Just Across the Platform

mystery man

As soon as I got to the platform I knew it was too late. I looked up at the sign annoyedly, why can't I ever be on time? I could feel people looking at me as I aggressively tapped at my screen to tell my friend that I missed the train again. Her response pinged almost instantly.

"How many times have I told you to wake up on time?"

I expected this and she was right so I put my headphones in and didn't bother to reply as I waited for the next train.

It was quite a nice day for London; the sun beamed on my back. I felt stupid as I saw women walking down the platform in shorts and t-shirts. I looked down at my own grey hoodie and jeans and frowned; I wish I wore something else. I didn't bother trying much with makeup either - my skin had got quite good and I wanted it to stay that way. I only applied moisturiser, contour and highlighter to make myself at least a bit presentable. I had little to no time this morning as sleep is always prioritised and so my hair was left naturally, the small ringlet-like curls flowing past my shoulders.
After a few minutes of scrolling through Instagram I felt a demanding presence. It was hard to explain but it was like I was being forced to look up. Just across the platform was what can only be described as a God. I squinted straight at him to get a better look and he looked up from his phone at that exact moment. Quickly I snapped my head to the side as if I wasn't at all interested in him. That was so embarrassing. When I judged it was safe to look again I sneaked a peek. He was looking back on his phone and his jet black hair fell on his forehead almost effortlessly. Even from this distance his hair looked so soft and shiny - I need whatever products he uses. I couldn't help but notice his skin was glowing and looked completely flawless. Suddenly I notice his expression and my eyebrows furrow. He's smiling at his phone and texting rapidly. Must be a girlfriend. Why wouldn't he have one, he looks straight out of a magazine. I check the time and it's 8:34, not long till my train now. Looking back to the other platform I see that he's no longer there. My eyes search for him, curious as to where he could have gone so quickly. I don't even know this man and I'm trying so hard to find him again. Thinking about how unrealistic it was to see him again, I turned my head back to face the front of the station and I froze. Sat opposite me was him. How did he get there? And more importantly, what if he saw me looking for him? No, he couldn't know that was what I was doing. Unless he was a detective. Then again, he could be, I don't know the first thing about this guy. He gives me a quizzical look and I boldly look back. His eyes are light brown in the sun and his lips quirk up, silently challenging me. I instinctively look away, just in time to see my train approaching.
I stand up and realise my palms are sweating. I can feel his eyes watching me as I press the button to get on the train and take my seat.
I looked back to where he was sat, to see he was no longer there. How does he keep disappearing like that? I decide not to think about him anymore as I glance out of the window and prepare myself for the day ahead.