I hope he has to stand next to someone eating tuna on the train. Sure, my nose will be assaulted too, but it will be worth it.
I herd him to the machine to get him a MetroCard and watch (and photodocument) in amusement as he goes through the process on the screen, having to restart his purchase three times.
“Where to now, sadist?” he asks, shiny new MetroCard in hand.
I think about letting him guide us, but I don’t have three hours for him to get used to the subway. It took him long enough to pay. “This way.”
I lead him to the right platform and have to grab him by the belt to stop him from taking the local when we can save time by getting on the express. When the train arrives, I push him into the train with the rush-hour crowd.
“Why aren’t they moving to the middle of the train? There’re still more people that need to get in, and they’re pushing against.” He glares at both groups of offending people. Who are probably tourists. Locals would never.
“Soak it all in! All the smells, the scents, and the press of strangers against your body.”
“Is that the smell of a medical emergency?” Gavin covers his mouth with his hand.
As the cab gets more crowded, he moves closer to me, one arm sliding around me and the other grasping the bar above us. As the doors close and the train surges forward, I grip him around the waist to keep my own balance.
I feel his body shift to accommodate the movement, a little awkwardly at first but easier with each jerk of the train.
I have no way to give us some distance, with other passengers boxing us in on all sides. And I don’t want to. With this much movement, it feels like we’re dancing.
Maybe we should have taken the local; then there would have been even more stopping and starting. This is still nice, and it takes more willpower than I would have thought to not rub myself against him intentionally. My downstairs bits are not amused at the restraint.
I close my eyes to block out the din, inhaling the bergamot and cedar of his fancy cologne. If I can’t have more rubbing, at least I can use my other senses.
“Do you do this often?” he asks.
“Are you asking me if I come here often?” I raise my head to look at him, laughter in my voice.
He rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t respond to the question. “You have access to a fleet of company cars. Why go through this?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it can be quicker than getting around by car during rush hour, and it’s environmentally friendly. Plus it’s interesting to people watch.” I shouldn’t pretend that I always do the right thing and take the train, but I at least change it up more than this spoiled brat.
“Buy a TV.”
“It’s good for you to interact with New Yorkers; it’ll keep you humble.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
The train stays full so I resign myself to (and enjoy) snuggling Gavin in public. When our stop is near, I tug on Gavin’s suit jacket, drawing him closer to the doors. “You’re almost free of this.” I look up at him to savor the misery on his face.
But he isn’t looking around in disgust. Instead, he’s looking at me, with a half smile on his face.
I get a little lost in the blue of his eyes, as sparkling and vibrant as the Mediterranean Sea on a sunny day, my face softening into a matching smile. Gavin’s been pretty surprising this past week...surprising me with how much I enjoy being around him. And he’s handling this adventure much better than I thought he would.
I get so lost that I jump when a fellow passenger yells at us angrily. “Can you eye-fuck at home like normal people? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yup, that’s on us.” I grab Gavin’s hand and drag him out of the train.
“That’s not very ni—” Gavin begins in a stern voice to the stranger.
“Nope, we were being obnoxious.”
“He still could have been nicer about it.”
I keep Gavin’s hand to get him out of the station with minimum fuss. When we get up the stairs, I say, “You didn’t even have to meet pizza rat.”
We stop outside the station. “What a shame,” he says, no disappointment in his voice.
