The rhythmic clatter of the train’s wheels fills the air, a steady backdrop to the soft hum of passengers. It’s a late-night route, the kind where everyone is either asleep or lost in their own world. But not him.

He’s sitting across from me, his long legs stretched out, brushing against mine occasionally. I’ve noticed him stealing glances since the station. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a book resting in his lap that he hasn’t turned the page of in minutes.

The train jostles slightly, and I feel his eyes on me again. This time, I look up, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say something?" I ask, a teasing edge to my voice.

He grins, closing the book and leaning forward. "Maybe I was waiting for the right moment."

"And this is it?"

"It might be," he says, his voice low, the kind of tone that sends shivers down my spine.

I smirk, crossing my legs deliberately, the hem of my skirt sliding up just a little. "Well, go on then."

He leans back, resting an arm on the seat beside him, his confidence palpable. "I was going to ask why someone like you is riding the midnight train alone."

"Maybe I like the quiet," I reply, tilting my head. "Or maybe I like the unexpected company."

His smile widens, and he shifts in his seat, leaning closer. "Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here."

The train dips into a tunnel, the lights flickering briefly, casting us into shadow. When the light returns, he’s closer, his knee brushing against mine, his hand resting casually on the armrest between us.

"You know," he says softly, his voice almost drowned out by the noise of the train, "this could be the start of a very interesting ride."

I raise an eyebrow, leaning in until our faces are just inches apart. "Is that so?"

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his fingers graze the back of my hand, sending a jolt of electricity through me. The tension between us is thick, the quiet hum of the train amplifying every subtle movement.

The train slows, the announcement of the next stop crackling over the speakers. But neither of us moves.

"I think I’ll get off here," I say, standing slowly and grabbing my bag.

He follows, his movements deliberate as he steps into the aisle. "Guess I’ll have to follow," he murmurs, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

We step off the train together, the cool night air hitting us as the doors slide shut behind us. The station is quiet, deserted, the perfect backdrop for the unspoken promise lingering between us.

"So," he says, his voice soft but full of intent. "Where to next?"

I smile, turning to him. "Wherever this ride takes us."