2. Braylon
TWO
brAYLON
Closing my suitcase, I glanced around the room, making sure I had remembered everything. Damn, I slapped my brow and unzipped the bag. I’d forgotten the present.
I was giddy with excitement because I was surprising my aunt and uncle, the people who’d brought me up. They’d moved a couple of towns over from where I grew up and this was the first time visiting them in their new place.
But I wasn’t turning up at the front door merely because I had a housewarming gift. Nope. I’d just gotten a new job, and I wanted to thank them because without their love, kindness, and generosity, I wouldn’t have made it to college and been in the position I was in now.
Hmmm, I tried rearranging my clothes, but I couldn’t fit the housewarming gift in the roller bag. I’d have to carry it. I’d created a time capsule with pics, cherished items, such as fridge magnets and science experiments gone wrong I’d made as a kid. Having bought a vintage cake tin to contain the items, I was very protective of it. My uncle loved to bake—he’d taught me—and I had happy memories of Sundays in winter, the kitchen warm and toasty and us making cakes, pies, and cookies.
Uncle Saul had a collection of old tins on a kitchen shelf. He said it reminded him of when he used to cook with his mom.
I placed the tin in a cloth shopping bag but worried someone would bash into it, I wrapped it in a towel and replaced it in the bag.
Shit. Time had sprung away from me, and I had to get to the station. Having forgotten to order a ride share, I cursed when the app said it would be twenty minutes before a driver could reach my place.
Why were they so busy on a Sunday morning?
I was waiting on the sidewalk, checking the driver’s location every minute, and when he pulled up, I yanked open the door and jumped in. He raised a brow but said nothing, and I reckoned he’d seen it all, not that I wanted to know what “all” was.
We arrived at the station in plenty of time, and I grabbed a coffee and sat drinking it while eating a croissant. Uncle Saul messaged saying they hadn’t seen me in a while and when was I coming to stay.
We miss you , sweetheart .
Me too . I’d see them in a few hours, so I shrugged off the guilt. Maybe I can visit the week after next. I’ll let you know later today . I didn’t want them planning something special, thinking I was visiting in two weeks.
I was hit with the realization that Aunt Ellie and Uncle Saul might have gone away for the weekend. If I arrived and they weren’t home, I’d be disappointed. Sure, I could get into the house, as they told me where the spare key was, but I’d be alone, in a place that held no memories.
What are you doing today? Working in the garden?
Aunt Ellie was the gardener, but she roped in my uncle to do the heavy lifting. My aunt had created a magical environment in their former home, and I’d spent hours there as a kid fighting dragons and making forts.
Yes, it’s a beautiful day, and this so-called garden needs a ton of work . Besides, we’ve got no car until tomorrow. It’s in the shop.
Great, they were home, and I’d be there soon.
As I drained my coffee, I checked the departure board. No! That couldn’t be right. It said my train was leaving in five minutes. How had thirty minutes passed? I squinted, and the only thing that had changed was the time. Now it was departing in four minutes!
Crap! Rolling the suitcase behind me and holding the bag with the present, I raced toward the platforms. Why were turnstiles so damned tricky? I got caught up, and it blocked me. Trying again, I got the no-go signal and yelled, “No!”
I had a choice. Try another turnstile or go to the customer service desk. But I’d miss my train if I waited to speak to someone. I might miss it no matter what. Leaping over it was an option that might get me arrested.
Trying again and this time it worked, though getting the bag, the present, and me through the turnstile was similar to being in a torture chamber. Not that I’d ever been in one.
I tore down the stairs, but as I flew over the last one, I skidded over the concrete. Was this the right platform? Yeah, it was thirteen. That was what I’d read on the departure board.
Racing into the carriage, I yelled, “I made it!” That had some of the passengers giggling. The luggage racks at the end of the carriage were full, and I fumbled for my ticket, sticking it in my mouth as I manhandled the suitcase. Of course there was little room in the overhead racks, but my bag was small, so I made a space between two boxes and lifted mine up.
