He hovers in the middle of the bar, and his owlish eyes meet mine at every glance. They are on me when my eyes are trying to hide, I can feel them burrowing into my flesh, every movement watched, every laugh counted, every nod measured. And yet, he stands next to what is certainly his latest prey, she, small and coquettish, glancing up at his face with her heart in her throat, and he stares at me instead.
He pretends not to want to capture her, standing at a calculated distance, holding himself still, watching.
She follows his line of sight and her face fills my peripheral view like a full moon, she is pale and clean and wide.
At one point, when I passed him, a jostle from someone else forced our skin to touch, our arms met behind us, his head turned at the touch, he already knew I was there, and he was hoping I had touched him on purpose, I think, so I shrank behind my friends and tried my very best to ignore what I could not.
I want to pull him aside and tell him all I know, tell him that he is not for me, tell him that it's useless to pretend.
And yet, I know that the moment I am in his scope, I will have a hard time honoring our pact and keeping myself from being magnetized. So I will try again, not in vain this time, to stay away...
No comments:
Post a Comment