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There was a model on the tube.
A’whora probably wouldn’t have even noticed her if her earphones hadn’t fallen out. Listening to Britney on her way home from work was one of the few things that made the London Underground a little more bearable. It blocked out that horrible screeching sound when the train went too fast for one, and it meant that no middle-aged white men who smelled of cigarette smoke would shimmy up beside her seat to try and talk to her. That had happened more that A’whora would have liked when she first started getting the tube daily, but she’d caught on to the earphones trick pretty early on, pretending not to hear when some greasy car salesman would try to chat her up. She had also learned to use it to her advantage. On days where the train was busy and her heels had been particularly rough on her feet, she’d look expectantly at the first man she’d see, and bat her eyes a little until he’d give up his seat for her, before popping in her earphones and pretending he didn’t exist. It worked like a charm.
But today, they’d fallen out. The wire had caught underneath her elbow and she accidentally yanked them out of her ears as she tried to change the song. She knew she wouldn’t have this problem if she had AirPods, but if she were being honest, she’d rather save up for that new Moschino clutch that she had her eye on over ridiculously priced headphones any day.
It was a good thing that they did fall out, though, because it drew A’whora’s attention to the unmistakable sound of high heels coming from down the carriage.
The clacking sounded as if it were coming closer, and that’s when A’whora looked up. Headed in her direction was a woman, a tall, thin woman, who’s long black hair reached half way to the ground. She was walking in an alarmingly high pair of black stilettos as if it were nothing, without even holding onto the handlebars as the train lurched in one direction. And she looked like she was competing for the title of ‘best dressed’ on the District Line in her insane black leather coat, though truthfully, she didn’t have much competition.
A’whora wasn’t sure if the woman really was a model, but if she wasn’t, she was making a huge career mistake.
The woman continued strutting as if she were on a runway and not the crowded aisle of the 6:30 train, before taking a seat just opposite A’whora, crossing her endlessly long legs that A’whora definitely wasn’t staring at. She knew she probably should’ve stopped looking in her direction by now, but she found that she didn’t want to.
She told herself that she respected the fashion choices, and that was all. And maybe she respected her gorgeous figure, too.
The woman pulled out her phone and started mindlessly scrolling through, and A’whora noticed how the corners of her lips would curl into a small smile every so often, and she couldn’t help but mimic the smile herself.
It was then that she realised she’d never put her earphones back in, the wires still sat in a heap on her lap. She make quick work of untangling them before popping them back into her ears. It took her a second to realise what song was playing, and she almost choked when she did.
‘If you seek Amy’. Ironic.
She felt like the universe was laughing at her.
Maybe A’whora was just lonely, or tired from a particularly draining Monday of being yelled at bye her prick of a boss, but she swore that this woman was one of the prettiest people she had ever seen. And A’whora wouldn’t think that about just anyone. She usually prided herself on her high standards when it came to things like this. Looks.
Okay, perhaps she’d fallen head over heels for a few too many women at the club after having a few too many vodka Red Bulls, and perhaps she had earned a certain nickname from her friends as a result. But drunk A’whora tended to be a little less concerned with aesthetics and a little more concerned with being pounded into a mattress.
But currently, A’whora was stone-cold sober, and she didn’t need a drop of tequila to see how gorgeous this girl was. How fucking stunning.
And it was nice to see that someone else in London had a sense of fashion.
Just then, the intercom announced the next stop, and the woman looked up from her phone. And before A’whora had a second to look away, she was met with a pair of green eyes looking directly at her.
Panic.
A’whora looked down, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed their eye contact, but knowing full well that she had. But, unable to stop herself, she looked back up, just to check.
And the woman was still staring back at her.
Green eyes piercing into her skin.
“Everything alright there?”
A’whora gulped. It took her slightly too much time to form a reply. What was that accent? Welsh? Welsh.
“Oh, um, yeah thanks,” she stuttered. Why did she thank her?
“Just enjoying the view, then?” The woman said with a smirk, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stood up from her seat.
Cocky. Well, two can play at that game.
