Bus Ride With A Stranger

September 25, 2012 8:18pm

What is he staring at?

Surely he’s not looking at me like that?

Is there something on my face?

I grab my purse and pluck my compact from the inner pocket. No, nothing on my face.  His eyes shift to his phone. He’s checking a text. He smiles. It’s a pleasant thing, that smile of his. I find myself smiling too. I look back at him – he’s looking right at me – his grin stretching even wider. Then he points.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

The whole bus is empty, yet he wants to sit in the seat beside me. Who is this guy? He doesn’t wait for my answer. He’s already accepted his own offer.

“I’m Abel,” he says, tipping his hat.

“Harley.”

“That’s different. I’ve met a boy with that name. Never a girl. I like it. It suits you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

He chuckles, “I just meant it’s not the norm.”

“The norm is drab.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Enough with that smile already. It’s distracting. It’s…wait – I forgot what I was saying…oh, right – that smile. My goodness, his teeth are as white as porcelain. Oh, I think he asked me a question…

“What was that?” I ask.

“Fade out there for a second?” he jokes.

“I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You’re awfully nosey for a stranger.”

“I prefer the term ‘curious’.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh…but it stops short. “Why do you keep looking at me like that for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have this intense stare. It’s creepy.”

“You’re awfully blunt for a stranger. I’m creepy am I? Maybe I just have intense eyes.”

“Either way. It’s still creepy.”

He goes quiet. Pondering something. Now I’m staring. I look out the window. The bus jerks to a stop and my body thrusts forward. I try to catch myself, but somehow I end up in his lap instead. I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smiling. He helps me straighten up.

“I may be creepy and nosey, but you’re clumsy.”

An older couple, a black man in a construction uniform, and a girl in her mid-teens pay their bus fair and find a place to sit.

“Harley?” Abel’s lips are so close he’s nearly kissing my ear.

“What?” I say, trying to sound annoyed.

“Try something with me.”

“With a stranger? I know better than that.”

“Just listen, I have a proposition.”

“Oh?”

“There’s something in it for you too.”

“Do tell.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“That’s subjective.”

“Just follow my lead.”

He stands and holds out his hand. When he sees my hesitation he smiles. He turns around to look at the others on the bus.

“Can any of you strangers sing a tune?”

The black man smiles. “Whadaya wanna hear?”

Is this really happening?

“You know any Frank Sinatra?” Abel asks.

I open my mouth to object, but the black man is faster. He belts it out.

“Fly me to the moon. You’ve got good taste sir.”

Then Abel turns to me, removing his hat and placing it on the seat beside me.

“Harley, may I have this dance?”

“Are you mad? We can’t dance on the bus.”

The black man pauses.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m nosey and creepy.” He looks at the bus driver in the rearview mirror. “Tony, you mind?”

“C’mon lady. It’s just a dance.”

The black man chimes in: “He seems like a nice guy. Just dance with him will ya?”

I sit there for a moment – mouth hanging open. He’s waiting. They all are. They all want me to dance with him.

“You can’t be serious?” it was more of a plea, than a statement.

“Oh, but I am. Please. You won’t regret it. I’m light on my feet.”

“You better be, because I have two left feet.”

 I put my hand in his. He yanks me to my feet and into his arms. He smells like cinnamon. I hear the black man start up where he left off. Abel’s body is firm against mine. We’re both staring. I see that smile flicker across his face. He’s whipping me around like I weigh no more than a feather. I stumble often, but he catches me every time. I’m enjoying it more than I’d care to admit.

The first song ends and another one starts up in its place. It’s one of my favorites – Lay your head on my shoulder. I melt against Abel’s chest. He radiates enough heat that I forget how miserably cold I was prior. His idle hands become attentive; one slips down to the small of my back, and the other in between my shoulder blades. He leans closer.

“Was that cherry chap stick I saw you putting on earlier?” he asks with a subtle grin.

“Strawberry.”

“Can I try it? …That was creepy wasn’t it?”

“Extremely. But I have a thing for creepy guys.”

“Really? Since when?”

“Since now.”

We stop dancing. The black man stops singing. The bus driver is watching the scene from the rearview mirror.

“C’mon Romeo.” I laugh.

His eyebrows knit together. Maybe he’s lost his nerve.

“What’s there to think about? Kiss her already!” The old woman shouts from the back of the bus.

Abel and I smile simultaneously. His face nears mine…suddenly the bus turns a sharp corner and he’s thrown into a nearby seat and I’m thrown onto him. My face is caught by his chest. We both sit up, trying to regroup. His hands find my face and he tilts it upwards until our eyes meet. I can feel everyone watching, waiting to see what happens.

                “While I’m still being creepy – I’d very much like to taste that chap stick of yours.”

                My lips find their way to his cheek. I drag them lightly over to the corner of his mouth. He turns his head – our noses touch. I feel his breath on my lips. Our lips collide with a jerk of the bus – we welcome the initiation. His mouth lingers on my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. His teeth faintly prick – nibbling. A smile breaks out – it’s mine. I guess it’s contagious because it’s on him too.

                I pull away suddenly. “What stop do you get off at?”

                “I was supposed to get off seven stops ago.” He smiles.

“Well since you’re here…” I pull his face to mine again; using the front of his shirt as leverage.

…Let’s just say there’s nothing quite like kissing a stranger.