There were few seats remaining and mine was a window. I checked the number and there was a guy already sitting in my seat. He was gorgeous, and I would have gladly squished in beside him, maybe sat on his lap, but I suspected a conductor would turf me out, stop the train, and make me get off.
The guy was staring at me, a mixture of fear and something else in his gaze, something yummy. Why couldn’t he have been sitting next to me instead of his seatmate, whose eyes were feasting on me? Ewww!
“I think you’re in my seat. 21D”
He got up, and the man on the aisle didn’t move, proving he was an asshat. Muttering an apology, the sexy one moved to the row in front. He had a nice butt, and I studied it until he plonked himself down, annoying his new neighbor. Wishing I could strike up a conversation, I waited as my seat mate got up and ushered me in with a flourish.
I’d have to pretend to sleep during the three-hour journey ‘cause I suspected he was a talker. I wasn’t, but I could have chatted non-stop to the sexy guy.
The train started to move. It had been a long five minutes, and according to my watch, we were ten minutes late leaving.
A latecomer struggled along the aisle as the train swayed, and he paused at the row in front of me.
“Excuse me, but I think you’re in my seat, 20D.”
What the ever-loving…? The smexy guy had done it twice. Gotten in the wrong seat. I felt sorry for him as I peered through the gap in the seats at his flushed eartips.
“I’m so sorry.” He got up, holding his phone, and instead of going to another carriage to wherever his correct seat was, he leaned toward me, showing me his ticket on the phone.
“Sorry, but this is my seat.”
That couldn’t be. The computer booking system must have F-ed up. I waved my ticket at him. “There’s a mistake, but it’s not mine. This is me.” I pointed to the seat number on the ticket and to the corresponding number above me.
“Maybe you can sit there.” I pointed to the empty seaton the opposite side of the aisle. It was possible someone might be sitting there, but the first stop was an hour away, so some passengers would get off and we could all play musical seats.
“Can you show me your ticket?” He extended his hand as the train lurched and trundled over the tracks, heading through the grimy city center toward the sprawling suburbs.
“If that’s okay?” he reminded me, bringing me back to the present.
Gods, how could I have forgotten the guy with the ass that was begging to be stroked, squeezed, and maybe licked?
“Oh yes, sorry.” The conductor would be along soon and he'd clear up the confusion, but I handed the hot guy my ticket and my fingers brushed over his. My skin sizzled. I gazed around the carriage thinking people must have heard it or smelled my singed flesh. But most passengers were bored with our wrong-seat fiasco and were dozing, reading, or chatting. No one was pulling the emergency brake and yelling “Fire.”
“Ummm, there’s a slight problem.”
Yeah, there was. “We were both assigned the same seat, 21D”
“You’re going to Rosedale.”
My belly jolted, thinking some disaster had happened in the small town. I took out my phone but my trembling fingers couldn’t find my aunt and uncle’s phone number. Hurricane? Tornado? Flood? Aliens? Zombies? My mind boggled at the possibilities.
“Yes. Has something happened?”
“I’ve been to Rosedale.”
I didn’t see the problem, and why was he giving me his history? Did he think the town was his, and I wasn’t allowed there? The guy might’ve been hot but his vibe was annoying.
“We’re not stopping there.”
Rosedale was a small town. Why would he pay attention to the places the train wasn’t stopping?
While I’d never been to my aunt and uncle’s new house, the town where they were now living was on the same line as their previous one. On looking out the window, this train appeared to be taking the same route, because when I was at college, I traveled this way home every Friday.
“What? No?” He was talking silly talk, trying to confuse me, pretending I’d made a huge F-up. “I got on at platform thirteen.”
“Me too.” He tapped his phone while scrolling through a site. “This is an express train from Fairview to Springfield. The Rosedale train departed from platform thirty.”
Panic had taken over my body, and I was shaking. “I have to get off.” Picking up the housewarming present, I pushed past the asshat, but gorgeous guy took hold of me.
“What are you doing? Please tell me you’re not planning on jumping off. That won’t end well.”
“If I have to, yes!”