It was the grin, ultimately, that trapped her.

It was just a small upward curvature of too-thin lips beneath a face that was none-too-assuming, but still…

A grin on the streets was normally unheard of in her town and therefore was more attention-worthy than most events that day.

She watched him, his head mostly bowed towards the paper he seemed intent on reading. She played with the notion he had been looking at her (she was wearing that dress; it was plausible) and that he had like what he saw. Letting a smile play on her face she stood up and swayed as easily as she could down the moving bus’s aisle to approach the empty spot next to him.

“Hi,” she breathed into his waiting ear. “I’m Georgia.”

He turned his head smoothly so that his lips rested not centimeters away from hers. “Hello,” he whispered back. “I’m Atlanta. Aren’t I supposed to be in you right now?”

“Right now,” she gasped, her eyebrow arching to accompany her rising heart beat.

“Right,” he growled, grasping her waist, “now.”