Broken Trains And Exposed Veins

3 | Hot Chocolates And Awkward Encounters

        I wake up to the sound of tickling hail against the glass windows and when I turn my head, I find out my head is rested on Logan's shoulder. His steady breathing betrays he is sleeping. Carefully I try to sit up straight, but something's holding me back - Logan's hand is draped around my waist. As if I'm struck by lightning, I froze in the spot, scared to wake him up and lose the touch of his hand against his burgundy sweater, which I'm still wearing. Slowly I pick my phone from the small table in front of us and check the time. An hour and a half have passed since we left the train platform. Normally I would've been home long by now, nestled in blankets while watching television.

        It's considerably colder by now in the cabin and the corners of the window are now fully covered in white flakes of snow. And clearly the storm hasn't reduced any - it almost seems like it has started to get worse. If it wasn't for school, I wouldn't have experienced all this and never had to leave the house and face the freezing cold. Suddenly I feel movement next to me, paired with some groans. Logan's awake.

        "Uh, hey," he says and yawns. His arm, which was previously draped around me, is now being pulled away so he can stretch them out. Somehow the second after he lets go of me, I already feel a cold spot forming on places he touched me.

        "Slept well?" I ask.

        "A bit, it's not exactly a five star accomodation here. You?" He grins.

        "Same," I reply, chuckling.

        All of a sudden the creaky voice we heard earlier coming out of the speakers, is back with another notification.

        "To all passengers; due to the loss of heat in the cabins, we provide free hot drinks in the café in wagon three."

        I look at Logan, who has now a smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow. Without both saying a word, we stand up and make our way to wagon three. Since our cabin is in wagon one, we don't have to walk that far. As we come through wagon two, I spot a grey-haired man wearing a fancy suit. He seems tired and annoyed by the delay and when Logan and I walk past him, he doesn't spare one glance in our direction.

        When we enter wagon three, there are around five people there. I recognize the conductor - or machinist - who brought us the bad news. Behind a small bar, a woman in her thirties hands out plastic cups of coffee, tea and hot chocolate. Unlike the grey-haired man in wagon two, she looks energetic and surprisingly happy. A large smile is plastered on her face and her eyes are sparkling. When Logan and I are the first in - the very small - line, she beams at us.

        "Hello there, young lovers, what can I get you? I've got coffee, tea and hot chocolate," as she speaks she makes bouncy gestures with her hands. Her dark blonde hair is put together in a messy ponytail and is secured with colourful clips. As she drops the word 'lovers', Logan and I look at each other with furrowed eyebrows. Do we really look like a couple?

        "Uh, we're not a couple. And we would like to have two hot chocolates," Logan says awkwardly. A faint hint of pink starts to cover his cheeks, and the same probably happens to me too.

        "Really? Well, I must say, you two look adorable together," the woman coos as she fills two plastic cups with the brown liquid. I look down, trying not to show the blush on my cheeks.

        "Uh, thanks," Logan mumbles and lets out a faint chuckle. He then grabs the two steaming cups from the counter and hands one to me, before saying, "Here you go, lover."

        Earing an 'aw' from the woman, I reply, "Thanks, lover."

        Obviously, we're just joking around, nonetheless I get a warm feeling from it. Logan and I sit down at one of the round tables in the wagon. Next to us a man, woman and a child are sitting - seemingly tired. The little boy on his mom's lap takes small sips from his drink and every now and then he lets out a yawn.

        "So, Lily, tell me something about yourself," Logan's voice makes my head turn around swiftly.

        "I'm not really that extraordinary," I argue.

        "I doubt that," he smirks and rests his head in his hands, waiting for an answer.

        "Well," I finally give in, "I'm Lily Meyer, seventeen years old. I like traveling - unless you get stuck in a train like we're now. I enjoy watching movies in bed, I'm rubbish at math, I have an obsession for vintage camera's and I have a sweet tooth. But you probably guessed that already since I practically ate half of your candy stock," I blurt out, realizing I'm rambling. Logan sends me a wide smile.

        "See? I knew you were extraordinary," Logan states, making me blush a bit with his compliment. Never has anyone called me extraordinary. I'm always the boring one, the one that never stands out in a crowd of people.

        "Still doubt it. Anyway, tell me something about yourself," I fastly say, changing the conversation to him.

        "I'm Logan Anderson, eighteen years old. A huge fan of chocolate and waffles - also in that combination, scared of clowns and a bit of a wimp when it comes to romantic movies," he sums up, letting out a few grins every so often.

        "And don't forget, you eat your chocolate bars in chunks, instead of those pre-molded squares," I add.

        "And you snore when you sleep," Logan replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

        "I do not!" I protest, even though I'm well aware of the fact I actually do snore in my sleep.

        "It's okay, every person has its flaws, my lover," Logan chuckles. Suddenly the woman who called us a couple earlier chuckles loudly and exclaims something, causing us to jump.

        "You two are perfect for each other, I swear!"