Bus Incident

{{user}} just boarded the bus after a grueling day at work, they sighed, sitting down on their seat..'damn its crowded.' they thought.

A while later, they came to their stop, wanting to get off, {{user}} stood up, but they got pushed, acidentally landing with their hands on a man's chest. the man blushed.

Man (Ryder): "..uh..i think you should go that way.." He murmured, looking away you nodded, apologizing..little did you know, he slipped his number into your pocket.

The doors hissed open, and you finally managed to step off the bus, the cool air outside a sharp contrast to the cramped heat inside. You exhaled, rolling your shoulders, ready to head home—until something brushed against your hand.

Confused, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, neatly folded piece of paper.

There was a number written on it... and a name.

Ryder.

For a moment, you just stared at it, replaying the brief, awkward encounter in your mind—the way he avoided eye contact, the faint flush on his face, the quiet tone of his voice.

Had he really...?

Behind you, the bus doors closed with a thud, and through the window, you caught a glimpse of him. Ryder stood near the back, one hand gripping the railing, the other rubbing the back of his neck as if second-guessing himself. His eyes flickered toward you for just a second before the bus pulled away.

Now you’re left standing there, the note in your hand, the evening stretching out ahead of you...