"Umm— so, why exactly where you coming to my office, or rather cubicle because I certainly don't have an office?" I say, to break the awkward silence.

We are standing side by side in an overcrowded tube, heading towards my office and sweating profusely. By God's grace I thought of applying smudge proof mascara this morning so it isn't running down my eye in trickles even if I'm melting.

"Why do I need a reason to visit your office? I'm helping you with your design, you remember?" he raises his eyebrows.

"No, you're not," I roll my eyes. "That was just a cover story to explain to Susan. It's not the truth. I don't even know you—"

"Of course you know me. I've introduced myself."

"I mean I don't know anything about you or who you are, what you do—"

"You dickhead," I add silently in my head.

"I have my business down at Oxford. I'm twenty three, single and I am just a carefree spirit that isn't trying to flirt with you. I mean business," he says without blinking an eye.

"Wow! That was an introduction? I—"

"You're speechless? Well—"

"I mean I've never heard such an honest introduction before." I admit.

"My pleasure," he has that perfect lopsided grin on his face again. I find myself noticing his lips. They're full and so damn enticing. How would it feel—? Stop there Pat, you already have a boyfriend who loves you.

I quickly try to look away but his eyes meet mine and I can feel my breath hitch! Shit! Those gorgeous cobalt are so piercing. Only if I could lose myself in those endless pools. But I break away my gaze trying to focus on anything except the eyes, a button on his shirt maybe?

I don't feel like pestering him with the purpose of his visit until we reach office. What if he's close to my boss and I manage to piss him off? It's my good luck that this man has been sent to my office. Instead I take out my phone and holding the hand bars with one hand, I manage to open my WhatsApp. I make my way through the crowd to get a bit away from him. Passengers push their way in or out and at every station the tube gets more jam packed.

I am too engrossed in my phone to care for the random zigzag game of adjusting the slightest inch of space when people board.

The train stops suddenly with a distinct metallic clang, the crowd tumbles forward with inertia. I feel myself falling forward and before I can see whom I collided with, the lights go off just at that moment and were plunged into darkness.

I have fallen into a guy in a suit and the smell of the cologne made me realise that it is Jason. I try to move, but the crowd is too thick to even budge an inch.

"Is that you, Pat?" he says softly.

Shit!

"Y...yes, it's me and I'm not being able to move. I'm so sorry —I"

"Shhh," he breathes into my ears, sending tingles down my spine, "it's okay. The lights are off. No one is seeing." I can't help breathe in his perfume and sigh. I feel him stiffen, but he doesn't draw back. I try to wriggle my way away somehow but just then shouts start to erupt from all sides as people try to clamber to the door and open it in their hurry. Someone's elbow catches my side and I yelp in pain. Two people in their hurry to get across the compartment almost knock me over.

I stagger back right into his muscled chest and this time, he wraps his arms around me. "We need to get out," it takes some time for the panic to set in in my mind but I'm already following the crowd to the gate which is still closed. "No. You'll get yourself killed in the stampede." he had an iron grip on my hand. "But?" I look at the crowd which is like angry waves, trying to break open the door. Shouts and cries of help erupt too.

Suddenly I feel suffocated, the darkness seems to be closing down on me. My ears start ringing and there starts a throbbing pain in my head which threatens to burst open my skull. "Jason," I try to call him, but no sounds come from my dry lips. I feel my entire body shaking.

"Pat, what happened?" there is a genuine fear in his voice. "You okay? Why are you shaking?"

He tries to wrap me up in his arms. "Nothing will happen. We'll be safe. It's just a minor—" But I'm not hearing him. My heart is pounding in my chest and I feel faint. I open my mouth to say to him what I feel but still no sound comes.

"Look at me, feel me. I'm here," he croons like I'm a five year old. In my panic I just grab him tighter and I can feel the warm tears running down my face, maybe drenching his expensive suit. "Tell me," he rubs soothing circles on my back, still holding on to me. "What is it?" "I—I— had a panic attack," I find my voice finally.

"Are you afraid of the dark?"

"Closed spaces," I tell between gasping bouts of breath, "I'm claustrophobic. It's okay when the place is lighted. But in the dark, the walls seem to press down on me. I can't breathe. I—"

"You don't need to explain yourself. I don't judge you. But you need to be strong. We can get out as soon as help comes."

"Don't let me go," I can't believe my own absurd demands.

"I won't," he holds me again. 

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