Entwine (3 page)

But single life wasn’t for her, and Sarah wondered why her dad couldn’t have just kept it in his pants—maybe then she wouldn’t have turned into this person too independent to be a girlfriend, and too lonely to be single. She wanted a guy—just the right one.

At sixteen, she hadn’t been ready to have her perfect ideals shattered about her daddy. But they were, and every kiss and every guy seemed great but not good enough, as if she had made a secret pact with herself that she’d do better than her daddy was, and would find a man who connected with her perfectly.

She knew that the moment she laid eyes on the right guy, clichés aside, she’d be certain he was it.

DISCOVERY

NOW

Sarah finally pushed in her earphones and mouthed the lyrics to some music from her Favourites playlist. It was a mixed collection, but mostly the pop songs they played in clubs. She was finally a full-time editor, even if she was a junior one, she’d eyed off a gorgeous man who was also eyeing off her, and nothing short of an upbeat tune would do.

The smell of the man next to her, panting and sweating from obviously running to catch the train, didn’t matter. Nor did the fact she was standing for a one-hour train trip in heels. There was little that could matter to her right now—except for when the train suddenly stopped, and the driver announced a delay.

“We have stopped to attend to an ill passenger on board,” he said. “I don’t know how long the wait will be, but it could be up to forty-five minutes due to peak hour traffic and the patient’s condition. Thank you for your understanding.”

At that time, Sarah heard a deep, yet smooth voice say, “Lucky I don’t plan on being anywhere.”

She knew it was Him before she looked up to meet his eyes. Apart from the fact she was sure it came from somewhere in front of her, or thereabouts, a voice in her head associated it with the man she’d almost profiled to full detail.

Looking up, she saw his face and, for some reason, knowing what his voice sounded like was like tying up a little bow on top of her perfect package.

“It’s not like I have to be anywhere,” Sarah agreed.

For a moment, she matched his gaze, trying to stop from doing anything suggestive. She wanted to lick her lips as they were dry, and she was sure even a little grin would crack them. Only an hour ago she’d had gloss on them from her special first day at work, but now they felt dry and baron.

Oh, how with every moment she stood here, it got worse. Now her head was itchy. If only she could sneak up a fingernail to scratch. Just above and behind her ear. Just a bit. But Sarah couldn’t. Why was a stranger doing this to her?

Sarah held her place, gazing with as much power as he had. She wouldn’t lick her lips. Or scratch her head. And now she was a dry, twitching freak.

Stuff it
.

She turned a little, trying to hide her hand, and covered it by fussing with her hair near her ear, and licked away the cracked feeling from her lips. When she looked up, the man was shamelessly staring. She knew that look. There was no mistaking that, for some reason, he was as intrigued by her as she was him.

“Here,” the man said. He bent and dropped against the railing behind his back, his knees sticking out at the sides, and his huge legs separated in a way that made Sarah want to look away but couldn’t. “Sit here. Your feet must be sore.”

That made Sarah self-conscious, made her unable to move. Had he seen her shoes? Or looked up and down the length of her? The idea thrilled her, and a moment later she said, “Down there?”

He held out his hand then gestured next to him. “You’re facing at least an hour and a half standing in those shoes,” he said.

Again with the shoes. Sarah knew men who noticed shoes to be gay. And this was very, very bad for Sarah’s hopes and dreams.

Sarah purposefully dropped against the railing behind her back, hiding the view under her above-the-knee pencil skirt with her handbag. She didn’t mean to be so unintentionally provocative, especially if he did happen to be gay, but in that instant, no other eloquent methods of sitting down in a skirt of this length came to mind. Noticing there was space in front of her, to the man’s side, she slid her legs out, crossed at the feet just above her heels, and said, “How do you figure I have at least an hour and a half?”

The man didn’t answer at first. He didn’t quite grin, but his face wasn’t still, either. Sarah didn’t know what to make of his little quirks—so subtle, and so much more capable of seduction than any guy ever who’d hit on her.

