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by Gwen
Rated: 18+ · Draft · Romance/Love · #746829
Stan and Sara meet for the first time
The Greyhound traveled along the double lane highway at the speed limit while the passengers slumbered in the dark. They jostled now and then against each other as the bus bounced over uneven places in the road. Sarah stared out the window at the night and the lonesome view seeing nothing but meadows and fields and an occasional farm house. The moon hadn’t risen yet and the only light was star shine in the ink black sky. It seemed the bus was the only vehicle on the road. It could have been the only vehicle in the world from what Sarah could see out the window. She let out a heavy sigh.

The young man sitting next to her chanced a quick glance in her direction, then quickly returned his gaze to the back of the seat before him. She didn't notice. Stan thought of making a comment about the sigh, but she had politely and firmly rebuked his attempt to engage her in conversation earlier. That was too bad. She was a looker, too. He would have enjoyed spending the hours of the long bus ride in verbal sparring and looking at her pretty face. He had seen intelligence in her eyes when they met his during that polite rebuke. Intelligence and something else, too. A haunted look. Or maybe quiet anger, he didn't know. He shrugged it off. Not his problem. He had enough of his own problems without taking on a strangers. And she certainly wasn't in the mood to share, anyway. Who needed a moody female?. Stan crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes, in search of sleep that kept eluding him despite his weary body. She was too old for him anyway. He drifted, finally, into the abyss.

Sarah shifted in her seat. Her bottom was numb, and there was the beginnings of an ache in her lower back. When was the next pit stop? They had been on the road a long, long time. Didn't buses have to refuel every now and then? She needed to stretch her legs.

As if in answer to her unspoken desire, the bus slowed and began making it's way up an exit ramp to a service pavilion where there were comfort stations, fuel, and a Burger King. Great. Sarah hated fast food. What happened to the mom and pop diners that used to be dotted along the highways? Those places where you could get an almost home cooked meal and always good coffee. When Sarah was little, she often went on road trips with her parents. And some of the best things were the meals in the mom and pop diners, where there were little gift shops on the side, with unique and crafty items you could pick up for the change in your pocket. Those days were long gone. Even the rest stops on the highways were commercialized, over lit, vending machines out for the almighty buck, to heck with comfort for the weary traveler, just gemme your money, thank you very much.

As the bus came to a stop near the fuel pumps, the interior lights came on, blinding Sarah for a moment until her eyes adjusted. The driver called out, "Thirty minutes ."

Sarah stood and stretched, then turned to move out into the isle. There was that handsome young man, slumped down in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and he seemed to be asleep in spite of the ruckus of the other passengers moving out into the isle and off the bus. She stood for a moment, undecided. Then she reached out and gave his shoulder a shake. His eyes popped open, and he looked groggily around then raised his gaze to her face.

"Hmm?"

"Would you excuse me, please?"

"Mm hmm." He promptly closed his eyes and tucked his chin down on his chest and went right back to sleep.

Sarah looked at him for a moment. It didn't appear that he was going to make way for her. So, she guessed she'd have to squeeze past him. She wasn't going to waste any of her thirty minutes trying to wake up the apparent sound sleeper.

As she was stepping over his legs, the heel of her sandal snagged on the leg of his jeans, upsetting her balance. She tottered for an instant, then in an effort to regain her center of gravity, she over-corrected and toppled right onto the lap of his slumped form.

He startled with an abrupt, "Ooof", sat up and looked around in confusion.

"I'm so sorry!" she said. Her face flamed as she struggled to get off his lap and onto her feet.

"Wha….?" Stan was startled awake not entirely sure of his surroundings..

"I tripped, I'm sorry", she offered hastily as she stood up in the isle and hurried toward the front of the bus. There were hushed chuckles and giggling all around the interior of the bus.

"Trip over here next time, baby I‘ll be glad to catch you“ This from a young lad of about 16 wearing a baseball cap with a long greasy ponytail hanging out the back. He made a rude gesture with his hands, implying he’d be catching her at the bottom and squeezing.

Sarah turned. Her eyes scanned remaining passengers on the bus and fixed on the gangly teenager. She said nothing, but continued to pin him down with her stare. He obviously felt the burn and ducked his head, his face turning a mottled red. The interior of the bus became silent.

When she felt he’d been sufficiently chastened, she quickly went down the steps and headed toward the comfort stations. Only then did she allow the tears of humiliation to form. But not to fall. Never to fall. She blinked them back. Why had she decide to take the bus? She had known this wasn't going to be a comfortable trip. Why hadn't she just spent the extra money and taken an airplane? But she knew why. She knew she had to scrimp every dollar.. There was no telling when there would be more and she had to make what she had last.

Stan rubbed his eyes, and stood up. He looked out the windows of the bus and saw her heading for the restrooms. Too bad he hadn't been awake when she landed on him. He might have enjoyed it. She really was easy on the eyes with those long dark curls and her petite but generously proportioned form. He could still smell her light cologne. Just the hint of a sweet, flowery scent. He shook his head . Still, she had to be 30 or so. Good looking, but too mature for his taste. And if her glare at the foolish teenager was any indication of her personality, probably bitchy too. He made his way off the bus.


© Copyright 2003 Gwen (gzocco at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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