Blue Eyes

He started to walk away but came back. Steadily cupping his coffee mug with both hands, words began to spew from his mouth without haste. She reached out her hand as a sign of respect and welcome, and it may have been his wet hand that grasped her own that drew her to him for the very first time.

What continued to draw her to him? Was it the set of piercing blue eyes that made it hard for her to stay sober, and easy for her to lose herself completely, for no particular reason save that they were such kind eyes? Or was it his geeky, quiet confidence that shined through in the way that he would look at her and walk away? Was it his sloppy hair or wrinkled shirt? The sleepy in his eyes… or again, just the blue?

She hated that she was hopelessly and undeniably attracted to him. Her cheeks flushed and she felt ashamed that he haunted her mind, now more than ever.

Her thoughts had betrayed her. What she wanted to feel and what she was actually feeling collided in disagreement. She wanted the flush of her cheeks to turn pale, but the thought of his kind eyes kept on pulling her back to that magnetic other.

She sat there, cold. She tried hard to preoccupy her mind with the unimportant; but she knew that there was no use. She threw her hands up in defeat. Her fragile disposition almost could not handle such deafening prose… enough, she said. Enough.

His blue eyes, sloppy hair, wrinkled shirt, and the geeky, quiet confidence radiating from the way that he would look at her and walk away ~ began to form the silhouette of a goodbye.