinked up at S, then smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands went to my hips and he grinned, pressing his lips against mine. My heart melted and my knees went weak. Seven days ago, I didn’t know a single thing about the stranger standing in front of me and now here I was, kissing the most desired boy out of my entire University. That thought alone had my skin heating up and my head forgetting about the snow.
“Hey,” I said, leaning my forehead against his when we had separated again. “What’s your name?”
He smiled. “Eric Miller.”
“Hot,” I said, earning a laugh. “Come inside. You can stay in the guest bedroom.” I pulled away and grabbed his suitcase but Eric took my hand and dragged me back to him.
“Thank you. And I just want you to know . . .” He cleared his throat as if he was preparing himself for something. “To me, timing doesn’t mean anything. I could have met you five years ago but that would have changed everything so I’m glad I met you on that train and got to know you in seven hours.”
I beamed up at him. “I’m glad I met you there too.”
“And if I could be anywhere in the world right now,” he added, his lips hovering right in front of mine, “I would still want to be right here with you.”