Prologue
Between people going to Salem and the Bruins game, North Station was a madhouse.
It didn't help that I was laden down with a small rolling suitcase, a messenger bag, an oversized purse, and a backpack. It had only been a four-day business trip and as usual, I had packed way too much stuff.
I worked as a Human Resources Representative for a financial consulting firm in Boston. I had been in New Hampshire for four days, working various job fairs across the southern half of the state. For four days I had been plugging my company's message, collecting resumes, sightseeing the fall foliage, and driving way too fast in my beautiful rental car.
But now I was back home in my beloved Boston. My rental car had been returned, leaving me to get around via the MBTA system. And boy what a mess it was getting home. North Station was usually pretty crowded, but this was so much worse because my impeccable timing had caught the Bruins rush at exactly the right moment.
Oh, and it also didn't help that it was Halloween night.
Shouldering the messenger bag, filled with two pounds of resumes, I proceeded to wade my way through the sea of black and gold and Halloween costumes. There were so many tourists, looking lost, obviously trying to find their way to Salem for the night's Halloween festivities.
It was certainly fun getting myself and all of my bags through the gate onto the platform. I had no idea how I was going to get everything onto the T, which was likely to be very crowded. Uugh, all I wanted was to get home!
While I waited for the T that would take me home, I couldn't help but scan the crowds of costumers with amusement. I wasn't really into Halloween, but I did appreciate the people that went all-out on their costumes for the holiday. This year the theme was clearly The Avengers. The incident with the aliens in New York hadn't happened that long ago, and people were in full Avengers fever. Even all this time later, I was having a hard time believing that any of that was real. I had been in Milwaukee at the time on another business trip. The shitshow in New York had canceled my flight and left me stranded there for four days. I ended up busing my way home. I had never believed in aliens until then, and even now I was still having a hard time believing that what had happened in New York was really a result of aliens.
However, everyone else seemed to fully believe that aliens were real, and that the Avengers were too.
Dotted here and there in the sea of black and gold were Captain Americas, children in Iron Man masks and Thor hammers, girls dressed as very skimpy Black Widows, and even one shirtless college-aged guy with green body paint. There were other costumes of course, but the Avengers costumers certainly stuck out the most.
Uh oh, wait. There's someone in a Montreal jersey in here. He sticks out even more than the Avengers people, and not in a good way. He's being super obnoxious too by making jeers at random people. He is also about to get beaten to a pulp by all these Bruins fans who are glaring at him.
Oh please just get me home.
Finally, I saw my T approaching. I shouldered my bag of resumes once again, relieved that my chance to get home had finally arrived. I pushed my way through a group of hesitant and lost-looking Bruins fans to the front of the platform, just behind the yellow line. I was going to be home soon, and I couldn't wait.
Then my smile faded when I realized, shit, that's one very full train.
There was no way I was getting on that train, not laden with all of the shit I was carrying. What the hell were all of these people going to that end of Boston for? Most of them were adults in costumes, so I figured they must have been going to the bars. A large number of them were in Avengers costumes, and there seemed to be an abnormally large number of Captain Americas on this train.
The train came to a squealing halt. I groaned. There was no way I was fitting on this train, but I figured I had to try. I used my bags as a battering ram and tried to force myself onto the overcrowded train. I pushed and shoved, and so did a number of other people around me. I needed to get on this train. I wanted to go home.
Despite my efforts, I was unable to get on. Resigning myself to defeat, I stepped back onto the platform and waited for the next train. It was going to be a few minutes, so I let my bag of resumes drop to the floor and leaned against one of the columns. I was absolutely exhausted. If the floor wasn't so disgusting, riddled with food wrappers and ages-old gum spots, I would have sat down on it to give my aching feet a rest. But that was not an option; so instead I leaned my weight against the column and let my eyes lazily wander around the station.
That's when I saw him.
If I hadn't been people watching, I probably wouldn't have noticed him. He blended so perfectly with everyone else. No one else seemed to notice him. But unfortunately I did. If I had been able to get on that last train, I never would have laid eyes on him. He never would have come into my life. I never would have seen his face or known his name.
