You and I.

I quickly slid into the train as the doors began to shut. The train wasn’t exactly full, but there were still lots of people on it. I slid into a booth, pulled out my iPod and shoved my headphones on. I was on the way to London for another pointless meeting about something.

After finding a song I looked up. A surge of disappointment surged through me. She wasn’t here. I looked out the window in disappointment and saw her reflection in it. I whizzed around to see her in the isle opposite, facing me but looking out of her window.

I could feel my face burning up at the sight of her. Again. This happened every day. We got the same train most days and while she sat there in all her gorgeous-ness, I just there crumbling. She was like nothing I had even seen before.

Her golden blond hair cascaded down past her shoulders and her big, blue eyes shone brightly. But the thing I found most attractive about her was the face she looked like a real girl. She wasn’t a stick; she had curves and wouldn’t crumble if I poked her.

Not that I would ever have the courage to poke her. If the mere sight of her made me hyperventilate then I have no idea what would happen if it went any further.

Truth be told ive never been good with the ladies. Everyone thinks im gay, but im not, I just have no idea what do when girls are around. When I do eventually get talking to one, I always make a prat out of myself. Always.

But this girl was different. She made me feel different. It was new and it was scary. I didn’t know one thing about her but she made me feel amazing. Just being near her made me feel on top of the world. I think that’s what scared me the most about her. I felt so alive at just the thought of her, like she had some hold over me.

I was in a position where I could look at her and she wouldn’t be able to catch me staring at her. The things I like most about her are all the little things she does and they way she does them. I sound like such a sap, but when im near her, I couldn’t care less.

I loved the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, revelling the little butterfly tattoo there. I loved the way she ran her fingers through her hair and the way, every morning she had a coffee with her and the way she dug into her bag and smothered her lips in lip balm. I loved the way she drummed her fingers on the table in time with whatever music she was listening too.

Usually you can hear what people are listening to if you listen hard enough. But not her, and there was an itch under my skin, wanting to know what she was listening to. What her favourite band was, why they were, her favourite songs. The songs that made her laugh, the ones that made her cry, the ones she could relate to.

I wanted to know everything about her. No detail spared. What made her happy, what made her tick, what her favourite colour was, her favourite food, her favourite drink.

We both got off at the same stop everyday and today was no different. I stood up and moved towards the doors. I looked up and she was waiting to get out, so I let her go.

She smiled at me and said “thank you”. I thought my heart had stopped beating. But then I could feel it again, beating as strong as ever, so strong infact I thought it might escape from my chest. I took deep breaths just to calm myself, but inside I was freaking out.

She knows I exist. She spoke to me. She said thank you. She was only being polite, but still, she spoke to me.

I followed her silently off the train, watching the way she walked. The way her hips moved and how her arms swung by her sides. With one last glance after her, I trudged to the meeting.