“You could say that,” A’whora smiled. “But you seem to be doing the same.”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Can’t argue with you there, gorgeous,” she replied. And then, she winked at her.
A’whora could’ve had an aneurysm.
“I, um, I like your jacket,” she managed, flashing the girl a nervous smile.
“This old thing?” The woman said coyly, modelling her outfit. “Thank you! Made it myself, actually.”
“It’s really nice.”
“You’re too kind!’ She replied, blowing A’whora a kiss as the train came to a halt. “I’ll see you later, doll!” she called out over her shoulder as she made her way through the doors and off the train, all too quickly for A’whora’s liking.
She was gone. And yet, A’whora was still smiling. She smiled for the rest of the journey home.
***
Tayce hated the tube. With a passion.
She had decided not long after she’d moved to London that the London Underground was not for her. She hated the crowds, she hated how humid it got, she hated how dirty it was, she hated those buskers who’s sing awful renditions of Ed Sheeran songs at every station, hated it all. She’d decided that she’d rather get a taxi to wherever she needed to go over getting the tube any day. And if she went bankrupt as a result, she would just have to live with that.
What she didn’t hate, however, was the pretty blonde girl who had sat across from her on the tube.
She hadn’t even intended to go on the tube that day. But she was in a rush, and her taxi-app had told her that a driver wouldn’t be available for another half an hour, and so she decided she would suck it up and take the tube, just this once.
And then she saw her.
She nicknamed her blondie in her head, the girl with the pouty pink lips and the doe eyes who kept glancing in her direction. The girl who couldn’t have made her staring more obvious if she tried.
Tayce was flattered, really. She would be lying if she said that she hadn’t caught someone staring at her before, but typically they were the type of person that she didn’t want to stare back at. This girl was different, tough. She was utterly stunning.
And, naturally, Tayce took the opportunity to flirt a little bit.
And the girl flirted back, if you could call it that.
And soon Tayce started thinking that maybe the tube wasn’t so bad. And so she took the tube again the next day, just to see if the girl was there again, which she was. And the next day. And the next.
And Tayce found herself falling for her a little bit more every day.
***
It was raining.
A’whora had forgotten her umbrella. Of course she had. Today of all days, when storm something-or-other had decided to hit just as she got out of work. Storm Emma? Eva? She never understood why they’d started naming storms in the first place. Or why all their names were so mundane. Ophelia had been interesting, but they’d never gotten more creative than that. She’d been patiently waiting for a storm named after her, but she supposed she was already enough of a storm without the weather to back it up.
A storm named Aurora, not A’whora, of course. She didn’t think BBC News would approve of that nickname.
Regardless, storm E-something had A’whora drenched, shivering, and at the end of her tether by the time she got the tube station. She’d ran half way across London in the lashing rain against a wind strong enough to blow her to Lithuania, in an outfit which was certainly not waterproof.
When her train arrived, she almost collapsed onto the nearest seat, grateful that it didn’t seem to be too crowded. Most people probably hadn’t ventured into town with weather like this. She took a moment to catch her breath, before turning around to check her reflection in the window behind her. To say she was drenched would have been an understatement.
Her makeup was dissolving from her face, mascara crumbling under her eyes, and the fabric of her blouse clinging to her arms in a way that managed to be both unflattering and uncomfortable. And, worst of all, her hair, which had been styled to a tee that morning, was completely ruined. The strands that weren’t matted to her forehead were tangled in every direction, and already turning frizzy.
She sighed. Just perfect.
She set about fixing her hair in anyway she could, running her fingers through her parting and smoothing down the flyaways, but ultimately saw her efforts as futile. Her hair situation was too far gone. Unsalvageable. The makeup was something she could touch up, though.
She started by gently smoothing over her filled-in brows, before she ran a finger tentatively along her lash line, trying to get rid of her smudged mascara. She could’ve sworn this mascara said that it was waterproof on the bottle. What a waste of money.
Lips were next, and she rifled through her handbag for the spare lipgloss she had tossed in that morning. She pulled out the tube of pink and puckered up at her reflection, glazing her lips and smacking them together a few times just for good measure, pouting at her reflection in the glass.
And, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone else’s reflection in the window, someone who was standing just a few metres down the carriage. Someone who’s reflection was staring right back at hers.
It was that girl again. The model. The one who had become a regular on her journey, and the one that A’whora happened to find incredibly attractive.
And A’whora looked like a drowned rat. Just her luck.
The woman raised her eyes in acknowledgement when the two made eye contact, a way of saying remember me?, which of course, A’whora did. She wasn’t easy to forget.
“You okay?” she mouthed.
A’whora turned around to face her and shook her head, sticking out her lower lip in a pout and holding up a fistful of her soggy hair.
The woman’s face broke out into a grin, chuckling softly. Then, she swung her handbag off of her shoulder and began rummaging around, before pulling out a black umbrella, bone-dry and still folded up.
She tossed it across the aisle to A’whora, and A’whora thanked her lucky stars that she caught it.
“Don’t worry, it’s a spare one,” the woman said. “You can keep it, if you want.”
A’whora’s face lit up. “I- thank you so much!”
“Don’t worry about it, darling” she grinned. “But next time bring your own! Or at least wear something warmer, Jesus Christ.”
A’whora mock-frowned. “You don’t like my dress?” She said, running her hands down the front of her red mini-dress which was dotted with raindrops.
“Oh I love the dress, but not when it’s minus twelve outside. Don’t come crying to me if you die of hypothermia.”
A’whora couldn’t help but laugh, her heart doing a somersault at the grin that broke out on the woman’s face.
But her heart sank again at the familiar feeling of the train coming to a halt, knowing they’d arrived at model-girl’s stop.
All good things must come to an end, she supposed.
As the woman hopped off the carriage and on to the platform, A’whora did her best not to show her disappointment on her face as she nodded to her through the window. And as the tube pulled out again, she sighed, fumbling with the umbrella in her lap. She smiled.
At least she’d get home semi-dry now.
***
Tayce was proud by nature.
So, if you asked her why she had started dressing in her best clothing every day just to go to work, she’d probably tell you that she was doing it for herself, and definitely not for the blondie on the tube who had taken an interest in her clothing.
She had been getting the tube to and from work consistently for about three weeks now, and almost every day the girl was sat in her usual spot at the back of the carriage, legs crossed and earphones in. And almost every day they’d exchange a few words, and she’d compliment something Tayce was wearing.
And Tayce would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy trying to one-up her outfit each day.
She wondered if blondie worked in the fashion industry. Clothing was obviously of importance to her, and she always looked immaculate, perfectly styled dresses and jumpsuits with all of the matching accessories. Tayce was no expert, but she could recognise expensive pieces when she saw them, and she swore that she’d seen the signature red soles of Louboutin heels on her feet once or twice. She wondered where someone so young would get the money for such extravagant purchases, but that was a question for another day.
Nevertheless, Tayce tried her best to choose outfits to impress her, and it became sort of a game. Seeing what new combinations she could put together. And she liked it, taking a little more time to get ready in the morning and play around with her style.
She liked how much money she was saving by taking the tube, too.
She just wished that she could talk to the girl for longer. She didn’t get to talk to her every day, and even when she did it was only for a minute of two a most. It always took a little bit of time for the two of them to notice each other, and a little more time to find an excuse to talk to one another, and after a few exchanges of words, the tube would have already pulled into Tayce’s station.
Tayce still didn’t even know what her name was, for Christ’s sake.
Even when they weren’t talking, though, Tayce didn’t mind watching her.
One day she was chattering on the phone, giggling at someone named Ellie at the other end of the line, and Tayce noticed the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.
Another day she was snacking on a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, breaking off squares one at a time and popping them into her mouth, and Tayce thought it best not to interrupt such a sacred experience.
Another day their train was oddly busy, and both of them were left without a seat and spread to opposite ends of the carriage, barely even able to give each other a nod of recognition.
One day, though, the girl was crying.