He said, “Because I can tell you don’t live in the city. You look excited, new. You probably don’t have your own apartment near here. You don’t look like you’re from the middle suburbs, close-ish to the city if you drive. People like that have an air about the way they stand or sit or ‘cross their legs’.” Sarah noticed the emphasis there, but was unsure if it was a good or bad thing, as he continued. “So I bet you’re from further out, where many of the train passengers live. Out there, where there are estates and families, and an infinite possibility of who you are.”

“You say an awful lot to strangers.”

It was all Sarah could think of as she took stock of the details about this man. He had a killer jawline; he was dressed to make her imagination wild, even though his outfit was classy; his words made him appear deep and thoughtful.

She felt exposed, and re-crossed her legs the other way.
What does that say about me, huh?
Sarah thought.

“I’m approachable.”

“Are you a psychologist, too?”

“Nope.”

Sarah didn’t know why, but that “nope” instead of “no” or “I’m not” felt personal. As if they’d passed their not-so-secret game of stealing glances. Now he had moved on to friendly chitchat.

“What are you, then?”

“That tone certainly isn’t approachable, young lady.”

Sarah felt weird, suddenly. She’d wanted to know about him, his name, among those desired features, but had been too under his spell to realise she hadn’t, in fact, asked his name. Now that he’d referred to her, she hated that he’d said it, because it closed her opening to ask his name as casually as she could have before.

“You deflect.”

“Huh?”

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re deflecting, back to me.”

The man couldn’t deflect now. He took in her observation and gave a slight nod, impressed.

“So, then, are you a CEO? Accountant?”

“I’m actually none of the titles you’re about the rattle off.”

Sarah squeezed her arms tighter. The man didn’t hide his checking out of her boobs this time. She was glad. She was powerful. There wasn’t a thing he could do here, sitting across this carriage with people chatting, many using whiny tones, and the air felt thicker with all the stress bouncing off everyone.

“You’re also confident.”

“But not cocky.” He pursed his lips, knowing he’d stolen the thoughts from her mind.

“You’ll always be a mind reader to me.”

“Read my mind now,” he said.

She liked that tone, too. In the little time they’d spoken, she was starting to see he was aggressive when he wanted to, yet somehow he still emanated that “approachable” feeling. And, he was swoon worthy.

Sarah wished she could read his mind. Actually, she wondered if she were reading his mind. The connection between them, two strangers, was uncanny. She knew it was absurd. She saw him first—what—twenty-five minutes ago or so? They’d spoken well after that. Yet.

Yet …  

She betted she could tell him he wasn’t trying to hit on her, or get her into bed. Not for now at least. She betted he’d thought about it a couple of times already, but he was far more interested seeing how far he could make her squirm—a test of sorts, to see if she was into that, matching his intensity. She could also bet that, by far, the most thrilling aspect of the game was not knowing each other’s name.

It was for her.

What Sarah came out with to his mind reader question was, “I just did.”

He grinned at that answer. He didn’t press for more.

They spent the next fifteen minutes talking every now and then, but mostly it was back to stolen glances. Sarah pushed her earphones back in and pressed play on her music, though it didn’t drown out the electric presence that had her on edge. They never checked each other out, never cheapened whatever was going on with an eye-fuck, an invitation for him to ask her someplace, probably his, to get it over and done with.

It didn’t take forty-five minutes for the driver to come back on the speaker to say they’d be leaving soon, once he got seated. Only moments.

Sarah looked in the man’s eyes as the announcement sounded. Neither of them looked disappointed, but Sarah was sad inside. She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss this man, but she was definitely intrigued by the stranger.

It was only after the train took off that Sarah realised he didn’t stand, didn’t help her to stand up, too. Standing felt like a step back, and the only step after that was to walk away and forget any of this had ever happened. Comforted by the fact he still was vying for the power in this match, she didn’t move. Not even after that mother put her baby back in the pram, and asked her other child to please sit down on her lap. Not after others who’d eventually sat, stood, too. Sarah pulled her earphones out, lost interest.

