About Take a Ride With Me
by Emily Moreton
38 pages / 10400 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-256-9
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Stuck in his flat while he works on his next book, Max's only break is watering the plants on his roof, at least until he catches the eye of an attractive stranger on a train, which is stopped on the line passing his flat. Flirting's not that easy when all you've got is hand gestures, but that's not going to stop Max from fantasizing. Of course, no fantasy can last forever, and as Max is about to discover, making sure reality lives up to the fantasy isn't as easy as it sounds.
Sample
When he goes out again Tuesday evening at the same
time, the train's there again, idling on an otherwise empty line. The
windows are open like the evening before, but there's no sign of the man
from Monday, even when Max looks twice, laughing at himself a little for it.
He needs to be back at the university, not locked in his flat writing his
book, if only so that he can go back to nursing an attraction for the
manager of the coffee shop in the students' union, instead of a guy on a
train who he's only seen for a few seconds.
He hefts the watering can, poking at the slight green tips of the sprouting
carrots. Assuming the magpie that's a frequent visitor doesn't get them,
he's planning to trade some with Emma, his co-lecturer on the Intro to
Medieval History class, for her strawberries, something he's never managed
to grow in a tub.
He looks up at the train absently, distracted by contemplating his green
pursuits, and finds himself looking right at the guy from yesterday, back to
leaning in the open window. He's wearing a bright pink shirt this time, and
it should look awful, but it doesn't, just makes Max very conscious that
he's in his oldest, most worn jeans, and a UCL T-shirt that he's had since
he did his PhD there five years ago.
He waves anyway, and the guy raises a hand in return, then looks up the line
and rolls his eyes, smiling wryly. It must be some kind of work on the
track, Max figures, for the same train to be stopping two days in a row. He
points up the track, holds his hands up, first close together then further
apart, trying to ask how much further the guy has to go.
The guy frowns for a moment, then his expression clears and he makes an
expansive gesture, stretching his hands as far as they can go in the
confines of the window space.
Max raises an eyebrow, silent expression of doubt that makes the guy laugh a
little. Max can't hear it over the hum of the train engine, but he imagines
it as a nice laugh, warm. The guy looks like someone who'd have a nice
laugh.
The guy checks his watch, then holds up three fingers, then a circle of
thumb and forefinger, and Max gives him a sympathetic grimace. He wouldn't
want to be stuck on a train for half an hour in this heat, especially with
the delay.
The guy appears to agree with Max's unexpressed sentiment, because he sticks
his head further out of the window, then fans himself with the paper in his
hands. Max tips his watering can to show it's empty, and the man laughs
again.
Max likes a guy who laughs, and he really likes a guy who tries to talk to
him from a train.
Without warning, the train jerks back into motion, and the guy puts a hand
on the open window, catching his balance. The train speeds up fast, but not
so fast that they don't have time to exchange a final wave.
It's only later, as he's saving the latest chapter of the book, that it
occurs to Max to wonder if the guy was trying to tell him something with the
pink shirt, considering his staid clothing choice on Monday.