A Chance Encounter on Platform 2

I know what they say. If she has her earphones in, and she is reading a book, leave her alone.

But I can't resist, alright? Can you blame me?

It's not just that she's attractive, honest. I recognise the book cover, and I just want to talk to her about it. You know how it is. Right? I make my way across the platform, and at first, I'm excited. It's like striding on clouds.

The nearer to her I get, the shorter my steps. I chew on my lip, and wipe my palms on my jeans.

What if she wants to shake hands? Don't be stupid, of course she won't. But what if she does? I never do this normally. I don't know how these things are supposed to go!

There she is. Here I am. She hasn't looked up. Hasn't noticed me amongst all the other people milling about. Not yet, anyway. How can I draw attention to myself without looking like an ass?

To put it another way, the conundrum of introverts everywhere: how can I draw attention to myself without drawing attention to myself?

I sit down next to her carefully, taking care that my bag doesn't knock the coffee cup resting next to her thigh.

My heart races.

Alright, now what do I say? How do I say it?

"Umm."

Shit. I didn't mean to say that part out loud. She looks across at me, and I try to decipher if that's curiosity or impatience on her face.

Her eyes return to the page. I'm filled with a palpable sense of mild panic. The moment, slipping through my fingers like sand.

"Umm. ahhem."

The little throat clearing sounds, to my ears, much more pompous than it had inside the safety of my own head. Like a school teacher getting the attention of a class who are talking just a little too much.

She looks over again, this time frowning slightly. I grab clumsily at the moment, a child trying to save a sandcastle from an especially efficient wave.

"Uhhh. Whatcher reading?"

Annoyance is written plainly across her features now, in big bold letters. She pops out an earphone, and makes a half-hearted half-smile.

"Sorry?" she says. "Can I help you?"

"Errr. I said, what are you reading?"

I think she rolls her eyes a bit, but it's hard to tell because she moves her head at the same time. She also directs her gaze back to the book, which she jerks it upward for a second, clearly displaying the cover. As if to say, this.

The moment has gone.

No! It can't! I might not get another chance!

I take a deep breath. The earphone pauses on its journey back to her ear. Another irritated glance is cast my way and I try a smile. Scrape together an iota of charm.

"Errr. Any good?"

She shrugs. "It's okay."

Earphone nestled back in place, she burrows herswelf back into the story, and locks me out.

I am frozen to the spot for a moment. It's like my brain is fizzing and spitting between my ears, throwing up cute lines I could use to salvage the situation. Turn it around. Then the gumption leaves me and I sag back in the seat.

It's hard and uncomfortable, and I already know that I will slope away in a moment, so that she can be comfortable again as well.

What could I have said though? Do you want me to sign it for you? Maybe. Maybe that would have been too conceited.

Maybe later, or tomorrow, or some other time, she'll catch sight of the author photo on the back of the book and recognise the dork on platform two.

I almost hope not.

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