Baby Steps ✔ (Under Construction)

ONE

Zara hated being late, just the notion made her feel sick to her stomach and her anxiety was hitting her full force, like a train pummelling down the tracks. She glanced at the time on the digital clock that hung on an electronic noticeboard, 8:44AM jumped out in its bright red lettering. She tried not to notice the way the number four flickered occasionally, and tried her hardest not to obsess over it. That was the thing with OCD. Everything that bothered Zara, was always taken to the extreme. Things that were noticeable to the human eye, but didn't affect them in any particular way, but not for Zara. No, she had to obsess over them, count each time the number flickered per minute and if it was a consistent repetition, or inconsistent.

She ground her teeth at the sixth flicker, mentally tallying how in the forty-first minute, the letter only flickered four times; not six. Inconsistent, she concluded.

"This is the final call for the eight-forty-five service to London Kings Cross on platform four." The chirpy voice said over the intercom.

Zara's grip on her suitcase tightened as she wove in and around people. She saw her train a few yards away and she made it her mission to make that train because she would not be waiting another forty minutes for the next train.

The train doors hissed as they began to close, but Zara slipped between the slowly closing doors and let out a deep breath, her heart beating at a rapid pace.

She stepped towards the luggage rack just as the train began moving. A group of young girls sat in a group, huddled around one of the tables, giggling at something on one of their phones. On the other side of the aisle was a young man – no more than eighteen, she'd say, though she couldn't be sure. He held on to a small, ratty copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in his hands. His head was dipped and his auburn locks fell forward, hiding his face from everyone. He wore a big pair of black headphones that seemed too big for his head.

Zara walked on steady legs down the narrow aisle of the train carriage and looked for an open seat. There, by the window. She thought as she approached an empty seat. Usually, it was a nightmare to find a spare seat during rush hour so she thought it lucky that there happened to be one spare.

A man sat on the seat closest to the window. He was looking out the window, watching as they departed from Cambridge train station.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me." She said politely.

Slowly, the man turned to face her and frown softly. He was rather handsome, Zara thought. Dark blonde hair, coiffed perfectly and not a single hair out of place. Deep, blue-grey eyes roamed over her face before slowly drifting down the rest of her body. His gaze snagged on her breasts and a slow smirk pulled at his lips.

Hm. Maybe not so attractive, after all.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asks, noting how her skin seems to tingle in an unpleasant manner as his eyes continue to rake over her curvaceous body.

Zara fought the urge to reach out and slap the stranger around his face for being so rude, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself. She regretted wearing the new, tight fitted navy dress she had bought last week from some online shop, based in Paris. It was an expensive dress, and like the website said, it really did make her feel flawless.

Well, apart from now. She just felt uncomfortable.

"By all means." The stranger said, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

He looked pleased as Zara sat down.

She tried to ignore the way her skin crawled as he watched her. "That's a beautiful dress." He says to her and Zara tenses at how close he is.