Oh wow! I had work for two days straight and I didn't check my e-mail. I come back and then there are all of your responses! It means a lot, it really does. And I planned to make this a multi part thing. I really do love New York.
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He loves the subway. It's probably his favorite part of the city. He loves sitting and leaning his head back against the rumbling metal, his eyes drifting shut at the sounds of the city.
It's a symphony of idle chatter, the rush of metal against metal, a few random strums on a guitar, and announcements on the loud speaker (always obnoxious). It's a dance of people, moving together, apart, around one another.
He takes his seat as the car lurches forward, a few people stumbling with unsteady footwork. He smirks slightly and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and folding his hands in his lap.
The car makes an abrupt stop at the next station and he feels the shift of the entire car. The people moving off and the people moving on collide and wind around each other in a rhythmic dance. He remains in his seat, watching as a few realign themselves, gripping the handles above their heads.
The man standing in front of him shifts slightly to the left and he catches a glimpse of brunette and clear blue and he thinks maybe, just maybe, his heart has stopped beating for a fraction of a second. The man moves back to his former position and Jess cranes his neck to the side, looking around the navy blue suit and black briefcase.
She is sitting with her eyes closed, head tilted back, listening to the symphony of idle chatter, the rush of metal against metal, a few random strums on a guitar, and announcements on the loud speaker.
He smiles and leans back, crossing his legs at the ankles, causing the man with the briefcase to glance at him in annoyance at the intrusion of precious space. Jess just shrugs in nonchalance and the man lets out an aggravated sigh, moving down the car to find a more suitable space.
When Jess looks back at her face her eyes are open and she is looking right at him, almost as if she sensed him there, or at least he likes to think that. She has got a small smile and he knows (well, knew) her well enough to know that she's trying not to grin.
"We've got to stop meeting like this." She says calmly and her voice is warm, washing over him in the highly industrial setting.
He lets out a small chuckle and it comes out more like a ragged cough. His emotions always were amplified around her.
She tilts her head slightly to the side and gives him a pensive look. He keeps eye contact with her, surprised that she doesn't abruptly look away (she isn't the girl she was).
"How is the orange?" He offers and her cheeks taint pink and she looks down putting a hand over her eyes (some things never do change) letting out a small chuckle.
She looks back up and her eyes are glowing. "The orange is fine."
He smiles at her and hers slowly fades away. He gets worried and he wonders if he has done something wrong. Her eyes still smile but her face says something different, the way her lips turn down slightly, the tightness in her forehead.
"What?" He asks slowly.
A smile grows on her face. "I've never seen you smile like that."
He looks at her with a blank expression as the car comes to an abrupt stop and she stands up. She adjusts the strap over her shoulder with a petite hand and looks down at him, swiping her bangs out of her face with her free hand.
She smiles again. "It's nice."
And then she is gone, disappearing into the dance, her amber hair swinging behind her.
He leans back against the wall of the subway car again, letting out a small sigh, crossing his legs at the ankles, folding his hands in his lap. He closes his eyes and smiles, just the way she likes it.