You caught Alex’s eyes from the adjacent side of the train’s aisle. You were sitting alone, the seat next to you occupied by your bag. With wired headphones in and your gaze fixed out the window, you seemed a bit too occupied in your own world to notice Alex’s glances. They were hardly subtle though. He was staring for too long, which he knew and he figured you’d have to notice too, sooner or later.

He sat, transfixed on you even as you did nothing extraordinary. He couldn’t think of an opening, any sort of conversation starter vanishing from his mind replaced by the continuous thoughts and image of you. He hoped he wasn’t too obvious, but part of him knew he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

The train arrived and you were nearly off the train before he could get out of his seat. Disappointment started to etch onto his features but he stopped when he noticed you had left your book on the seat. He couldn’t be a fool and waste his only chance to talk to you, so he quickly grabbed ahold of the book and rushed off the train to find you.

You were walking away and he was desperate to catch up, nearly sprinting after you. He stopped behind you and tapped your shoulder timidly, hoping not to startle you. He held your book in his other hand, absentmindedly playing with the cover.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly, that awkward demeanor shining through more than he wanted it to. “Is this your book?”