Page 17 of Meet Me at the Metro

A regular customer greets me with a toothy grin as soon as she sets her sights on me.“Theeeo!”

“What will it be, April?”

She leans her body forward against the bar surface, purposefully positioning herself to where her tits are practically spilling out of her shirt. “Two pints of lager and a shot of you, honey,” she slurs.

“How much did you drink before coming here?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters.” I roll my eyes. I fill up a glass of water and slide it her way. I could keep serving her drinks until she’s completely shit-faced and having to crawl her way out of this bar, but I’ve got at leastsomemoralsleft in me. “Drink some damn water, April, or else you’re gonna feel like utter shit when you’re trying to remember this tomorrow.”

“Fine,”she huffs, snatching up the alcohol-free drink and managing to spill it all over herself.

“Oh, bloody hell,” I sigh.

I toss a washcloth her way and hope to God the rest of my shift doesn’t drag.

The moon and stars are out by the time I finally push my way out ofGullie’sfor the night. The sounds of a never-sleeping city and the humming of taxi cabs fill my ears as I walk down the street, each step leading me closer to Harvey and Evie’splace.

Now, Nora’s place, too.

I attempt to keep my eyes pinned on my feet and the pavement beneath them as I pass the familiar flat because I know the sight of it would only conjure up more thoughts of the newcomer, I’m assuming is probably inside.

Unfortunately, I find myself lacking self-discipline tonight. I glance up at one of the lit-up, second-story windows and hate the way I want to know what might be happening inside.

Sometimes, I miss living in B20 with my friends. Some of my core adulthood memories were made in that place. On the hard days, I longed for all the good times spent in that flat, but I never let myself linger on that truth for too long. I made the right decision when I chose to move out. Living with them made the guilt that constantly lies dormant in the pit of my stomach that much worse. I couldn’t stand the thought of my problems being just as heavy a burden on them as they were on me, so I did what I felt I neededto do.

I left.

Over time, I’ve grown more comfortable with the solitude of my new flat despite how much I miss the late-night laughter with my mates. My place is about as small as a fucking mouse hole, but it comes with its advantages, like the fact that it’s only a five-minute walk from campus.

It also carries the main essentials like electricity and water, even if the plumbing goes to shit sometimes, and hot water is limited to a 15-minute shower session. Even with those minor setbacks, the price couldn’t be beaten compared to the rent of other places in the area. Most importantly, it keeps me a comfortable distance from the people I just can’t bring myself to see, and remoteness fromsaid peoplemakes things easier in my situation.

I weave through the crowds of the tube station and quickly find my way onto a train headed for home. I lead myself toward one of the empty carriages in the back as a monotonous chiming sounds through the train. I settle down into my seat just as the doors close. Their steel barriers shut with a loud click, and I watch the remainder of the people on the platform outside dissolve into a blur as we begin to speed down the track.

As always, I do a once-over of my surroundings, quietly and carefully observing my environment and the people around me. The act in itself is a compulsion I have everywhere I go because trauma has a way of haunting you no matter how many times you’ve tried to rid yourself of its ghosts.

Morsel by morsel, I let my lingering fear and anxiety dissolve, replacing old memories with newer ones as my eyes settle on the yellow handrail in front of me.

I can’t help but snort—that clumsy girl.

She would have busted her arse had I not caught hold of her.

Fuck me.

Nora is invading my mind once again. Even something as insignificant as a damn pole is enough to conjure the idea of her up in my head.

For a second, I swear I’m starting to hallucinate because as the train makes the next stop and the doors hiss open, the devil herself waltzes right in. My eyes stay pinned on her, watching as she hurries to a seat infront of the window, two carriages down. It isn’t until her red, puffy, and glazed eyes fall on me that I find the will in me to finally look away.

I shouldn’t glance back—I know I shouldn’t—but I do.

Her back is to me now, her head hung low enough that I can’t even see her face anymore. Before I can even process what I’m doing, I’m approaching her. I don’t seem to comprehend how fucking stupid this is of me until I’m sitting in a seat directly across from her.

Nora refuses to notice me, so before I give myself time to reflect on how pathetic it will sound, I goad, “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

She finally glances at me side-long, but my stomach coils when I notice the tear rushing down her cheek before she quickly wipes it away. “Not today.”

I rest my elbows against my knees and lean forward to ask, “You alright?”

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