(Do Not Read Back Up Copy)

Chapter II

Hailey

“Now departing, southbound train 594 to Virginia Beach. All aboard!”

When you’re in a hurry, especially if that hurry has anything to do with you shooting someone, you don’t pay attention to much. Point A, point B, simple. But getting to where you’re going can get a little tricky if you’re clumsy or unobservant.

I’m both of those things, so you can guess what my odds were like. I mean, I could handle things like morning traffic, bulky suitcases, and getting down steep flights of stairs without too many problems. I go to Union to visit my Mom around this time every summer, so, I’m used to the landscape. But broken glass bottles are a different story. Especially if they’re clear, and this one was invisible—to me, at least.

 There I was, no more than about five steps away from my train, and completely stoked that I’d actually made it on time, and just like that, I impaled myself.

 Sharp-object-right-through-the-arc-of-your-foot impaled.

The pain sent me reeling, and I barreled face first down onto the grimy glittering concrete.

“Hold the train!”

The voice of an unfortunately placed hero buzzed through the sides of my cheekbones. Apparently, I’d face planted into the center of his chest and used his sternum to cushion my fall. Nice.

“You alright?” he asked, clearly amused by my lack of coordination.

I lifted my head out of the crater I’d made in his shirt and adjusted my glasses to try to get the guy’s face into focus. He was the modern image of a boyish, brunette James Dean; cheeks tinged with natural blush, slightly grey baby blues, and a sense of style reminiscent of East of Eden.

“I’m fine. I just lost-”

“Your shoes or your senses?”

He helped me to my feet, and tried to hide an obvious half-smile, but his dimples gave him away. His arrogance was bittersweet, one part irritating, three parts attractive, so I let it slide.

I mean I’d like to say that I let it slide ‘cause it makes it look like I had the situation under control. But the truth is, I couldn’t talk to him for a good minute and a half. I couldn’t even look at him straight. I’d never admit this on any other occasion, but this was the first time a guy actually intimidated me a response out of me. I tried gathering my bags and re-boarding the train like I hadn’t fallen at all. Maybe he’d forget it happened.

“Thank you-“

“Caleb.”

He shot me a glance the devil would envy, and my legs went numb. I dodged his stormy blues, and took up a staring contest with the floor. Checkmate.

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s Hailey.”

“Have you always been the shy and clumsy type, Hailey?”

My face caught fire, and he grinned a mile wide.

“No, I’m just uncomfortable around strange people.“

“That’s one way to mutually end a conversation.”  

“I’m sorry, it’s just if I keep talking to you I'm gonna miss—“

And that’s when my train left.

Apparently, Amtrak didn’t care that I’d nearly killed myself trying to board; they just chugged their merry way out of the station. Perfect.

 “Son of a beach ball!”

I didn’t realize how loud I’d shouted until three or four passer-bys made a point to stare at me. Stares I don’t really mind but, getting laughed at bothers me, and Caleb couldn’t seem to stop himself. My cheeks lit up like an electric stove.