Hey, wake up early today. Can’t be late for the first day of school now, can you?

“Oh, damn it,” I muttered as I fumbled with my shoes, desperately trying to shove my feet into the black Converse sneakers that I had worn since the start of last year. A bit of toast was still hanging down my mouth, and I ferociously snagged the corner with my hand and munched furiously. Swallowing quickly and popping the rest into my mouth, I proceeded to bend and frantically tied up my laces, creating clumsy loops that I hoped would hold until I reached the subway.

“Bye mom!” I yelled into the empty hall, hoping that my voice was loud enough to travel up the rising staircase and through the heavy oak door of my mother’s study.

I zoomed out of the house, pausing only to nudge the door closed with my foot, and continued to sprint down the sidewalk and down the road. I hoped with all my heart that I would be able to catch the next train, and also that my haste wouldn’t result to any of the accidents that I find myself incredibly prone to in urgent situations.

 I really should get out of the habit of pasting notes onto my mirror and instead put the reminder application in my phone to good use. But of course, I was often preoccupied with other trivialities. Hence, the thought never really stuck long enough for me to apply it.

I huffed and panted as I checked my watch, panicking a little bit more when I realised that I had only twenty minutes before the next train left. I was already late by ten minutes; if this one left me, I would have to wait for another ten and would inevitably serve detention on my first day of school.

My neighbourhood was one of the gated parts of town, my family being well off, but not entirely rich to purchase a house closer to a station of any forms of public transport. Living in the gated community gave me enough advantage to speed on sidewalks and dash precariously across roads. My neighbours, whose duties –thankfully –do not bear as much urgency as my situation, were kind enough to drive slowly and let me pass.

My sneakers slapped against the concrete sidewalk, almost exactly in rhythm with my heart. The rough material of my bag scraped against my leg as I picked up my pace, glancing skywards every now and then to judge the time. The rich azure blue of the sky was slowly brightening, the clouds as if lined with gold thread. The cold morning breeze made my cheeks flush and my ears pink, but the urgency I put into my motions kept the other parts of my body warm.

I reached the sign and made a grab for the metal railing, sprinting down the stairs while doing my best not to slip. The stuffiness of the underground world and the physical exertion was making me light-headed, short of breath. I saw a flash of silver before me –the train, arriving at the platform. In my haste, I was aware that I pushed aside a few young boys who each threw choice words at me that I chose to ignore. I was too near to the doors; I couldn’t let it close on me!

I skidded to a stop in front of the doors, panicking a little as the stream of people disgorged by the train began to sweep me away. I pushed my way through, elbowing people and slipping between gaps as my heart thumped louder and louder in my chest. My obstacles now were the people surging in, all too absorbed in their own schedules to offer me an opening to squeeze through. I attempted to force myself in, but was mercilessly elbowed away by an annoyed and harried businessman who was yelling instructions to an incompetent office boy through his phone.

There was a ding; the doors were about to close.

I could almost cry in frustration, on the verge of mental breakdown. I was just about ready to scream when I felt something warm enclosing itself around my wrist, tugging me into the unceasing flow of people. I glanced down, startled, and stared at the smooth white hand whose long, thin fingers kept me from being swept away by the crowd.

Within the next few seconds, I realised that I was already in the small, stuffy interior of the subway train, pushed and shoved about by the people streaming down its horizontal length to look for seats.

“Over here,” a voice said, and I once again was led through the crowd by the thin fingers, which by now, I realised was attached to a boy of an extremely fair complexion.

He squeezed into an empty spot, brought me next to him, and finally let go of my wrist, reaching up to grasp the metal bar over his head to keep himself steady. For the first time, I was able to see his face.

He was handsome, with a finely chiselled face and a soft, but defined jaw line. His eyes were fathomless; two swirling dark pools that reached into the depths unknown, while his lips were lifted up into a perfect smile, showing a pair of high cheekbones that further enhanced his already attractive face. 

“You okay?” he asked me.

For a moment, I stood there, stunned into silence by his beauty, frozen still by his eyes. Distinctly, vaguely, I heard repeated thumps in my ear –my heart, as if trying to announce its presence and ground me into the real world while I whole body was soared upwards by that smile alone.

“Did something happen back there?” he asked, leaning closer this time, peering at my face.

I stepped back, the shock of reality, the rush of the train, returning to me. I was startled, dazed, my heart leaping in my chest in manner that was foreign to me.

“N-n-no,” I sputtered out. The jarring aftershock of being reeled back into reality still hung about me, making my brain slow and unresponsive.

“Are you sure?” he said, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly to show that he didn’t believe me.

“Yes,” I replied. It seemed like I was only capable of one-word answers in the presence of this boy.

“Alright then,” he said after a long pause, looking away and latching on tighter to the metal railing.

I opened my mouth to say something to him, to offer an introduction or an opening remark to start a conversation, but I found my voice dying in my throat, the words in my head inadequate to even be said. Timidly, I latched my hand on the metal pole that rose from below me, staring at the reflection of the boy through its shiny surface.

While he never once turned to look at me, I found that I could help but stare at him. Even the distorted image of him provided by the curved surface of the pole was enough, enough to let me admire him. He was one of the handsomest boys I had ever met, charming too, by what I could tell from his demeanour and that gentle smile. The boys in my school varied in terms of face and type, but there were none like him. Although it was foolish, I was instantly drawn to him.

The subway lurched into a stop, and the boy let go of the metal railing. “My stop,” he said, turning to glance at me.

Something seemed to hit me then, sending a cold rush down my body. I realised that I hadn’t thanked him yet. “Thanks,” I almost yelled out, suppressing the embarrassment I felt at how abrupt I must have sounded.

He gave a beautiful smile that made my heart stop.  “A pleasure,” he said, and then was soon swept away by the crowd as he disembarked.

I took a few seconds to calm myself down before glancing up at the lighted subway map above my head.

“Oh shoot,” I exclaimed. “It’s my stop too!”

I just managed to dart out of the door before it closed at my heels, but when I reached the platform and looked for the boy again, he was gone.