I didn't see Train Guy or the Bald Man, who I now knew as Stan, until Monday. Train Guy didn't notice me enter the carriage. I sat a couple of rows behind him on the opposite side of the train.

Stan got on at the next stop and sat beside him. They whispered fervently, then Stan drew a brown paper bag from the deep pocket of his coat. Train Guy took it and peeked inside. He put his finger in the bag, touched his tongue to taste something, then raised his eyebrows and nodded approval. Train Guy handed Stan a white envelope. He slipped it into the same pocket he had taken the brown bag.

The transaction between the two men unnerved me. I suspected I had witnessed a drug deal take place.

It disappointed me to realise such a good-looking man could be involved in stuff like that. Because Train Guy appeared perfect, I'd created an ideal image for him. It's something we do but we shouldn't. My active imagination heightens a situation for reality to crush it like gravel underfoot.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Stan go into the next carriage. The raspy voice of Nickelback's lead singer rang from Train Guy's mobile.

When I glanced his way, he was peering at me while talking into his phone. I searched my bag for a peppermint to pretend I wasn't interested but sensed he spoke about me. Perhaps someone had witnessed me see the exchange.

I put the mint in my mouth, and then casually surveyed the carriage to search if anyone else talked on a phone. The only other person was the elderly woman from the week before. Nothing sinister there.

I concentrated on the cool refreshing taste of the sweet in my mouth and decided my imagination was going crazy. Train Guy had hung up but the old lady continued her conversation.

Train Guy faced forward and flirted with an attractive brunette in the seat ahead of him. Irritation ran through me as she pretended to blush at something he said.

The woman swept hair behind her shoulder and then touched his stubbled chin with her fingers as she shook her head at something he said.

He laughed and then leaned back in his seat. She stood and took the seat beside him.

Train Guy leaned against the side of the carriage to face her. He rested his arm on the back of the seat and rubbed his finger on his temple as he had done on the day he'd looked at me. A twinge of anger pinched me.

He listened to what she said.

I huffed and gazed out of my window.

She laughed. I couldn't resist gawking at them. She had her hand on his chest. I met his gaze. My breath caught in my throat. He held my stare and then focused back on the woman. I didn't look at him again. By the time I got off the train, I hated her and any thoughts of sinister dealings were forgotten.

*

The next day, train Guy was back to wearing black. Something possessed me to sit closer to him. I wanted to see if he would acknowledge me so I took the seat opposite.

He leaned forward talking on his phone but glanced over when I sat.

I smiled but he didn't acknowledge me. Stan got on at the usual stop and sat beside Train Guy. My choice of seating wasn't a good idea.

Stan leered at me.

Train Guy flicked his eyes from Stan to me.

Stan leaned back on the seat and folded his arms. He jerked his head at me as he said, "You thought about that fuck yet?"

I stared at him in fear unable to say anything.

Train Guy's phone snapped off. He remained leaning forward as he said, "Give it a rest, Stan."

"I'm shitting with her." Stan laughed.

"She doesn't like it and neither do I," Train Guy growled.

Stan held his arms in defence. "No harm done," he said, "What's the word?"

"All good," Train Guy said.

Stan grinned then frowned and murmured, "And you're gonna sort Carson?"

"Tomorrow," Train Guy said.

Stan nudged his head, stood then went into the next carriage.

Train Guy followed him with his eyes, and then focused on me. He held my gaze for a moment, hung his head and sighed. He leaned against the back of the seat, took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, folded his arms across his chest and studied my face.

I took a steady breath, glanced away, and then frowned at him.

Cocking his head at me he said, "Don't look so scared. Stan's harmless."

I grimaced. "He doesn't seem harmless."

Before he could answer, the attractive brunette appeared and plonked herself beside him. "Hey," she beamed.

Train Guy laughed, shook his head and said, "Hey." He glanced across at me. I looked from one to the other.

She gave me this smug expression as if to say, your move bitch.

I bit on my bottom lip and focused on my fingers.

"Did you think about what I said yesterday?" she said.

"Yeah," he laughed. "It's none of your business."

She huffed and said, "So, you're choosing not to listen to me."

He said, "How many ways can I say it's none of your business."

"You could jeopardise everything," she whispered.

What a strange conversation for people who had just met the day before. Then it struck me. They hadn't just met the day before and that's why she looked at me like she did.

The train stopped. I was relieved to get off and not have to listen to anything else they might say to each other. She glared at me when I passed, but he appeared remorseful.

Oh, no. I think Train Guy might be a bad guy.

Jasmine better avoid him and his friends.

Photo copyright - Big Stock.

Words - 959