The carriage went back to how it had been before the ill passenger, but not for Sarah and Him. He stayed on until her stop, and when she had to get off, Sarah’s heart picked up speed and pounded at her chest. Her lips quivered with anxiety as the train slowed to a stop. She had nothing to pack; her bag was how it was when she got on.

Sarah wasn’t interested in a wistful look goodbye. It wasn’t a thing she wanted for them to have, and then she wondered how they could have a thing at all.

It was as she stepped off the carriage that his voice bellowed out to her. She spun around quickly, keen.

He leant forwards, over the gap between the carriage and the platform she was standing on; a gap full of so many things, yet nothing at all. He held out her earphones.

“Oh, thanks.”

She went to grab them, and her bag strap slipped, spilling out the contents. The man didn’t think about what he did next, surely, he moved so quickly.

As if he’d been hoping for an opportunity.

He stepped off onto the platform, bent down, and together they picked up the contents of her bag that no man was meant to ever see.

The train doors beeped, closed, and both Sarah and the man never bothered to look up to watch them.

“Lucky this is my stop, too.”

• • •

NOW

It was a summer night when the man had stepped off the train and picked up Sarah’s lip gloss, which was rolling down the platform as the train sounded and chugged off to the next stop.

He dropped the make-up in her bag, along with a carry packet of tissues. Sarah looked up into his eyes and wondered what answers they’d bring. Such a simple action, placing her scattered items back where they belonged, but it was his touch and the confidence with how he moved that made her look away. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back to wait and see if she’d open the bag for him. He didn’t hold the lip gloss and tissues out for her to put in herself, hinting he wasn’t so sure about their boundaries.

Somehow this stranger had stepped into her personal space, confident she’d trust him.

The other passengers were dispersing, walking up the platform, heels clicking against the concrete. Other’s steps tapped as they climbed the stairs to exit the station. Sarah felt the man’s eyes on her, so she looked up to him. He was a head taller, but she felt like that head of his was the sun, and it shone rays too bright unless she squinted and held her hand out like a visor.

She marginally managed to stop herself from doing so.

“Are you this way?” he asked, pointing to the north side of the station.

The question seemed anticlimactic. She had expected something like, “Do you want to be left alone? Do you want me to stay? Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

But, once again, the man had that confidence she loved. She only realised after that moment how it was silly to ask if they’d part.

It seemed impossible that he’d slip away, like a shadow under a door, never to be found again.

Sarah nodded, and started toward the stairs at the end of the platform. She felt naked from behind as she heard the man’s footsteps follow her. She closed out the voice over the speaker, the woman who was laughing and chatting into her phone, steps ahead of her.

Instead, Sarah heard only the man’s footsteps, feeling as though she was the one winning this game now. She led; he followed. His footsteps were evenly spaced, and somewhere between a clomp and a swift
tap, tap
. They were steady and sure, not trying to cover that he was catching up to her. And she liked that. That little gesture said that this brief encounter had its own life form, and was keeping these two strangers associated.

At the stairs, though, Sarah’s legs—although lean and long—were no match for his. She felt him approach, and finally close the gap, until he took every other stair. Soon, she watched his pants lift and crease, the hem exposing his white socks as he headed for the top. She noticed his tapered shoes again, black and classy, the simple yet elegant style that she had seen for $50 at Payless Shoes, but also at upmarket boutique stores for $300. His step was too quick, and Sarah was too busy trying not to trip and face-plant the steps, to notice if it were leather or a synthetic material.

She joined him at the top of the stairs, seeing him still amongst people rushing to find their train tickets to swipe, busy with phones and tapping away, or running to get out. He had his hands dug in his pockets. There was a cool air about him.

“I’m lucky I forgot my cardigan today, and not yesterday.” Sarah looked to the sky as she continued, “It’s surprisingly balmy for …” She pulled out her phone to check the time. “… six o’clock.”

The man pursed his lips, lowering his eyes. He seemed to take in the air around him, assessing her judgment. He cocked his head. “Either a shame or a lucky day, depending on which way you see it.”