The apple core was brown and spindly where she held it between thumb and forefinger, and she was about to admit defeat when suddenly, there he was, shuffling on board with his head down. After a moment his eyes swept the passengers with a kind of nervousness and paused, she thought, just for a second, on her. Ruby watched him from the side of her vision, her face turned away. Taller than she’d thought, with longish, wavy hair, dressed in a rather ill-fitting suit, Yoga Man had been waiting at the stop nearest the banks. He didn’t strike her as a banker, though: too alternative. A bead on a leather string peeped out from below his cuff, so that the impression was of a surfer who’d been to a job interview. As he passed her in the aisle, she looked straight at him, and their eyes met.

He paused. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” said Ruby, and smiled slightly, shrugging with her eyebrows before turning back to the window.

He didn’t move. “I’m so sure. You look really familiar. Do you ever go to the gym near the bypass?”

“No, not me.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounded disappointed in her answer.

“Wait,” she said, “are you saying I need to join a gym? That’s a bit rude.” Ruby straightened her dress and crossed her arms. She knew she wasn’t fat—she was far too thin, if anything, though it was true that she rarely exercised. Maybe he thought she needed to tone up.

“Of course not.” He started to stutter, and a blush rose in his cheeks. “I only meant that … I thought maybe I’d seen you around. My office is near the gym, that’s all. I didn’t mean …”

She watched him for a moment, astounded that anyone would be stumbling over their words because of something she’d said.

He went on, “I don’t even go there, myself. I hate gyms. It’s just, I just …” For an unsettling moment, she thought he was going to cry.

She placed a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay. I wasn’t offended. I was joking with you.”

The movement of the tram yanked his arm away, so that her hand hovered in the air for a beat, and they both stared at it before she took it back. He said, “I’m sorry, I don’t usually—I mean, I never … I’m just not good at talking to girls. I mean women.” He ran a hand through his hair, stared at his shoes, appeared to swallow. “I’m so sorry—I meant people.” Then he swung his bag onto his shoulder and pressed the bell for the tram to stop. Ruby wanted to grab hold of him, to make him stay exactly where he was.

“Honestly, it was nothing,” she said.