The Bus Boy
He sits in the same spot every day. His dark brown eyes looking lost out in the distance. His black soft hoodie and dark jean pants always over his immaculate body.
I have been taking the same bus every morning and afternoon since I started my internship at the Washington Law firm three years ago.
He sits on the third last row of seats next to the window on the left.
He never talks to the people who sit next to him and those very people never seem to notice him either.
It is strange. Someone so beautiful has sat on the same bus as me for the duration of my stay in New York.
I have seen his perfect jaw line and nearly kept hair every.single.day. That's one thousand and eighty days.
Sometimes I play a little game with myself.
During the fifteen minutes it take me to get from Mary Street to Washington Avenue I stare at him for as long and as hard as I can. All the while counting the seconds it takes for either, one, me to blink, or two, for him to look at me.
So far it has only been option one.
I'm not stalking him. No, that would imply I follow his every move every second of the day.
I just notice him. During the total of the 900 seconds it takes during my bus ride.
But it's not stalking. I promise!
I have been making progress lately.
At the beginning I sat at the front of the bus. To overwhelmed and intimidated by his angelic appearance, but slowly, over the one million five hundred and fifty five thousand, two hundred minutes since I first noticed him I have made my way to the seat across from him.
I have tried everything to get his attention.
It first started with a subtle cough here and there. Then it gradually went to me "tripping over" walking to my seat. Then me asking the person, loudly, sitting next to him what the time is.
Like I said before, I have tried everything.
Everything except talking to him... and as I tap my fingers rhythmically on my lap looking over at his usual closed off persona every five seconds I realise all my options have been used.
All but the one thing any normal human being would do after drooling over the same man for three years.
I sigh deeply preparing myself.
You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can do this, I chant over and over in my head as I hesitantly stand up from my comfort zone.
I slowly walk up to him but quickly turn around, freaking out.
"Hey lady! Move it and pick a damn seat" a over weight balding man yells from behind my shaking form.
I suck in a quick breath and sit down next to my mysterious stranger.
You can do this, you can do this, you can do-
"Hi! My name is Amanda, how 'bout you?" I rush out trying my best to smile away my cringe.
I sound ridiculous!
Silence greets me instead of a reply.
Oh-okay? I guess that hurts a little bit.
I take an extra mile in getting his attention.
I place my manicured hand on his shoulder expecting a reply.
He jumps on his seat then freezes.
I quickly retract my hand and scold myself.
"Oh sorry. It's- it's just I was trying-" I stop when he slowly turns to look at me.
A look of shock on his face.
"You shouldn't be able to see me" he whispers in disbelief.
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