Kindling [Podestaria Book 1]

01.2 Trains

"I beg your pardon; may I ask if this seat is taken?"

The deep male voice would have made Dulcolax's package leaflet sound sexy.

The young man wasn't the first handsome posh boy they met, wearing high end clothes and dark brown Ray-Ban sunglasses still on his nose, but he stuck out like a sore thumb. Someone like him belonged to a luxury train's first-class carriage, not a Great Western Railway's standard wagon.

"Of course not!" Tottie replied, fluttering her lashes at him while kicking Inga from under the table.

Holding back a pained yelp, Inga moved the bags from the unoccupied seat while the young man took off his jacket. Her mobile vibrated. Tottie wobbled her eyebrows, her fingers still grazing her own smartphone's screen.

Tottie: Alas. No rippling muscles! 😩

Hana: don't you like bad boys anymore?

Tottie: he might have a wild side. Don't judge a book by its cover 😏

Inga placed her mobile screen down. Her friends could gossip about the young man without her. He was right beside her; he only had to glance down to read their messages—it would be too embarrassing. She took her notebooks, giving Tottie and Hana a 'please leave me out of it' glare.

Inga caught a whiff of the young man's smell, an unusual blend of leather, underwood and something familiar she couldn't point out. As she shifted in her seat, their elbows touched on the shared armrest.

Something echoed within Inga, like an unplucked string vibrating in resonance to another. For a split second, everything went black as if the train had entered a tunnel; her ears rang almost painfully.

It was gone before Inga could pin it out.

Despite her heart drumming harder than usual, Inga focused on her notes and ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach. Maths was much more challenging than she was used to, or changes weren't as smooth as she would have liked.

Unlike when she changed schools in Year 10, no Tottie and Hana were helping out. Inga had to adjust to university life on her own. Her dorm room was worst: it felt like the wilderness, with hungry beasts lurking around instead of a nook in a late 1960s concrete building.

Tottie kicked Inga from under the table again, tilting her head at her mobile.

Tottie: what is he doing? 😏

The young man scribbled in a clean, elegant cursive while his other hand rested upon a manuscript's photocopy. Inga could make out a date, 5th August 1635.

Me: studying something History related

Tottie: Are you kidding me? 😲😱🤬

Tottie: He's next to three hot chicks like us and he's STUDYING?! 😤😤😤

She gave Tottie a warning glance and dove back into her notes, failing to make the numbers work. Inga glanced up at the ceiling, but no divine intervention told her what in the heck was wrong with her notes. She took her mobile, ignored her friends' latest messages, and logged into the chat app. Inga grinned as she clicked on the Moderator's username.