Public Transit, Private Panic

Until that morning, public transit was something that Gary didn't put a lot of thought into. After that morning's commute, though, he decided that he hated it.

It was crowded when he stepped on, just behind Wyatt, being careful to give her enough space so as to not accidentally touch. The view from behind as she climbed on was heavenly, her red leather dress riding high, giving Gary a view of his dreams. Either Wyatt was unaware of the bottom of her butt cheeks being exposed, or she was entirely comfortable with it. By the way she was moving her ass as she stepped onto the bus, he guessed it was the latter.

Every seat but one was full as the pair stepped on. Near the front of the bus, there was room for both of them to sit, but Gary wisely chose to stand while Wyatt took the seat, crossing her legs sexily, idly playing with her hair as she looked out the window. There was a moment of quiet before the bus began to move, Gary's eyes wandering over Wyatt's body, wondering how it was that men weren't throwing themselves at her feet. She was, he had to admit, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And yet not one person batted an eye at her. It wasn't as if she was invisible, it was that she seemed to be so utterly mundane that she was unremarkable.

Then the moment slipped by. Conversations on the bus started up, the doors hissed closed, and the huge diesel engine began to roar. Normally the ride into school was without a fuss, but something seemed to have happened to the route overnight. Every few seconds the driver ended up swerving, hitting a bump, or slamming on the brakes. Standing, as he was, in high heel shoes, Gary found himself constantly stumbling, usually toward his sitting friend.

A pothole, one large enough to cause the bus' front end to make an ugly clunking noise, **** Gary to grab the overhead rail with both hands just to keep upright. The motion sent his pleated skirt swishing around his thighs, which earned him an appreciative whistle from somewhere behind him. He ignored it. He ignored everything. He had to. It was taking every bit of concentration to keep him from falling flat onto Wyatt's lap.

Another bump, another lurch. A guy he recognized from school stumbled into him, palms landing on Gary's hips, pushing his groin into Gary's rear end, shoving him even closer to Wyatt.

"Sorry, Lisa!" the kid blurted, cheeks red, letting go of his hips and scrambling through the crowd, embarrassed at being so forward.

Wyatt looked up at him, sympathy in her eyes, but also... hunger? Gary didn't let himself think about that. Not with the hunger he felt himself constantly threatening to bubble to the surface.

A sudden swerve. Gary pitched forward. Wyatt gasped and jerked out of the way just in time, pressing herself flat against the window as Gary swung like a decorative bus ornament, heels skidding on the floor.

"This is ridiculous," Gary hissed, regaining his balance. "Is it the driver's first day on the job?"

Wyatt smirked. "Maybe the universe is trying to kill us."

"Not funny."

"Little funny."

When they finally staggered off the bus, Gary felt like he'd survived a low-budget stunt show. Placing one foot in front of the other, taking each step carefully, he realized that his balance had never been better. Walking in heels seemed like a breeze after staying on his feet while careening back and forth.

As they crossed, the school courtyard was already alive with activity. Students poured inside like a herd of caffeinated cattle. Gary stuck close to Wyatt but kept a careful half-metre gap between them, which was harder than it sounded when the hallway was packed shoulder-to-shoulder.

Then a shove from behind sent Gary stumbling toward Wyatt.

Wyatt jerked left.

Gary jerked right.

Two girls passed them as they steadied themselves. "Cute dance, Lisa," one giggled.

"I'm not—" Gary started, then gave up.

The hallway bottle-necked near the main stairwell. Bodies pressed from all directions. Everyone seemed to be brushing against him: boys bumping his hips and apologising in ways that made his skin crawl, girls grabbing his sleeve to compliment his "outfit," a teacher asking him to "move along, young lady."

Wyatt stuck nearby like a bodyguard made of sex appeal and poor impulse control. Close, but not so close as to risk touching.

Then yelling erupted ahead.

"FIGHT!"

Looking around, Gary could see no sign of the aggressors, but the crowd held the frantic energy that he had come to expect during a fight. Wyatt, too, seemed to be looking around to find out what was happening, when the crowd surged like a tide. Gary was shoved forward—hard. Wyatt was shoved from the opposite direction.

Straight toward each other.

Their hands flung out. For one terrifying fraction of a second, they were centimetres from touching. Wyatt's eyes widened. Gary stopped breathing.

In a quick thinking moment, Gary watched as Wyatt threw herself to the ground, her red leather dress riding up so high that her entire rear end was exposed for any onlooker. With the extra room, Gary was able to step over her and let the crowd continue to push him past her, past the danger of sparking again.

"Wyatt! Are you okay?" Gary called out, now a few feet away.

"I'm fine," Wyatt answered, "but what the hell is going on?"

"This can't be a coincidence," Gary answered, pushing for an open spot on the floor, ignoring the football player that just copped a feel. "The world is trying to **** us to touch each other."

Once Gary was free of the throng, he looked around and saw that Wyatt was back on her feet, moving along the opposite side of the hallway, ensuring that she was keeping a good distance away. Across the chasm of the hallway they stared at each other, dazed by what had just happened.

Gary ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should've just stayed home today."

Wyatt laughed, a soft, shaking laugh. "Yeah. Maybe."

They exchanged a look. Not flirty. Just exhausted.

The moment stretched into something charged. Something dangerous. Gary tore his gaze away first.

"We'll meet at lunch," he said quickly.

Wyatt nodded. "Okay."

She lingered a second longer than necessary before she turned and left. Being alone didn't help. It let Gary notice everything.

Every guy who looked at him like he was hot.

Every girl who smiled at him like he was just one of them.

Near a bank of lockers, three girls in matching tennis skirts filmed a choreographed TikTok dance while their fourth friend recorded. They moved in sync, all hair flips and hip pops.

Gary tried to skirt around them unnoticed, but one of the filming girls spotted him.

"Lisa!" she called. "Want to be in our next one?"

"I—no, thanks," he said, ducking his head.

Before he could escape, a guy leaning against the lockers lifted his chin at him. A smirk played on his lips.

"You got a TikTok, Lisa?" the guy asked.

Gary stiffened. He didn't answer.

The guy winked like he was being charming. "I'd follow you. Bet you post some fire thirst traps."

Gary blinked. "I do not—"

"Hey, no judgement. I'm into it."

Gary fled.

He didn’t breathe properly again until he turned a corner and leaned against the cool wall, pressing a shaking hand to his face. He hated this. Hated the clothes, the attention, the constant wrongness. But most of all he hated how little control he had over any of it.

He needed money to get the rig fixed.

He needed Wyatt's guy to come through.

He needed—

Gary stopped mid-thought.

Something clicked.

A tiny idea. A seed. Ridiculous, humiliating… but maybe profitable. Maybe exactly the sort of thing the universe wanted him to consider.

He swallowed hard.

No. Absolutely not.

...probably.

The bell rang.

Gary pushed off the wall and headed to class, the thought quietly blooming in spite of everything.