My Subway Love

Inspiration

Chapter One: Inspiration

Whitney

"Do you know how serious assault is young lady?" The officer asking this looked annoyed. It's not my fault the guy grabbed me. But of course they took the guy's side saying that I randomly hurt him out of the blue. I was just trying to defend myself.

Now I'm stuck in this burrito smelling police break room. I mean seriously couldn't afford a real questioning room. It's not like they don't take enough people down here. In this neighborhood they probably get dozens of people in here a day. At least half of those are arrested. The other half probably looked like they were doing something bad. The cops are very accusing now-a-days. "Like that guy walking down the street looks like he just murdered somebody!" I've actually heard that one before!

"Miss are you going to answer me?" I jumped at the officer's voice. What was I supposed to say? Oh yeah I know that assault is serious. That's exactly why I did it!

Ugh! Well I need to find out what I'm writing about. This is just crap. I mean who would read this. I can't be a writer. What am I thinking? I can barely write a short story for English. Now I'm trying to write a book, and it's about a girl who's in trouble with the police!

She is a person who is unafraid. How can I write a story about someone who I have no connection to? This girl I'm writing about assaulted someone. I can't kill a spider. She's in a bad neighborhood. I live in a three story house that sits on 2 acres, and maybe that's just it I need to experience what she's going through. Okay maybe not the whole arrested thing but, going downtown and walking around

It's only 10:23 perfect time to be out not too late for terrible things, but maybe just maybe, I'll see something inspiring. I stand up and throw my notebook across the room. Thinking is way too much work.

I should go to bed, but there'll always be that part of me calling myself a wuss if I don't do this now.

I guess I should change if I'm going out. I replace my sweats with jeans then add my leather jacket, then my beanie. Perfection.

I tell myself if I can make it downtown I won't leave until I find inspiration, but I know if I get downtown I'll probably come back the moment I get there.

As I walk down the street, about a block away from the subway now, I wonder if I'm going crazy. But I always hear that crazy people don't know they're crazy.

Suddenly I'm at the steps to the subway. Well I made it this far, what can go wrong.

Waiting for the subway, I read the walls. If I told my mom what was written down here she would be horrified. Well, actually she would be horrified to find out I was riding the subway.

She thinks by being in a vandalized, low-lit, underground area I will become a rebel child. Well I'm still the rebel child compared to my sister.

Just because I don't dress the way she wants me to. I mean who wears a dress to school every day. {Except for my sister Megan} Who gets straight A's since kindergarden? {Megan}

So basically my parents want an exact copy of their eldest daughter, but I'm not Megan! I will never be her!

I feel a sudden pain in my hand. I look down at the moon shaped crescents in my palm. Whoops! When I look up I realize I was so stuck in my own head I hadn't realized the subway was here. I get up quickly and run into the train and see that it's mostly empty.

I turn right and sit across from a guy writing in a notebook. Hmm. He's studying the page hard as if something amazing will suddenly pop up onto the paper, but there's a reason I sat across from him. He's around my age and would be a perfect character for my book. I study him, black hair that hangs on his forehead almost reaching his eyes. He also wears a purple beanie over his head. {Another reason I chose him to sit by, I trust people who wear beanies} He wears sneakers that are so torn up and written on its cute.

He's not buff, but somehow it suits him. He wears jeans with holes, that you can tell aren't manufactured, and a white graphic tee under a purple hoodie.

I realize I haven't seen his eyes yet, but as soon as I think this his eyes snap up to meet mine. They are blue, but not a dark blue, not a light blue either, but somewhere perfectly in-between.

By now I realize I've been staring waaaaayyyyy too long. He raises an eyebrow, {something I've always wanted to do} with a questioning look, but there is one thing that I know. I am inspired.

Nate

As I step onto the freshly fallen snow, I sense something different about the night. Maybe it was the desertedness of the streets. Maybe it was the world telling me to take a chance. Maybe I was imagining things, but one thing is sure, walking in that deserted, cold street made me...

...made me what, annoyed, happy, scared, what did I feel! God poetry was hard to write sometimes. With some poems it flows right out of you, but with poems like this you think you feel something. Then it just stops like some dam in your mind blocking all thoughts of what you want to think.

Hey, focus Nate! So feelings, something you're not exactly good with, but it's exactly what you write about.

Most people who hear this laugh, and say, "Nate and feelings in the same sentence. That's hilarious!" I guess I'm not the most affectionate person. It's not like I try to be though I just kind of hide my feelings. If I show them too much my mom gets worried and thinks she did something wrong. She assumes that since she's a single mom then everything is her fault, which it's not.

Well I guess tonight my feelings don't even want to tell the paper how they feel.

When the subway stops I hear footsteps, but only one set. And it sounds like running. Then the footsteps stops and shuffle a little, then come towards me.

The person sits down across from me. I can tell by the way they sit down they have nothing with them. I don't get how some people can just sit there, but then I hear a light tapping. By the way it sounds they don't realize they are doing it.

Then the foot joins in with the finger tapping. It actually becomes a melody. It's pretty, but as suddenly as it had begun it stopped. They had realized they were doing it.

As I start trying to think of one word that will sum up the whole poem, maybe this whole night, I feel the weight of eyes on me. I wait it out most people usually just pass over me quickly.

A few minutes pass and still the eyes prod me. This is weird, who would stare at me this long?

As I look up a girl is staring at me. Her dark green eyes are locked onto my eyes. I notice her black hair that goes down to her shoulders, is slightly windblown.

That means she walked outside for a while before getting on the subway. Her gray beanie covers most of her hair, makes her face standout, which is absolutely gorgeous. Her skin doesn't have a single flaw and she only has a slight tan, which is real. {Obviously not a tanning bed lover} But the real question is why is she staring at me?

She breaks the silence by asking "How do you do that?" I look at her, what is she talking about? "How do you do that eyebrow thing?" she explains. She now seems embarrassed she asked, since I didn't answer.

"Oh, um, I'm not sure I didn't even know I was doing it," now that I had answered her blush lessened.

She smiled and nodded, as if to say oh ok makes sense. I just smiled back.

Then when she looked up from studying the graffitied walls, it hit me! The perfect word to sum up this night.

The word that described how this girl made me feel. I wrote it down quickly. It was perfect. This night made me feel inspired.

~An~

Ok. This is my first story on Wattpad so please be kind! Unless it really sucks... Then you can be awful ;)

I thought of the title because most books are about summer loves. You know? So why not love in a subway? (Like the underground trains. Not the food place.)

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