pulled my braid again, smiled and raised her eyebrows.
So I followed her stare to find a perfectly built gentleman in an Armani suit, leafing through the Wall Street Journal, long legs crossed most elegantly. Since his head was buried in the newspaper, I couldn’t even see his full profile. But from what was visible, I kind of wanted to.
Very much wanted to.
What? I mouthed at her, knowing full well what.
‘Seeley Booth,’ she whispered, bugging her eyes. ‘Wait till he looks up.’
‘Shut up.’ I always had a thing for David Boreanaz, ever since his Vampire days, for which I blame my mom. On her night off, we watched Buffy religiously, though I was far too young to be up so late. Or watch anything as scary as latex-faced monsters, for that matter. She loved Spike, and I loved Angel.
So, in case you haven’t noticed, Gwen has this foolish thing where she’s convinced she sees celebrities everywhere. Case in point: ‘Jack White’ was playing at Zuzu’s, right?
But what if she was right this time? David Boreanaz. Right here in Boston.
‘Look. Look now!’ This time she didn’t keep her voice down, and I spun around again.
Dear God.
OK, he wasn’t Angel or Agent Booth, because he was even hotter.
No, really.
And about five years younger. Maybe ten? I can never tell how old people are after they hit 30, and I was pretty sure he’d hit that at some point.
To this day, I still can’t figure out how old Dorian Holder is.
Not that it matters.
Not that I care.
Evil shapeshifter is what he is.
Anyway, so there we were on the T, eyeballing this beautiful man who practically had a magical glowing aura around him.
He smiled.
Wow.
Not a smile so much, if I’m to be honest, but one corner of his mouth definitely lifted into a flirty smirk. Not a cruel smirk, because he had an adorable dimple, which softened the seriousness of his square jaw, high cheekbones and flashing eyes. Deep down, Adonis was very sweet, I was certain. It was a flirty smirk, and was already embedded in my memory bank, an image I planned to revisit over the few precious minutes before falling asleep at day’s end.
Our eyes met.
No shit.
His – brown eyes? Hazel eyes? Green eyes? I couldn’t tell. Anyway, his eyes twinkled for a moment, as though to say, Yeah, I know, lady. Take a good look. Maybe that’s what his eyes said. They glittered, letting me know they tell this story often, the story of women who cannot help but ogle. That he would be tolerant of our girlish fancies.
I preferred my fantasy that there was a sweetness about him. Maybe it was the dimple action that fooled me?
‘He’s totally checking you out,’ Gwen insisted, her voice a shade too loud.
Now our handsome stranger full-on grinned, ran a hand through his casual yet professional tousled brown hair and stood to his full height, which was around six foot two. I felt nothing short of blessed to see this guy, and have him notice me.
This man, rather. We all know guys.
The vision before me was no guy. He was a Man, with a capital M.
Now, I’m not talking about age, which can be irrelevant when it comes to separating guys from men. There’s a Man Thing, that thing where you just know he’s been there, done that, seen this, possibly won that. A winner. Charisma.
He was beautiful; there’s no other word for it. Sorry if it sounds corny, but sometimes you see someone, and you’re never quite the same afterwards. Maybe you don’t know why, and maybe you’ll never find out. But that’s OK. You’ve seen him. Whatever. And now you’re changed. It may not be sexual, though it’s way cooler if that factor comes into play.
Adonis of the Trains exuded physicality, sensuality and a certain something I still could never explain in words. Most of us could spend a lifetime seeking it, a certain kind of magic that only a small percentage of the population possess. After all, why do girls love rock stars when we’re changing into young women? What do we seek when looking at any man? That elusive something. If we’re lucky, we get a glimpse.
So there was my glimpse, and facing the day at the office was less horrible.
He’s a sign from God, I thought. This is where my 24th year begins, and it will be the best one ever. This is the year I reach womanhood, the year I blossom, the year my luck changes.
The man stepped forward, a determined expression on his face, just as the train jerked to a gut-wrenching halt.
What? Was he heading towards me? I wondered. No way.
A throng of people shoved into us; we assimilated and blended into the masses. The collective propelled Gwen and me forward like a couple of bowling pins, and we were swept out through the folding doors into the deep blue sea of anxious young urban professionals, into another working week, some of us unchanged and still stuck in the Groundhog Day mindset. Either they did not see Adonis, or they were like Gwen and me, blowing sideways through life.
But I saw him.
He saw me.
That happened.
Maybe that would be enough.
Godammit. Where was he?
Adonis Trainman was lost in the crowd, despite his notable height and despicable beauty. Gwen and I half stumbled, half fell out of the train into the day’s next moment.
They are only moments, after all, and that one was mine. I already looked forward to remembering Adonis, whoever he was.
‘Wait for him,’ commanded Gwen, her voice high with excitement. ‘He’ll be out in a second. This is going to happen. Lily! This is going to happen, do you hear me?’
She jumped in a circle, while I nodded dumbly and let her grab my elbow. We waited by the train like a couple of teenage mall chicks in line for a Miley Cyrus concert.
Are girls still paying attention to Miley? Or did she go out like a wrecking ball? I never listen to the radio.
Anyway.
Figuratively speaking, I missed my train. The last of the passengers exited, and Adonis was not one of them.
But, like I said, sometimes a moment is enough. Though a ‘meet-cute’ wouldn’t have killed me, a ‘look-intensely’ would do just fine. Today. Because ten minutes earlier, today wanted to suck. But after seeing