Tayce almost didn’t notice at first. From across the aisle, it looked like she was laughing at something on her phone, or had maybe gotten a bad cold. It was only when she raised her head a little that she saw that her mascara was smudged underneath her eyes and her face was flushed and her cheeks damp with tears. She was crying, alright.
And Tayce was left with a debacle. She felt like she should probably go and say something, ask if the poor thing was alright, but at the end of the day, she barely knew her. Plus, it was an unspoken rule to not cause a commotion on the tube, as even a few words at too loud a volume would cause scowls from passengers in a six mile radius. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to strike up a conversation too, seeing she had no idea what was wrong.
But Tayce wasn’t about to just ignore her, not when she was in such a state. She wasn’t that heartless.
So, she made her way to an empty seat she and sat down beside her.
She stayed quiet for a moment, not entirely sure what to do or say, but she gave the girl a sympathetic smile when she glanced her way. The girl fidgeted with her hands, her head hung low and her chest jumping with ragged breaths as silent tears rolled down to her chin.
If she were anyone else, or anywhere else, Tayce would have thrown her arms around her, hugged her and held her until she felt a little better. But, she was on the tube, and she didn’t know this girl all too well, and so she settled for handing her a tissue that she fished out of her coat pocket.
The woman accepted it was a sad smile, dabbing it gently under her eyes with shaky hands. Tayce watched as she tried to settle herself, taking a few deep breaths and unsuccessfully trying to blink back the tears kept forming in her eyes.
Tayce didn’t know what was wrong, but she could tell that she was hurting, a lot.
After a few minutes of quiet, otherwise known as a few minutes of Tayce inwardly panicking about what she should do or what she should say, if she should say anything at all, her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the intercom, the train coming to a sudden stop.
“Good evening everyone, this is your driver speaking. I am sorry to inform you the we will be delayed to our arrival at Richmond Station as we’re stuck behind a broken-down train in the tunnel just in front of us. I am not sure how long we’ll be, but I’ll keep you updated.”
The audible groan of the passengers followed, complimented by the shaking heads of businessmen and tired mums with toddlers alike. Tayce would have been more bothered if her mind wasn’t in another place, and the girl beside her didn’t react at all, as if she was numb to the world around her.
“I suppose we’re stuck here for a bit, then,” Tayce began a little awkwardly, unsure how to go about beginning a conversation.
“I guess so,” blondie replied, offering Tayce a weak smile as a rogue tear trickled down the side of her nose.
Finally seeing a moment to ask, Tayce took her chance. “Are- are you okay? I noticed that you were a bit upset. You obviously don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask.”
The girl heaved out a jagged breath, averting her eyes. “I’m alright, thank you for asking. Just got a bit of bad news today, but I’ll be fine.”
Tayce frowned. “Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that. I don’t want to pry into your business, but if there’s anything at all I can do-“
“I lost my job,” she blurted. She looked at Tayce, uncertainty behind her eyes, and Tayce gave her a small nod, trying to tell her that she was here, that she would listen, that she wouldn’t judge.
“I’m sorry.”
The girl sighed. “It’s okay. I probably should’ve seen it coming anyway, my boss hated me,” she said, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s just a shit feeling.”
“I know, believe me. But I mean, if it makes you feel better, I’ve been sacked loads of times and I’m doing alright.”
“What do you work as?” The girl asked, starting to look a little more alive.
“Oh, I’m a model,” Tayce smiled proudly. “Not like a proper runway model though, just done some catalogues here and there, and some skincare stuff. And I work in Superdrug whenever I’m not booked.”
“I knew you were a model,” the woman grinned, looking Tayce up and down, with something in her eye that Tayce couldn’t quite decipher. “I mean, I should know, I work for a fashion label. Well, worked, past-tense.”
Tayce hummed in sympathy. “Do you wanna talk about it? I mean, we have the time.”
“I think if I talk about it I’ll just start crying again,” the girl nervously giggled. “But, um, thank you, that means a lot. It’s nice to know that somebody cares.”
