by Lindsay Griffiths
By the time I reached the subway station, she was gone. The train was speeding away and, without checking my surroundings, I just knew she was on it. I could still smell her curly, auburn hair, each strand infused with the scent of vanilla. I could still feel her hips between my palms, her body against mine. I could still see that fierce look in her brown eyes that had captured me so immediately. She had warned me not to follow her today, and I admittedly understood her apprehension as things had been moving fast. But I could not betray my heart, so I had pursued her, knowing that we couldn’t live without each other. But I hadn’t followed her closely enough from the bus stop to the subway, and I was sure that my beloved had escaped me.
The loud train rushed out of the station, with a powerful gust of air, surely speeding away with the love of my life. I was distraught. The air blew my scarf off of my neck, and I grabbed for it while looking behind me self-consciously. I hoped no one had seen my awkward fumbling. But someone had. There she was with her head of vibrant curls, standing confidently, staring at me, eyes narrowed with passion. She hadn’t taken the train after all! She came towards me with a purposeful stride, and I spread my arms, ready to welcome her in. “Darling,” I greeted her with a grin. My smile grew as I thought of the serendipitous moment on the packed bus earlier that same morning. Fortune had made the bus stop short. Fortune had put her right in front of me. Fortune had afforded me that jolt, that opportunity to finally grasp the beautiful woman I had been staring at for the past ten minutes.
As she came close, her face was serious; I knew her to be a serious woman, feisty. But I knew she couldn’t stay hostile in the face of love at first sight. I remembered the name on the work ID that hung from her jacket this morning. “Denise, my love!” Finally, she was nearing my embrace, near enough for me to reach out and grab her.
Suddenly, my cheek was met with a furious punch. I stumbled back, flabbergasted, from the impact of her fist. She looked me up and down once, with what almost seemed like disgust, and spat at my feet. I watched her walk away, her familiar hips swaying defiantly, her heels attacking each stair as she left the train station. Halfway up the stairs, she turned over her shoulder and said, “Follow me again, and I’ll call the police, creep.” And she disappeared above ground.
I wasn’t sure what to make of her intensity. Either she was kinkier than I had anticipated, or she wasn’t ready to accept our divinely intertwined fates. I lamented her obstinacy, but I knew she’d come around. After all, she was the first of my past lovers to not only acknowledge my existence, but to also give me a nickname. “Creep.” I liked the sound of it. I mean, surely I had garnered her affections. This made me all the more deeply enamored with my Denise.
I stood alone in the subway station as others arrived intermittently to wait for the next train. Before long, I was planning my next move in this game of hard-to-get. I would have my beloved in my arms again soon enough.
