The London underground would be more enjoyable if it didn’t come with so many bumps, rumbles and ear-splitting screeches.
My watch pings to tell me I’ve hit my noise limit, and I can’t help but wince as the sound takes me away from the worn pages of the romance novel on my lap.
I’ve done this journey home so many times now, yet the sound still cuts through me just like the first time I heard it.
After the tiring week of work that I’ve just had, all I want to do is bury my head and my heart into this book for the weekend, get wrapped up in the characters and the ache it brings my soul. I wait for the train to stop trying to burst my eardrums, until at last we speed out of the tunnel and begin the journey above ground.
I get back to reading about the main character and her flip phone, and feel for mine in my pocket. Ah, a flip phone in this day and age.
My sister makes fun of me constantly for it, and she doesn’t even know why I carry the stupid thing. It’s the romantic in me that is convinced it makes me quirky, just like the women in my novels who always manage to find love.
I love books like this. Stories of grand, all encompassing romance. The type that takes over your mind, heart and soul until you’ve finished them.
Is it too much to ask for? For a mysterious man to come into my life and entwine his soul with mine? The pages I’m reading would suggest not. My experience, or severe lack of it, might suggest otherwise.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement to the left of me as the man standing by the train doors stoops down to pick his scarf up from the floor.
Dark brown hair, the perfect amount of stubble and with a face that looks like he’s stepped out of a Disney film, he loops his scarf back around his neck.
As though he can feel me staring at him, his warm brown eyes slide to mine, and he smirks as mine widen in response.
Dammit! I try to get away with it by averting my gaze to the tube map above his head, staring as intently as I possibly can.
I’ve shared this train journey with the Divine Duke—that’s my silly nickname for him anyway—every day for the last three months. Each day I watch him sit back, put his headphones in, and switch off from the world until he gets to his stop.
He’s got to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Always well-dressed, looking incredibly cool and collected. In my mind I’ve associated him with the men from the pages of my favourite books.
I’m not jealous at all of the girlfriend who’s going to get that enormous bouquet he’s holding.
I glance back at him as I move my eyes down to my book. He’s still looking at me. Why is he still looking at me?
If I didn’t see him with flowers every so often, I’d talk to him.
Well, no, I wouldn’t. Because I’m a coward.
I spend so much time trying to be like the women in my books—confident, cool, desirable. But in reality I’m far too timid and boring to be like them.
I risk it and decide to indulge myself in one more peek, and find myself meeting his warm brown eyes. He’s still looking at me, and for some reason I can’t look away.
He smiles at me again, and I find myself smiling back.
What is happening? He’s never even noticed me before. I’d know, because I’ve been stealing glances at him every day for the last three months.
We are still looking at each other. Oh my god. I think I might actually have to say something. The intensity of his warm brown eyes is making my heart flutter, and it feels like hours—no, years—have gone by.
I rake my eyes down his body for ideas on what ridiculous small talk I can attempt to dazzle him with. In addition to the bouquet, he’s holding a soft brown leather briefcase with the letters DD embossed in gold.
He’s dressed in a dark black suit and a crisp white shirt that fits his slim shape perfectly. Black leather shoes, and a long, woollen, caramel coloured coat. He looks divine. Hence the nickname.
My eyes rest on his scarf—the thing that made me look over in the first place—and look back down to mine, realising they’re the same.
As I look back up at him, pointing to my scarf, I see him chuckling whilst pointing to his own.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out to see a text from my sister.
Alice—blind date tonight. Be at mine for 7. He’s cute!
She’s always trying to set me up. We can’t all have the perfect nuclear family like she does, but I know she means well and just wants me to be happy.
He’d better be! See you later. I text back quickly, so that I can get back to the Divine Duke before his stop.
I shove my book and phone into my shoulder bag, and before I have time to think about what I’m doing, I get up and head towards the Divine Duke and our matching scarves.
“Nice scarf,” I smile up at him. My god he’s tall.
With his warm brown eyes still trained on mine, he laughs down to me, “Thanks. I was just about to say the same thing to you.”
I point to the tiny headphone in his ear. “What are you listening to?”
He hesitantly pulls out the buds, “Uhh, Beyoncé just dropped a new album…”
The way he said it so timidly made me laugh. “Beyoncé?! That wasn’t what I was expecting. I love Beyoncé!”
A smile spread across his face, “Me too. It helps me to unwind on the way home, anyway. I would ask you what you like to listen to on your journey, but I know you probably can’t put songs on that little flip phone of yours,” he laughed.
“How do you know I have a flip phone?” I asked, impulsively feeling for it in my pocket, before remembering I shoved it in my bag earlier.
“We get the same train home. I see you typing away on it, it must take you forever,” he laughs. A perfect sound, his laugh is deep and inviting.