Not getting on that train was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I'm still trying to figure out which it was.
The console buzzed loudly as the gate swung open for him. His movements were so smooth and graceful. His black suit and overcoat moved perfectly with his slim body as he walked through the gates. The cream and green scarf wrapped around his shoulders swayed slightly with his movements. He stood tall and proud, with his shoulders back and his chin held high. Everything about him screamed sophistication and class, and he reminded me greatly of a prince. I had never seen a prince before, but if I ever did, I imaged that he would look like this man.
It wasn't his kingly stature or his calm, smooth demeanor that had me staring. It was his face. His face made my knees feel weak, and if I weren't leaning against the column, I probably would have fallen over onto the disgusting floor. His high, pale cheekbones were well defined, and his thin lips were curled into a devilish smirk. His black hair was smoothed perfectly behind his head, and his pale complexion was smooth and perfect.
As he approached, I was able to see his eyes, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. His eyes were like two emeralds, and they shone in the pale fluorescent light above. His piercing gaze swept the station. He seemed to be looking for something, and seeing as how he wasn't looking down the tracks like everyone else, he wasn't looking for a train. His gaze swept near me, and I shuddered and felt sick to my stomach. For some reason, I didn't want him looking at me. Something in me stirred and screamed at me to stop staring at him in order to avoid drawing attention to myself. I didn't want him noticing me. I had no idea why, but suddenly every part of me was screaming to get as far away from him as I could.
Obeying my instincts, I turned my gaze away from him. I kept an eye on him out of the corner of my eye, making sure that he hadn't noticed me staring at him. It was all I could do to keep myself from staring, so I decided to pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at that.
Oh shit. He was coming over to my end of the platform. He wasn't looking at me, but he was definitely heading over this way. I looked longingly down the tracks, hoping desperately that my train would come soon. My heart was racing. Why? What was it about this man that made me want to both stare at him and run away from him? I stared desperately at my phone, hoping, praying, that I wouldn't be noticed.
Shit, he had his eyes on me. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him looking at me. I groaned and tapped my foot restlessly. The station was teeming with people, and quite a number of them were younger, more attractive college-aged girls in tiny costumes. No one else in here was looking at me. There were so damn many people everywhere that I didn't think anyone was paying particular attention to anyone, especially me. I was too normal, too modest, and too plain. I was still in my work clothes, and I was bundled up in my black fleece coat. I was the least conspicuous person here. Yet there he was, the most attractive man in all of North Station, and he was looking past all of the skanky girls to stare at me.
Come on, where the hell was my T? I heard the sound of the squealing breaks of a train and instinctively looked up. Shit, it wasn't my line. In the split second it took for my eyes to travel from the train and back to my phone, my eyes met his.
I still have dreams about the way he looked at me just then. His expression was a strange mix of curiosity, malice, and playfulness. He seemed to look down his nose at me, as if I were inferior, yet somehow I had his interests peaked. He smiled at me deviously, as if he were plotting something, and it made my heart race and my head feel fuzzy. It took me a few seconds for me to tear my eyes away from his, and they were the longest seconds of my life. I pretended like he didn't really bother me, like I didn't even really notice him. I played with my phone and pretended to look bored. But in reality I was screaming inside, and I could feel myself sweating profusely. If my T didn't come pronto I was going to lose it.
He moved closer to me until he was standing about a yard away. I felt sick to my stomach. Now would really be a good time for my T to show up.
Finally my train came bounding down the tracks. I didn't care how crowded this damn train was. I was getting on it, even if I had to kill someone for a spot. I gathered up my stuff, gritted my teeth, and prepared to fight my way onto that train.
When it came to a screeching halt, I began to shove. I was determined to get on this train, despite it being as crowded as the last one. I somehow succeeded in forcing myself onto the train, and holding my stuff as close to me as I could, I grabbed the handrails and prepared for a very uncomfortable ride. I sighed with relief when I heard the doors shut and felt the train jerk violently as it sped out of the station.
