The last thing you wanted after a long day of work was to be crammed into a train cart of sweaty people.

Yet there you stood, some man’s armpit three inches from your face.

Looking for an escape, you looked to your right and found what you were looking for: a tall, sturdy man intensely focused on the book in his hand.

Before you could fawn, the train halted abruptly, sending you flying face first into his broad chest. An arm snaked around you, steadying you, “I’ve got you, love.”