Haven't Had Enough → Chenry

It was the soothing rumble of the bus as the tires rolled against the gravelly dirt road that had rocked me to sleep for the entirety of the 20-hour ride. If it hadn't been for that rumbling, I would have found myself wide awake and stricken with anxiety about what awaited me in New York.

That anxiety, however, was exactly what I felt when I arrived at the bus station. There was nothing left to remind me of home – no cottages, farms, or dirt roads. I was right in the heart of New York City. At every turn there were skyscrapers, billboards, and throngs of people lining the streets as far as the eye could see.

And of course, there were those famous yellow taxis.

I stood on the curb of the sidewalk with my fingers latched tightly to the handle of my single carry-on suitcase and tried for dear life to hail a taxi with my other hand – but I wasn't having much luck. Just when I was ready to give up, a yellow cab pulled over to the side of the street. The driver lowered the passenger side window and called out, "Hop in!"

I tossed my bag into the trunk and opened the backseat door. Right away, I took to thanking the driver profusely, but when I was promptly interrupted by the sound of coughing, I realized that I was not alone in the back seat.

Startled, I took a good look at the stranger who sat beside me. He was tall, much taller than I was, and he was quite slim. He had dirty blond hair that he wore pushed back out of his face. His expression wasn't quite grim, but he did look rather unamused — at least until he caught me staring.

With a bemused smirk, he spoke up. "Instead of drowning the driver in thank-yous, don't you think you should clue him in on where you're headed?"

I sheepishly broke our shared gaze and cleared my throat. "34 Brickhouse Way, please."

The taxi driver nodded and pulled into a moving lane. I looked out the window to avoid any further conversation, but I could still feel the heat of the stranger's gaze on my face.

     "A girl after my own heart," came the boy's voice. His tone dripped with a teasing sarcasm. "Headed to the same place as I am. You must really like me."

     My head snapped as I turned to look at him and I raised my left eyebrow dubiously. All timid inhibitions had drained from me at that point, because I wasn't about to be followed by some stranger - and not a particularly rude one, at that. "Me, after your heart? I don't think so, buddy."

     He laughed and shook his head without saying a word, then turned to look out of his window and remained silent.

     I narrowed my eyes and took advantage of the opportunity to properly study him. His jaw was sharp and prominent, like his cheekbones, which the natural light played around on as it poured in through the window. He was clothed in a plain gray tee shirt that left his tattoo sleeves on display and black skinny jeans. Annoying as he was, I had to admit that he was attractive, and he probably knew it too.

     My attention had unwittingly fixed itself on his mouth when he glanced over and caught me. Flustered, I instantly looked down at my lap and twiddled with my fingers.

     "You can look," He teased with a laugh, nudging me with his elbow before letting his voice fall to a whisper. "Just don't touch."

     In a poorly timed but marginally useful stroke of luck, the taxi pulled up to 34 Brickhouse Way. "Well, don't hold your breath, Blondie," I shot back, unfastening my seatbelt. "I won't be doing very much of either."