1. First Contact
DING! DING! The bell tolled, echoing through the empty train hall. DING! Again, and another five times, signaling eight-o-clock at night. Savannah sighed. She was used to the train running late, but this was getting ridiculous.
Train still hasn't arrived, not sure when I'll be there. Savannah shot the brief text to her mom, who was likely pacing her home wondering where her daughter was. After all, she should have been home by now.
"Attention passengers, train 449 is underway and will arrive within two hours. We apologize again for any inconveniences." She slouched back in the padded seats of the train hall, throwing her head back in exasperation. Two hours!?
Another text to mom. Sorry! Probably another hour or two before we board... see you soon xoxo
Savannah closed her eyes and fought back feelings of frustration. Around her, she heard the shuffling of bags and feet heading for the door. Most passengers, it seemed, were willing to catch the train in the morning. Not her. She'd already waited this long, she was too stubborn to leave. A deep breath in, and a slow release, and her eyes fluttered open. As she leveled her head, she caught a glimpse of a familiar sight. A man across the hall met her gaze, before his eyes quickly darting away. The bright blues in her eyes nearly disappeared as she rolled them.
Savannah was a beautiful young woman, unfortunately accustomed to drawing the attention of the opposite sex. Sometimes the same sex. Not that she complained. She enjoyed watching the effect she had on people. It gave her a sense of power, control over something in her largely uncontrollable life. But today she was over it. She wanted to be home, in her own bed, not waiting in the train hall for a fourth hour. As she let her gaze travel across the hall, she caught herself in a mirror on a column not too far away.
Icy blue eyes met icy blue. She brushed her naturally vibrant red hair from her face. It curled at the ends. She had straightened it this morning, but the day had taken its toll. The now curly ends fell over her pale, freckled shoulders and rested over her chest. Savannah knew. She knew the way people watched as she walked away, the way their gaze couldn't manage to meet her eyes for very long. She had long gotten over the feelings of intrusion. All that considered, she had never been with another; man or woman. She found herself pondering this often. Savannah was careful, knowing that she could have most anyone if she tried, although she didn't want to. Her first time would be special. Electric. Meaningful. Not some throw away fling. Today, though, she wore little on her face, and was covered by a VERY comfortable and loose sweatshirt, and some gray sweatpants. Traveling in comfort was always preferred. Besides, there was no need to look like the subject of male dreams on her way to her mother's house.
Her eyes continued around the room and found the man who was watching her before. He seemed to be searching his bag for something. She returned her attention to her phone.
Fingers crossed, sweetie! We'll see you soon! Thanks, mom.
"Excuse me, miss, do you mind?" Do I mind? Savannah glanced up, and towering over her was the gentleman from before. He was gesturing at the seats next to her. Savannah shook her head, no, she didn't mind. The man, probably six feet and change, seemed to struggle pulling something from his pocket. A phone charger. Ohhhhhhh. She was sitting near the only working charging station. The charger seemed to stick to something, causing him to tug harder. No wonder it's stuck... his pants are... fitted. The man grumbled a little, perhaps letting some of his frustration at the train situation spill over. The cord came free with a final tug, whipping across her cheek.
"I'm so sorry!" His tone was one of genuine concern. Savannah was surprised at its softness. Reflexively, she had reached for her cheek. She felt the warm trickle of blood. How would she explain this to her mother, who already thought public transportation was too dangerous? Oh, sorry ma, a stranger slapped me with his cord.
"Let me," the man's soft, deep voice once again. It was a question, not a statement. He was quite polite. She liked that. It wasn't something she was used to from his sex. Not that it was his fault at all. With his soothing voice and his impeccable jaw and his kind brown eyes and... No. Stop it.
Savannah had indeed been feeling rather lonely lately. In an emotional sense, not a physical sense, although that wouldn't be bad either. She snapped herself out of it. He was pressing a napkin to her cheek, his naked ring finger and pinky incidentally touching the soft skin of her face. "Hold that, just like this," he demanded. Again, gently. She thought he could demand her to give up her bags, her purse, and should he ask like that, she just may.
The man left her, heading across the hall. Wait, she thought, come back. She realized he must return, he'd forgotten his bags. A few minutes later, he returned with a bag of ice. Where on earth? Everything had been closed for hours. A mystery for another time perhaps. As he approached, he looked towards his things and gave a nearly imperceivable shrug before stripping the pillowcase from a travel pillow that sat atop his luggage. The ice bag slipped into the pillowcase. He gestured at the bloody napkin, which I promptly pulled away, and he pressed the ice gently to my cheek. A chill shot down the length of my spine. A new sensation for me, it'd been years since someone outside of my family had treated me with such care, let alone a stranger in a train station. Savannah found herself smiling at the situation. A small smile, but genuine.
"Owen," the man said. This time a statement, rather than a question. "You must be Savannah."
Confusion, and then panic, replaced the other sensations as her head began to swirl. How had he known my name? What kind of creep? Savannah looked urgently towards the nearest door, an emergency exit. Surely this qualified as an emergency? She glanced towards her purse which sat slumped over and out of reach, the pepper spray it contained all but useless to her. What an idiot I am.
Owen, if that WAS his name, chuckled. It was deep, like his voice, and soothing. But not threatening. Further confused, Savannah made the possibly poor decision to look back at him. He met her eyes and glanced down towards her bags. One of which had her name printed in massive letters across a luggage tag. Oh.
Owen must have been able to sense the incoming embarrassment that Savannah was beginning to feel, because he sat and stopped his chuckling. Well, that or the intense shade of red that her otherwise pale face must have been.
"No worries, Savannah. I understand." Owen looked at her apologetically, although he had no reason to be. "Strange man in an empty train hall late at night. Hell, you'd be stupid not to react that way. How's your cheek?"
Her cheek. She had completely forgotten the incident that got this debacle started. "Yup, thank you," she said, holding her head high, the ice pack pressed to her face.
