He shook it off with a bit of a smile, but he was soon jostled by another passenger and kind of got half turned around. And I hated that he was right there, so close, but I couldn’t talk to him, and he was wearing a grey scarf, and although I couldn’t see his shoes, I had no doubt they’d match, and it bothered me that grey was a muted, sad colour, and he was anything but.

I stood up, excusing myself to get past my seatmate. I tapped a lady on the shoulder and offered her my seat, which she gratefully took, and I squeezed my way through the aisle, apologising to everyone. But then I was near him.

“Do you mind if I stand here?” I asked.

“No, that’s fine,” he said as he turned around. He broke out in a grin but we were impossibly close, and as the bus jolted, he bumped into me. I put my hand on his arm to keep us both steady. He looked up into my eyes, a little dreamily. “Hi.”

“I couldn’t not speak to you,” I said, not exactly hating how close we were. “And our question game…”

Jordan nodded to the crew up the back. “They’ll be disappointed they didn’t hear.”

I looked over my shoulder to the back of the bus to see a few smiling faces watching us. “I think me coming to stand with you made up for it.”

Just then, the bus lurched to a stop and Jordan all but fell into me, my arm going around his back. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“Don’t be,” I whispered. “I can’t say I am.”

He shot me a look and he blushed. He swallowed hard. “I’m trying not to say anything inappropriate or embarrassing, but you’re really close and incredibly good looking, and you smell amazing.” Then he blanched, obviously not meaning to say any of that out loud. “Like that. All of what I just said. Not embarrassing at all.”

That made me laugh. “Thank you.”

He groaned. “I’m a nervous rambler, remember? And before I forget, I’d like to commend you on the Oedipus and Hamlet joke. It’s like some comedic geniuses got together and formulated a joke designed just for me. And wow, you look even better this close up.”

I laughed again. We were close, close enough that I could see some faint freckles on his nose, but the crowded bus was to blame. Or in my case, to thank. “Oh, and just so you know,” I said, “I was curious and googled soups. Did you know there are about forty kinds of cold soup? Even a cold banana soup.” I grimaced at the thought. “I have serious concerns.”

“Did they have cereal listed as a cold soup?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”