Nine Lives

Roaring 20s

Exactly three minutes later, after 180 seconds of pure anxiety from Blakes eyes boring imaginary doubts and scenarios and all things overthinking into the top of my head, he breaks the long held silence.

"1920s, 1960s or 1990s?" He quizzed, retracting a rather unamused look from my hooded eyes.

"Come again...?" I stuttered, latching eyes with those emotional lasers.

"I want to learn more about you, and this way we can make it more fun!" He smirked, moving to stand directly infront of me, one hand gripping the metal bar above, the other cradling Velma like a nugget of gold. Blake looked...different, in this light. The fluorescent bulb casting shadows over his features, while contrastingly lighting him up brought great attention to the curves of his body.

I hadn't noticed it earlier, not until I felt how strong he was when he held me, but Blake was one hell of a warrior. The cuffs of his shirt gave a sneak peak of bulging muscles underneath, sleek and tanned just enough to show his strength, and hide his ego. As my eyes ranked down his slender arms, I imagined the roughness of his cuticles rubbing through my hair, tugging on it gently...

Woah. Z Y X W V U T...back up the alphabet.

Did that thought seriously just cross my mind? A minute ago I was questioning his sanity and now...now, the highlight of faux sunlight morphs his being into something more than just handsome; now, he was hot.

S R Q P O N M...keep counting backwards, girl.

I really need to get my shit together. But his eyes make it hard to tear myself away...

"So, what will it be?" He reminded, snapping me out of my peeping tom daydream. "The roaring twenties, the 'welcome to the sixties' or the Rihanna hotspot that was the nineties?"

I thought about it more deeply than I probably should, weighing the pros and cons of women's rights, speakeasies and low-cut jeans. Just no.

"Twenties", I spoke with confidence.

"Care to explain?" He pried, leaning closer to me from his diagonal stance above.

I gulped, the tension rising as if the carriage was catching fire. "Um, Panic! At the disco has a song called Roaring Twenties..."

God, why was I running my mouth like a complete idiot?

Blakes eyes stayed lingering on mine, his body language speaking to me the way words never could. I pulled one leg up under my bum, a bold move for how frozen I felt under Blakes wondrous gaze...who knew train seats came with a big blob of super glue? It wouldn't surprise me one bit if I got up and a heart shaped hole exposed my bumblebee underwear.

But instead of throwing gasoline on the heat that continued to roll like a fireball down the empty train, ice water appeared instead. "Good answer." He said, twisting his body round and falling into the seat opposite me, all while taking one last look at Vlema and placing her back into the safety of his bag.

Okay?

I composed myself and shifted around to make sure I was unstuck, all the while refusing to make eye contact with Blake and accept the heat I felt for him. My blockage was...well...blocked, when he spoke up yet again. "Pirates, fairies or royals?"

"Again with the riddles?" I squeaked out, my gaze still on the piece of yellow gum stuck on the filfthy floor below me.

"Again with the questions." He grinned, rearranging his fringe to sit just above his deep scowl.

I mimicked his expression, curling a strand of hair instantly through my fingers. "What do you mean pirates, fairies or royals?" I asked, sucking up my awkwardness and knocking the bottle back until the sour punch snaked its way between my teeth and down the back of my sore throat.

"If you could live in another world - one with pirates fighting enemies, fairies healing nature or royals throwing balls, which would you be a part of?" His tone held such conviction, sometimes I honestly think he believes these crazy creations he comes up with, as if the next station will be a wormhole to another universe.

"Um...pirates?" I guessed, lacking my own moral compass.

He grinned, crossing his arms and chuckling 'I knew you'd be a pirate."

'Bronzer, since the moment I met you all that's come out of your mouth is hopeless riddles and weird scenarios, please, for the love of god, throw me a rope here..." I laughed, passing the bottle back to him as the train pulled into another station.

"Darling, I told you to trust me." He cooed, taking another swig. "But if you wish..."

The train doors opened, stood still, then closed again, leaving us to be the only ones in the carriage once again. "So..." I said to fill the silence. "Care to share?"

The bottle was passed back to me again as Blake puckered his lips and let out a sigh "This train has 20 minutes until it reaches Central London, which means we have 20 minutes to get as drunk as we possibly can."

"What's so adventurous about that?" I asked, slightly apprehensive.

"Have you ever ridden the underground drunk?" He asked, unapprehensive as ever.

I shook my head, confusion obvious on my cheeks. "Well, its pretty awesome." He said, urging me to take another sip.

"Again with the serial killer suspicions...you could just be getting me drunk before you, well, you know..." I shrugged, eyeing up the bottle in my lap.

Blake sat up from his slouch, knees placed on his elbows and cupping his chin. "I assure you, you can trust me." He said with certainty, and undeniable truth. 'Besides, im going to be just as drunk...i'd never get away with it."

He winked at me as a slow smile spread across my face. He hadn't given me a reason not to trust him so far, and although my phone was off, I still had it with me in case of an emergency...plus, we were going to one of the busiest stations in London, so I guess I owed him a little bit of innocence.

The sourness lessened each time I took a swig, four more stops passing by without passengers as me and Blake took turns passing the bottle and asking each other ridiculous questions. "Would you rather have noses for toes or toes for a nose?" I giggled, spilling some excess Velma down my chin.

Blake scrunched up his nose in a look of horror, sniffling a laugh behind his glassy eyes. "Definitely toes for nose...I wouldn't wanna smell whatever goes on down in my socks." He shrieked, exploding with rifting giggles which infected me from my position across the carriage.

Jeez, riding drunk did feel weird.

I haltered my giggles as best I could and leaned my head back onto the cool glass, my scalp welcoming the condensation with bliss. I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling rails, scanning my gaze across each one individually until I came to the verdict that I was undoubtedly tipsy. I was weirdly aware of the rumble between my feet and the flickering of lights as we moved from tunnel to station. It was trippy...but welcoming. I liked it. 

Song Dedication - Roaring 20s, Panic! At the Disco