NOELLE

"Finally, a whole day off," I tell my mom on Facetime as I finish putting my mascara on in the mirror.

"You work too hard Elle," she says. She's called me that for as long as I can remember.

"It's good for me," I say.

"I can't wait to see you," she says.

Her eyes are watching me, her smile warm and loving as it always is. The kitchen timer begins to blare.

"Oh, the muffins!" she says.

Even though I'm not there I can smell them. My mind will always remember the scent of her baking in the morning.

"I'll let you go. I love you," I say.

"I love you too."

Saint: U up?

Me: Yep

Saint: meet me

Me: when?

Saint: 10 minutes enough time?

Me: Depends where

Saint: Outside

I'm hoping he's got some free time today because I have an adventure I'd love to take him on. The curtains swat to the side as I peek out the window. I don't see his car.

Me: ok

My gloss slides on my lips as I walk down the steps and to the walk outside my apartment. I tuck it back into my pocket and check to make sure I have my debit card in there as well. I'm not bringing a purse today, only my ID and bank card. It's safer that way.

I see him, his tall, muscular body cruising towards me on a bike. It's an interesting mode of transportation from a guy that has a BMW. I'd love to have one myself. It would make my life easier and my trip to work and campus quicker.

"New wheels?" I ask.

"Do you like them?' he asks me.

"That's a girl bike," I tell him. Pointing out the way the bar between his legs swoops down instead of going straight across.

"I would hope it is," he says. His leg easily lifts over the seat as he gets off.

I watch his expensive sneakers smoothly glide the kickstand to the ground.

"Tada!" he says.

Saint's arms fly open and he smiles brightly at me. It takes a minute for me to realize this is my gift.

"Saint, no. It's too much." I shake my head and take a step away.

"That's against the rules we never created. Imaginary rule number two-oh-eight. One can't deny a gift. Sorry." Saint shrugs and crosses his arms as if that settles it.

"Well rule one-oh-five clearly states it can't be more than one hundred dollars," I tell him. If he can make up rules then so can I.

"Bullshit. I would have never agreed to that," he says.

Shaking my head, I can't help but laugh. "Fine."

"I win today," he says confidently. "I can see that smile. You're happy."

Saint's fingers tuck beneath my chin and lift it so he can look into my eyes.

"Yea," I agree, partially melting under his touch, "I'm happy."

"Good!" he exclaims. He pumps his fist in victory. "I win."

"I haven't even had my chance today," I defend.

"Well then, by all means, what's the adventure?" he asks.

"How much time do you have?" I ask. I have a backup plan, but my heart is really set on plan A.

"Sunday-Funday babe. It's all yours," he says.

I should hate him calling me that. I've never allowed a boy to call me a pet name. Usually hearing something like that would make me cringe, but with him, it seemed to roll off his tongue and down my spine.

"Great. Hop on the handlebars," I tell him.

"Oh, no," he says shaking his head. "I don't fit on handlebars. You get on."

"I don't trust you," I say.

Saint grabs his chest. "Ouch," he says. He looks seriously wounded. "I'll have you know you are looking at the bike rodeo champion of my elementary school for second, third, and fourth grade."

"Lost the title in fifth?" I ask to irritate him.

"Nope. Retired. Moved on to skating," he says. He's back on the bike in one small move and tapping the handlebars. "But I've still got it. Get on."

I'm grateful we aren't far from where we need to go because somewhere between junior high and now, I've lost my ability to sit carefree on handlebars.

"Over there," I say after spouting instructions for blocks.

"The train station?" he asks.

"That's the place," I say.

"I'm not sure you know what you're doing," he says.

"Afraid of public transportation?" I ask.

"Maybe," he says honestly. "And I don't think you look like a public transportation girl either. Is this safe?"

"Live a little, Saint," I say.

I've been on the train a few times. It's not ideal, but it's an adventure. Also, it's cheap. I slide my card into the machine while he locks up the bike. Glad he had thought to bring the lock, or we would have missed out on the ride.

"Here you go sir," I say, handing him his own card.

"Here goes nothing," he says as he follows me up the stairs to the tracks.

We stand together on the platform. I watch him take in everything.

"I've lived here for four years, and this is a first," he says.

"Sounds like you might have counted your win too soon," I tell him. If he's this intrigued with the station, he will be floored this is only part of the adventure.

The train pulls in and he follows me inside. I choose a seat close to the door, but point him in the direction of the window.

"Come see the city for cheap," I say.

He takes his seat, looking a little unsure.

"I feel like I should be on the outside in case..." he starts.

"I'm fine. I appreciate that though," I tell him.

The doors close and we are off. The city flies by us out the window, and also fills the train at each stop. Passengers coming and going on their way to various events or work. We sit in silence for a while, watching and enjoying the ride.

"You're a lot more than you appear to be," he says quietly.

His body warmth seeps into my skin as our jean-covered legs touch in the tight space. I haven't wanted to shift at all and miss out on the way he seems to ground me. I feel safe.

"What does that mean?" I ask. I lean a little closer to hear him—or to smell the delicious scent of his soap on his skin.

"I don't know yet. I just have this feeling," he says. "But I'm looking forward to figuring it out."

"I don't know much about you either," I confess.

"What do you want to know?" he asks.

A passenger gets on with three balloons. We watch him struggle to get them inside the door before they're popped.

"What's your birthday?" I ask.

"I'm guessing the same as yours," he tells me.

"Christmas?" I ask. I turn my body towards him. If I'm right, he'll be the only person I know to share the date with me. But how could he hate his birthday so much?

"You, me, and Jesus," he says solemnly.

"Don't sound so bummed," I tell him.

"Well, Noelle, some of us aren't thrilled to be a part of the holiday...or named after it," he says with a small humorless laugh.

"Saint? Like Saint—" I start.

"Nicholas," he finishes. "And if you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

I motion a cross over my heart and pretend to zip my lips, but I can't keep them from turning up into a smile. 

***Have you ever rode the LA MetroLink? I did for the first time last year. Where did you go and what did you do? Would you ever do it again?*****