From Angie to Brooky

Angie likes Brooky, but she doesn't realize it yet.
Brooky's in love with Angie, but he doesn't know it yet.
At first they hate each other, then they fall in love. And they don't know it yet.
This is their story.


5. Angie

I stare at my reflection in the train window and push up my glasses. My eyes are grey and I have short, curly black hair. My glasses make my eyes look smaller than they are, but yet again, I have pretty big eyes. I look older than my age. I try to fantasize what life in France will be like...

"Ow!" I hear someone yelp near me. Diagonally to my left is the guy who was late for the train. He had tripped when he tried to sit in his seat. 'Loser...' I think. Trying not to be spotted I sink deeper into my booth and pull out a book to read. How long is this trip again--

"Mind if I sit here?" I jump and whirl around. It's the guy. (Okay, you probably want a description of his face or something, but honestly I didn't pay attention to that, but I'll try to recall him as best as I can...he had honey blonde hair and brown eyes...he was tall...ah...yeah, that's all I've got.) 
     Immediately I say, "Yeah, I really do." He frowns, then lets out a chuckle. "Well, you're charming," he says as he sits himself down. I stare at him for 10 seconds then say, "Um...excuse me...did you not hear what I said?"
     "Oh, yeah, most definitely," he said casually.
     I'm taken aback. "Then why don't you go?"
     "Cause I don't feel like it. And those old ladies are staring at me. I hate old ladies," he says with amusement.
     Okay that's mean. "Then can you sit in that seat over there?"
     "Why? Why can't I sit here, kid?"
     "Cause...because...I feel like being alone, okay? I'm not gonna entertain you, so you might as well leave now. I don't want you here. Back off." Yeah, that's it, tell 'em.
     "Well, isn't that rude of you." The look of amusement leaves his eyes. "I won't talk to you kid. And it's okay to say that you're just waiting for your mother to come."
     "Shut up."
     "Kid, how old are you, 16, 15, 14, you're a 7 year old girl who's afraid your mommy's gonna get mad at you cause you're sitting with a stranger."
     "Shut up! I came on my own!"
     "Oh, kid, you don't--"
     "Stop calling me kid, I have a name, ya know."
     "Cool, I do too. Is yours Kid?"
     "For the last fricking time, shut up! My name is Angela! And I'm not gonna call you by your name, whatever the hell it is!"
     "It's Brooky. Not very nice to meet you, Angie."
     "Brooky, is that, what, a girl name--and who gave you permission to call me Angie?!" No one calls me Angie anymore.
      Okay, I just wanna point out again that after, what, 2nd grade, I NEVER thought of Brooky again. No one reminded me. No one mentioned him. So I didn't know who he was.
     Suddenly Brooky starts laughing. "What?" I say, pushing up my glasses. "Why are you laughing?"
     "You said you weren't gonna entertain me, but you are! And I'm loving this! Stay true to your word, kid!"
     I sigh as he keeps laughing. When he stops, I say, "Can you please leave? I don't feel well..."
He watches me. "Fine..." Brooky leaves the booth and goes far into the train. I turn and watch the trees go by. And push up my glasses.


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