“You’ve seen me?” I had no idea he’d noticed me. I thought I’d been more observant than that.
He looks down at me with an intensity that makes me forget how to breathe.
“I see you every day. And somehow you always have your nose buried in a different book…”
I blush, looking down at my feet. As I’m about to defend my love of reading, the conductor announces that we’re pulling into Chiswick Park, the Divine Duke’s stop.
“Oh, this is me. This might be a bit forward, but I’d love to see you not on this train. Can I… get your number?”
My eyes widen. “Uhh… yes!” I try not to sound too excited. “I just got a new number, and I don’t know it off by heart yet. Let me just—“
I scramble through my bag to get my phone. Fishing through a sea of books, clutter and pens, I can feel my phone buzzing at the bottom.
The train is slowing down for the station, and I yank the phone out of my bag and rip open the lid to find my number. I click through the clunky menu trying to get to my contacts, but every click is somehow slower than the last.
I hold up my finger as a signal to wait, hoping it might impact the speed of this damn train.
“I almost have it! This stupid phone is so slow.”
I can see the station flashing through the train windows. I have seconds until the train stops.
I finally get to my name in the list of contacts and the train comes to an abrupt halt. A gangly teenager stumbles, caught off guard, crashing into me from behind.
The Divine Duke and I watch in unison as the phone leaps out of my hand, arcing through the air and landing on the floor at the opposite end of the carriage.
I gawp in the direction of my phone. This has got to be a joke.
The Divine Duke turns to me as the train doors behind him beep, signalling they’re ready to close. “I’m so sorry, I have to go, like, right now.” He backs out onto the platform and as the doors begin to shut, shouts to me, “I guess I’ll… see you on Monday?”
My mouth is still open. I nod, not really knowing what else to do, as the train doors bang shut and the carriage lurches back into action.
For fuck’s sake. What the actual hell was that?!
I stomp to the other end of the carriage to scoop up my shitty phone, cursing as I go.
I guess he’s right, I’ll see him on Monday, same as every week. This is just my luck.
I push a button to see a little green envelope. That’ll be my sister texting about tonight.
Trust me sis, he’s perfect for you. He’s a friend of Grayson’s from the office, and you have tonnes in common. Don’t be late!
I ignore the message. I’ve already told her I’d be there, and I’m pissed off that I’ve just missed out on giving my number to the Divine Duke.
I slam the phone’s tiny little stupid lid shut and pelt it back into my bag with as much force as I can muster. I sit back down to wait for my stop, and chastise myself in the meantime.
Why am I like this? I spend so much time trying to live my life like I’m some edgy woman who’ll draw in a soulmate with my interesting flip phone.
In this moment, I realise I’m absolutely sick of myself. Sick of this flip phone, sick of getting swept up into some nonsense love story hoping for my own mysterious moody man, and sick of living in some alternate reality where everything is gumdrops and roses.
I decide I’m going to go and buy a proper phone this weekend, and that it’s time to send all of those boxes of books to the local charity shop.
I know I’ll see the Divine Duke on Monday. But my ridiculous notion of romance has stopped me from speaking to him sooner.
Stewing in my own self pity, I sit with my head against the window, eyes closed and wait for my stop so I can get off this damn train.
****
I’m five minutes away, I type out to my sister. With the Divine Duke still on my mind, I hope this blind date is worth my time. I’m already itching to finish work on Monday.
Bottle of my favourite red wine in hand, I climb the steps to my sister’s townhouse. It’s not the biggest house on the street, but it’s the best kept, and in an affluent part of town.
She sees me through the glass of the front door as I approach, and she rushes down the hall to let me in—it’s a cold night tonight.
“Cute dress,” she says, bringing me in for a hug. I’m wearing my favourite cosy winter dress. Short enough to be flirty, but high necked and made of soft velvet, the black dress hugs my figure perfectly. And as always, I’ve paired it with my favourite soft leather doc martins.
I hear voices coming from the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me, what’s his name?” I hiss to my sister as we walk down the perfectly decorated hallway. Art hangs from the walls, and a giant mirror sits above a side table holding a gigantic bouquet of flowers.
Before she can answer, my brother-in-law Grayson steps out of the kitchen, blind date in tow.
A handsome man strolls out, and as my eyes meet his in their perfect warm brown glory, we both grin.
“Alice, this is Dorian Duke.”
What are the chances?
****
I run for the train, desperate not to miss it. I’ve been impatiently waiting for this journey all day. As I hop through the carriage door to look for him, I feel an arm sneak around my waist.
“There you are,” he whispers in my ear.
Turning around I meet his gaze, “Here I am, my divine Duke,” I breathe.
Maybe that flip phone wasn’t the worst, after all.
You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.
0 comments