We’ve got three more days on this train – we can’t piss off the staff, and we don’t want the other passengers getting annoyed with us. Annoyed people tend to be nosy people, and I don’t want any of them sticking their beaks into our business. This is my and Carrie’s trip. I need to keep it going, keep it fun – or else she’ll tell me she’s heading off on her own, and to be honest I’m not sure I can take another rejection so soon after Sam.

I checked his Facebook again when Carrie was in the toilet. I couldn’t help myself. He looks happy, as always, and I feel small angry feet stamping across my heart.

Carrie pulls away from me and slumps onto her bunk. She’s in a worse state that I realised. I definitely didn’t plan this. She curls herself onto the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself safe in the foetal position.

Does she think I would hurt her?

I pull a small bottle of water out from under the table by the window and lay it on the bed beside her head. She’s already snoring quietly, and I could kick myself at my own stupidity. I wanted to talk to her tonight about what happened between us. I know she’s been trying hard to avoid it, but the chemistry is there. That fizzing, squirming feeling deep below – transferring itself from me to her and back again, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. I close the door, and lock it, then I slowly undress – never taking my eyes off her as I peel off my clothes and let them fall to the floor.

Then I start on hers. Even more slowly, even more carefully. She barely stirs. She’s completely out for the count. This wasn’t what I had in mind at all, but I take a moment to stroke the soft skin of her naked back, down to the curve just above her perfect, pert buttocks. A sprinkling of goose pimples flit over her skin, and I know that she can feel my touch. She can sense me. She knows that I’m here.

Watching her.

Longing for her. I stay like that for a long time, and then climb into my own bunk, and pull the cool sheet up over my chest. My breathing has quickened, and the butterflies are beating faster, faster, further and further down my body. I slide a hand under the sheet. Carrie lets out a small moan, and I close my eyes, aching now. Desperate for release.

When is she going to realise that I love her?

To: [email protected] [DRAFT]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: Choo-Choo(n)!