Ignorance is bliss

[3] Skinhead love affair

Skinhead love affair - Bad manners

I suppose, romantically speaking, our third meeting was our best date. We never had a 'proper' date, but I feel as if we never really needed one. The second time we met, I had been out with a small group of friends, and missed the last train. Not wanting to spend £20+ on a taxi, I decided to wait out for the morning train.

The screeching of the tracks had me awake, and I peeled open my eyes, but the new arrival was on the other side of the platform, so I slept some more. The same happens twenty or so minutes later, however the train would only take me south, in my short period of awakeness, I realize that my drunken veil has left me, leaving behind only a semi-drunken haze. For some reason, I also find myself in quite a good mood.

The next time I hear the familiar screeching, I find it much more difficult to arise from my sleep. I assume it was because, sometime inbetween the last train and the current one, a person had sat down next to me and I had snuggled my head onto them.

"It's not your train, you dont need to get up," I immediately recognised the voice, it was very distinctive, a mixture of gravely and deep. However, with recognising it, I could also pin it to a face, the face of a guy I'm not too keen on. Despite finding myself waaay into the close space of a guy I all but hated, I couldn't find it in my drowsy state to come up with even one insult. Deciding it was best to stay where I was for a bit, it was comfier than the wall after all, I allowed my frame to fall slack again.

'Come one, this one's ours." I felt Pup get up, and I shivered at the sudden loss of heat. "Come on, we'll miss it at this rate,"
I try really hard to move my body, but I remained trapped in a state of drowsyness that I just couldn't shift. I heard footsteps away, then they stopped. "Oh fuck," the footsteps returned and I found myself dragged up to standing and slung over a shoulder. I could only muster up a small groan of resistance. Why was I so tired?

A rattle sounded and I managed to finally open my eyes. From the fast paced surroundings I determined we had travelled about half the journey home. Realizing that I was still slouched upon Pup, I pulled my body up straight. I turned my head and we made short, silence fuelled eye contact. I gave a small nod, and took in his appearance. Unlike before, he had grown a bit of scruff, and I hated to admit that it suited him quite well. He was also looking quite smart, donning a crisp white Ben Sherman shirt, rolled over neatly at the sleeves, burgandy braces, and a pair of grey slacks like I had preciously seen him in. "Where have you been?" I asked, while gesturing to his clothes. "Just out and about, why? Do I look smart?" I could only give a defeated nod in reply.
He nodded back to me, "You look good today," I had on a black dress, and had my hair down for once, which I am sure I will regret tomorow when I try to brush it. "Thanks,"

A couple minutes slip by without any conversation, but it is not too awkward. As I glance absent mindedly out the window, I allow myself to accept heavy slumber once more.

Do you know when you wake from a nap, are really pissed off, can't even open your eyes and just resent any noise that woke you in the first place? That's me now. My stomach is aching as a bony shoulder is shoved in it, and my body is slack against Pup's. I feel a slap on my arse and I mustle up the biggest kick I can given my half sleeping state. "Finally, where are your keys?" I can only answer in my head and start to drift again....         To this I recieve another slap. I let out an undecipherable mumble, followed by a barely audiable "Pocket."
"Which pocket?" After a solid minute with me not replying I can feel my jacket being pulled off. It's a miracle really I haven't already fallen from his grasp. I assume he starts rifling through my pockets as my support starts to shake and I strum up enough energy to grip the back of his shirt. After a string of "which fucking pocket," and similar phrases, I feel a hand shove down the front pocket of my dress. This nearly through me of due to his force and the fact it tipped me almost over, but all is well when I hear the jingle of metal.

I am almost winded when I am woken-again- by being all but thrown down onto a bed. "What the dick was that for!" but my anger is short lived as my sleep eats md up again.