Tayce felt her heart in her throat at that, staring back at the girl with eyes full of pain and full of hope. She was putting on a brave face for her.
Tayce didn’t know what to say. And so, she did what felt natural.
She tenderly reached her hand beside her and took the girl’s hand in her own, her thumb tracing over her knuckles.
Neither of them looked at each other, and neither of them pulled away. They sat comfortably in a silence that said far more Tayce was able to express, fingers interlocked, breathing in tandem. And for a moment, nothing else in the world existed. Peace.
Until the girl leaned into Tayce’s side, placing her head onto her shoulder, and set off grenades inside her stomach.
Tayce looked down at the girl on her arm, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fluttering, her lips slightly parted. She could trace the stains of tears on her cheeks like a map. But the ones falling form her eyes had seemed to stop, for now at least. Tayce hummed softly, and ran her free hand through her hair, fingers streaming through silky blonde locks. And, when the girl opened her eyes again she was smiling, and this time the smile felt genuine.
After a few moments, Tayce heard her speak. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving Tayce’s hand a squeeze.
“It’s okay, darling, don’t worry,’ she said, her voice hushed as she played with her hair. “It’s not like I had anything better to do, anyway.”
With that, blonde broke out into a laugh, hitting Tayce playfully on her shoulder. “Cheeky bitch,” she murmured with a sniff. Tayce smirked, relishing in the way the tone of the interaction had changed so easily.
“Oh, fuck,” the girl started, “I’ve just realised that I don’t even know your name, and here I am crying onto your shoulder on the fucking District Line.”
Tayce burst out laughing, her smile infectious. “I mean, I’ve had worse experiences on the tube. Once I watched a man eat a Tescos pasta salad with his bare hands. It was rank.” The two laughed, faces creasing in a strange fusion of disgust and amusement. “Well, my name’s Tayce, if you really want to know.”
“Tayce. That suits you, you know. I’m Aurora.”
Tayce smirked. “And Aurora suits you as well.”
“Why, because I look like a princess?” She questioned, batting her eyelashes.
“No, because it’s the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard.”
The girl gave and exaggerated gasped, jaw practically hitting the floor. “Oh I was right, you are a cheeky bitch,” she laughed. “Well I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that no one really calls me that, other than like, my parents.”
“Then what do they call you? Cinderella?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Actually, my friends call me A’whora, and no I’m not telling you how I got that nickname, and no, you do not have permission to call me that.”
‘You know, I think I might call you A’whora.”
‘Don’t you dare!”
“So, A’whora,” Tayce teased, “are you sure you’re not gonna tell me how that name suits you?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Tayce wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Well if you’re not gonna tell, me maybe you can show me,” she joked, sending the pair off into more giggles.
“Name a time and place, doll,” A’whora winked.
Tayce froze. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
A’whora bit her lip. “I mean, I’m kind of serious,” she smiled. “Who wouldn’t want to date you? You’re gorgeous. And that accent? Ugh, lush.”
Tayce smiled, tossing her long locks over her shoulder. “Who me?” she said all bashful, unable to stop herself from grinning.
“Don’t play dumb” A’whora replied with a roll of her eyes.
“Well then, how does dinner sound? When are you free?”
A’whora’s face lit up with excitement. “Well, since I’m unemployed, I’m free pretty much from now until the end of eternity,” she laughed. “But I might be able to fit you into my schedule this Friday?”
“Suits me, doll,” Tayce said with a wink.
“As long as you’re paying.”
Just as Tayce was about to protest, she was interrupted by the unintelligible sound of the intercom and the train started moving again, much to every other passenger’s delight.
But all too soon they were coming to a halt again as the train pulled into Tayce’s station.
The two had hurriedly exchanged phone numbers and Instagram handles before Tayce enveloped her in a bear hug and hopped onto the platform, just before the doors closed. Awhora blew her a kiss through the window, and Tayce couldn’t seem to get rid of the smile that was plastered on her face for the whole walk back to her apartment.
And the next Tayce was on the tube, she was joined by a pretty blonde girl who was hanging off of her arm, on their way to their first date.