Man Crush Monday

Chapter 1

I grip the handrail and lean out, scanning the platform. More hurried people jump on the train, and I anxiously scrutinise the crowd, looking for him. My eyes flick to the platform clock—8:07 a.m. The train is to depart at 8:09 sharp. He's cutting it close today.

A ball of disappointment settles in my chest when I realise with a jolt that he's not coming today.

Bugger.

I'm on holiday from the weekend, two blissful weeks of lie-ins and late nights. I prepared myself to not see my crush while I was off, but because he only boards the train every other week, if he doesn't turn up today, it will be pushing four weeks that I won't clap eyes on him. This is a disaster. It's 8:07 a.m., and my day is officially ruined.

As if my thinking about him makes him appear, he bursts through the ticket barrier at the end and runs, newspaper tucked under his arm, briefcase thumping wildly against his leg as he pelts towards the train. He looks up, his eyes meet mine, and he raises a hand in greeting—or maybe it's not a greeting; perhaps it's a don't leave without me gesture, but I take it the other way. Small wins.

I smile and playfully roll my eyes, and he grins the cutest smile ever and climbs on board at the other end of the long train just as my walkie crackles to life with instructions.

I sigh happily, my disappointment dispersed.

Day officially unruined.

Once the train is safely on the move, I set about the other part of my job—ticket-collecting. I start at the front and work my way to the back—to him. The job is old hat now; I could do it in my sleep. When I first started, the motion of the train made me feel nauseous, and I'd wobble on my feet, almost falling over passengers' bags they'd carelessly left in the aisles. Not anymore though. I'm like a ballerina, traipsing down the carriage like a swan gliding on water. Practice makes perfect.

I greet the passengers with my usual cheery smile, a little bit of chitchat to the regulars, and a few snippets of information about London for the obvious tourists.

When I step into the last carriage, I see he's chosen a seat facing front at the far end. I chew on my lip, absentmindedly selling another ticket as I discreetly let my eyes glide over him. He's chatting to an older guy next to him, and I see he's already given away his newspaper. I smile to myself and hand a young teenage couple their change before moving on to the next passenger. The old guy seated next to him laughs at something, and I smile inwardly. My crush is one of those people you could drop into a room full of strangers, and within ten minutes, they'd be ordering a sharing platter, and he would be in their wedding.

The light slants in from the window, bouncing off his hair in a way that makes my fingers itch to reach out and run a hand through it. I bet it's soft, like silk. He shrugs and takes a gulp of the disgusting train tea he purchased from the refreshments cart. I watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

Jeez, that throat! I would be perfectly content to do nothing other than run my tongue down that throat all day.

My greedy eyes drag over the rest of him. Today is a shirt-and-tie week. His grey suit is paired with a white shirt and blue-striped tie; it's stylish and hot as sin. Last time, he was distinctly more casual—a well-worn grey Goonies Never Say Die T-shirt under a fitted blue suit, and I swear it almost made me come. In fact, I did come later when I was alone and thinking about it.

I sigh as a wave of longing washes over me. Why does he have to be so cute and so damn perfect for me?

I'm done, and he's not even looked up at me yet.