"The driver? What about you?" Ivy eyed him curiously as he seemed to have no intention of leaving. "You're not seriously considering taking the bus with me, are you?"
Balfour turned to her with a nod, "Is that a problem?"
"It's not that," Ivy said, scanning their surroundings before leaning in to whisper, "You're Balfour Howard, for crying out loud. Taking the bus doesn't exactly fit the image, does it?"
He squinted at her as she spoke in hushed tones. "Is there a sign on the bus saying people like me can't ride it?"
"Of course not," Ivy straightened up, dropping the subject of his uncharacteristic transportation choice.
Deep down, Ivy felt a surge of happiness. His being there meant, at least, he was not as preoccupied with Giselle as she had feared.
After a fifteen-minute wait, the bus arrived, and they boarded.
To Ivy's surprise, the bus was packed at this hour, and they were practically squeezed on board.
Cornered against the window, Ivy glanced at Balfour beside her.
Gone was his composed demeanor, replaced with a frown deeply etched across his forehead.
Ivy looked down, barely containing her laughter, and teased him in a low voice, "Bet you never knew us common folk had it so rough on public transport, huh, Balfour?"
This was Balfour's maiden voyage on a public bus, and he had not anticipated the crush of bodies, leaving him no room to even plant his feet.
"Oops," Ivy stumbled as someone pushed her from behind, falling into Balfour's arms.
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