Every time I pushed my way through the crowds of commuters and down into the depths of the London Underground I felt a mild sense of panic. I’d been doing this everyday now for the past year or so and it still seemed so alien to me. Having grown up in a small country town it had been a major shock to my system when I first arrived in London and had my first experience of the tube system here. The low hum of electricity and rumbling trains, barely audible over the cacophony of hundreds of people squeezing themselves onto the tiny platforms. It struck me as very weird that despite the noise of the crowd no one appeared to actually be talking to each other, everyone avoiding eye contact and pretending not to notice the person squashed up against them.
It was the sheer number of people that panicked me, the way the crowds surged and shunted forwards each time the train doors opened. Today was no exception. Despite positioning myself with my back against a wall, I was still being jostled around and pushed first one way and then another. A young woman with neon pink and purple dreadlocks was standing right in front of me, so close that hardened ends of matted strands of vibrant hair which she had gathered up into a bunch were close to poking my eye out. There was no room for escape thanks to the two young men in suits either side of me so I had little choice but to just turn my head to the side to avoid possibly losing my vision, or at the very least ending up with a sore eye.
The young man in the suit beside me gave me a swift look of sympathy and then resumed staring off into the middle distance and listening intently to whatever was playing through his earphones. I hated this place. I truly hated it. When I came to London I had been full of hope and excitement about the new wonderful life I was going to live. Whilst it was certainly something new it had turned out to be not so wonderful at all.
Suddenly the low rumble of an approaching train gained volume and the long row of carriages trundled into the station. The relief of the crowd moving away from me was only momentary, as we all tried to cram into the carriage the crush of bodies was even worse. As usual there was absolutely no chance of getting far enough inside to find a seat. Not that there would have been one free anyway.
Just about managing to avoid getting caught in the door as it closed, I turned myself around so I was facing the door, shut my eyes to the mass of bodies surrounding me and tried my hardest to pretend I was somewhere else. My tube journey to work only lasted 12 minutes but it always felt like a lifetime and was easily the worst part of my day, which is saying something considering that when I got to my job at the restaurant I cleaned toilets all day. Hopefully today would change all that, I’d still have to get the tube but if I got this new job then the tube journey would actually be worth suffering.
I had been standing there for only a few moments with my eyes shut tight when I felt a hand brush across my backside. Not an unusual occurrence on the Underground, it was easy to accidentally feel someone up with so many people crammed so close together. Breathing a little sigh of irritation I ignored the interruption of the wayward hand and tried again to imagine myself somewhere far away. Then it happened again, but this time the large warm hand slid firmly over the curve of my hip and down over my ass. This was no accident. My eyes flew open in shock and I could see the owner of the offending hand clear as day reflected in the glass panel of the door. Almost two heads taller than me and dressed in a light grey hooded top that stretched over his broad muscled chest and arms, was quite possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Dumbfounded and open mouthed I took in the cropped black hair, sexy hazel eyes, straight nose and strong jaw and hoped to god I wasn’t drooling all over my only suit.
He stared back at
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