the boy with the red hair

The next bus came in about 20 minutes; like hell she was going to miss this one; it was way too bloody dark. The doors to the bus were just closing when she finally reached it. She banged on the glass, her braids falling around her face, until the bus driver finally acknowledged her and begrudgingly opened the doors again. She probably-no, definitely- would have cried if the driver had decided to leave her. Aisha smiled gratefully at the driver as she tapped her pass and made her way upstairs still panting from the run.

Aisha slumped into her seat and packed her hair into a high ponytail before reaching into her pockets looking for her earphones. She paused when she realised that they were not in there and groaned when she fleetingly remembered dropping them when she had fallen down. The thought of spending a whole half an hour without any music seemed unbearable to Aisha.

Just then a boy about her age trudged up the stairs. With his music blaring from his bright green earphones, Aisha could honestly say that she heard him before she saw him. Having nothing better to do, Aisha studied him, without seeming as though she was staring of course. The unnamed boy folded his long body into the seat in front of her. The boy’s hair was the equivalent of a bird’s nest. The word unruly would definitely have been an understatement. With his ruby coloured hair (unquestionably the product of a bottle) you would undoubtedly have been able to spot him from a mile away. The edges of his hair brushed against the back of his neck. Aisha stared at the boy’s earphones in envy.

Aisha leaned forward hesitantly before beaming. She was certain that she could hear her favourite band blasting from the stranger’s earphones. Aisha tapped the boy on the shoulder. If there had been another person on the upper deck of the bus Aisha was sure that she would never have been able to talk to the fascinating stranger, but since they were alone there was no chance of anyone else being there to witness the humiliation Aisha was almost certain she was going to experience.

The boy pulled out his earphones as he turned around to flash a boyish smile at Aisha.

“Yes?”

Aisha was surprised to find that the boy was really attractive. Aisha was fascinated by his eyes. They were the prettiest eyes that Aisha had ever seen. His eyes were the colour of the churning, passionate green that the ocean turns during a storm. His eyes brought a familiar calmness to Aisha. They brought back memories of when she used to travel up to Seaham Harbour with her parents. She remembered how she and her father would watch the storms of the sea from the comfort and warmth of her bedroom with dark, rich, creamy hot chocolates that overflowed with marshmallows and heated their hands.

The memory brought tears to Aisha’s eyes, but she held them back. Instead she focused on the stranger’s plump lower lip and wondered how it would feel if they were pressed against hers.

Aisha’s train of thought was interrupted by the stranger clearing his throat. Realising that she was staring, Aisha quickly recovered and focused on his bright eyes. The stranger’s eyebrow were raised expectantly and Aisha smiled back at him.

"You're listening to my favourite song." Aisha remarked, offering to the stranger what she considered to be her most charming.

Grinning broadly, the stranger gestured to the seat beside him and offered her an earphone.