Being laden down with all of the bags wrapped around my shoulders, my grip onto the metal bar above was poor. When the train jerked into motion, my hand slipped, causing me to stumble. Everyone on the train was jammed shoulder to shoulder, so I didn't fall very far, nor did I fall onto the train floor. However, I did fall into someone, and I felt a pair of strong, cold hands catch me. They didn't hold me for very long, and once I was firmly back on my feet, they let me go.
"I'm so sorry!" I said instinctively, whipping around to face whoever had just stopped my fall. "I really am, I'm so sorry for-"
I choked mid-sentence. It was impossible. How did he get on this train? I didn't even see him get on, let alone get on right behind me. How did he follow me onto the T without me even noticing? My body began to tremble, and I felt dizzy and sick.
It was the man in the suit, with the brilliant emerald eyes and the hauntingly beautiful smile.
Standing directly next to him I was able to see just how much taller he was. I stood at only 5'5", and he must have been over 6'. His lips curled into a deviously playful smirk, and his eyes glinted with amusement. It was as if he was inwardly laughing at me.
After a few awkward seconds of staring at each other, I squeaked one last "sorry" and turned my back to him.
Nice job, Em, I thought to myself, you just fell onto the hottest, biggest creeper on this train. Nice job.
I could still feel him staring at me. His eyes were boring into me, and I knew that he was looking me over. It didn't help that with every jerk and turn of the train we bumped into each other (along with everyone else around us). It was the nature of standing on a train this crowded. However, every time he and I brushed against each other, I felt even sicker. I tried everything I could to keep my body away from his and to keep my eyes away from him.
"Next stop, Haymarket," the male mechanical voice announced over the intercom.
I was so tempted to get off here and catch the next train just to lose this guy. I didn't want to be near him anymore, and I certainly didn't want him seeing where I would eventually get off.
I stole a glance at him. He hadn't taken his eyes off me. A look of lecherous amusement spread across his features when he saw me looking at him, and immediately I whipped back around and looked away.
That's it. I made up my mind. I was getting off this fucking train now. I adjusted the messenger bag on my shoulder, adjusted my grip on the handle of my rolling suitcase, and prepared to race off of this train.
"Entering, Haymarket," the mechanical voice announced, "change here for the Orange Line."
My heart was pounding, and I had no idea why. I was even starting to tremble from the anticipation of finally getting off this train and getting away from this guy.
No sooner had that thought gone through my mind did I hear a soft whisper in my ear.
"Getting off so soon?" a smooth male voice whispered coolly into my ear. "I was just beginning to enjoy this."
Oh god he was talking to me. His voice was musical, and it purred so calmly as it whispered. It was strangely calming, but it had a hint of sharpness to it, like a cold blade that could rip through my flesh effortlessly. It gave me the creeps.
I pretended to ignore that little comment. The train slowed to a stop, but the doors weren't opening. We were stuck in traffic. There must have been another train in front of us that was holding us up. My breath turned ragged and shaky, and my hands grew cold and clammy with sweat. The longer we waited, the more agonizing being on this train became.
"Well well," the man purred in my ear, "this is certainly perfect timing."
"I'm getting off now," I squeaked, my voice shaking as much as the rest of me.
"But this isn't your stop," he replied. My heart nearly stopped. How the hell did he know that?
"Indulge me with your company a while longer," he continued.
My breath shook violently as it left my lungs.
The train inched forward, then jerked to a halt. I heard the doors open with a hydraulic whistle and a thud.
"Hurry if you want to get off," he whispered, "now's your chance. But do please reconsider."
My mind was screaming to get moving, to hurry off this train before the doors closed. The hustle and bustle of Haymarket station called to me, and I stared longingly at it. Yet somehow I was unable to move.
It was as if he had me under some sort of spell. I had every intention of getting off this train, but I was completely unable to make myself move. To my horror, the hydraulics whined and the doors closed with a thud.
Looks like I was stuck on this train with him for a little while longer.