(A/N: POWERSTONES)
I woke up to the noise around me. "Huh?" I mumbled, blinking. The train had just pulled into a station, and a wave of new passengers squeezed into the already packed car. What's happening? I wondered. Does this line always get so crowded?
I glanced at the overhead display. The name of the next stop scrolled across. I'm still halfway to my destination, I realized, only about midway there. "Lots of students," I observed. "Maybe heading to club practice? Tough luck for them." Most wore the same school uniform, though a few had different ones I recognized. Doing job interviews teaches you to spot these things. These days, most schools use blazers, but my old school stuck with sailor suits, those classic navy dresses with white collars.
I frowned. "Morning trains are awful. Their chatter is so annoying." A car full of young women just made it feel more suffocating. Older women wouldn't be much better, but these girls had so much energy it wore me out. People might still call me young, but I'm past the age of giggling over big romance dreams or hoping for a perfect guy to sweep me off my feet. These girls, though? They're all about that fantasy, right in front of me.
Their high-pitched voices went on and on—idols, a boy from class saying hello, all that silly, innocent stuff that irritated me. "God, I hate how young they are," I muttered. "Not knowing how the world works… I'm jealous." I've got a good job and plenty of money for my age. Hard work and a bit of luck made me successful. But am I happy? No. Money can buy a man's time, not his heart. I've figured that out. They haven't.
I shook my head. "This isn't good." Usually, I'd never wish to be that age again, but this hangover was making me moody, and my headache wasn't helping. It's a bad habit of mine. When I drink, I feel on top of the world, but the next day, I crash into hating myself. People call me the iron lady because I keep my face steady no matter what, but inside, I'm dried up and falling apart. I've pushed myself too hard for too long, I guess. Maybe it's time for a break. If I quit, I've got enough savings to get by.
I caught myself. "No, stop that." My thoughts were stuck in a gloomy loop. Once this hangover fades, I'll snap out of it. The crowd is just making my bad mood worse today. I decided to think about something else instead.
That guy from last night was a shame. I got him too drunk too fast; he'll steer clear of me next time. He had a nice, slim collarbone, just my type. His chest was a little flat but good enough. "It felt really good," I said to myself, staring at my fingers that touched him through the stack of bills. That memory alone could keep me going for three days. But by day four, I'd need a new thrill to excite me.
I looked around again. "Students, huh." Some of the girls wore sailor suits, reminding me of my school days. They're not much to look at, but those uniforms always went with the boys' black ones—the kind with high collars and buttons down the front. Those boys' uniforms really get to me now. Back when I wore a sailor suit, I only cared about the guys wearing them. Now I see how appealing those outfits were. Just thinking about them gives me a little thrill.
I never got close to the one or two boys in my class back then. I was too young to appreciate seeing a real boy's uniform up close for free. Maybe there's one in the men's car at the back of the train. I wouldn't go look, but the idea made my heart skip a beat.
"I've never been to one of those places," I thought. Clubs where hosts dress up in costumes. I've heard about them, but a fake uniform on some grungy guy never interested me before. Seeing these sailor suits, though, brought back memories of the boys' uniforms I could only watch from far away. Now I've got the cash to pay a host to wear one. It's not the real thing, sure, but it might be fun anyway.
I made a plan. "I'll ask the VP to find one." He's been with me a long time and keeps quiet. I pay him well, so he can do some legwork for me. I started imagining a costume club four days from now and closed my eyes to nap again. But then…
The doors shut, and the car was stuffed full. My feet kept brushing against the person in front of me, which was driving me crazy. "Haa, haa…" I muttered, pulling my legs back to doze off. Suddenly, a low, smooth breath came from above me. It wasn't a woman's high voice. It was deep and calm, sinking right into me—a man's voice.