Thursday, October 23, 2008
I looked at him from across the crowded room. His magnetic ebony eyes fringed with dark lashes sized me up. His stare should have scared me but surprisingly, it didn't.
I looked away, shielding my eyes with my long curly hair. I could still feel his gaze on me.
This is madness. I thought to myself and yet, I could feel my heart pounding rapidly.
My friend nudged me. "The new guy is staring at you," she whispered.
"That's ridiculous. He's not staring at me. Why would anybody stare at me?" I vehemently denied but deep inside I felt giddy.
At least I'm not hallucinating. I thought.
I went back to the book I was reading before I felt his gaze on me but I couldn't concentrate. I peeked from under my lashes at him. He wasn't staring at me. I heaved a shaky sigh of relief and I studied him. His brown complexion was flawless. He wasn't what one would call drop dead gorgeous but there was a certain aura of magnetism and a hint of danger that seemed to appeal to me.
He probably has a lot of girls falling for him. I thought. He certainly has no time for ugly, overweight me. I mumbled dejectedly.
"What?" my friend asked.
Great! I said it out loud. Figures. I visibly colored. "Nothing," I said, "I was just mumbling to myself." I didn't meet her gaze. She looked at me quizzically for a moment and went back to typing on her laptop.
Now I'm talking to myself. But that wasn't so weird. After all, I frequently talked to myself.
I felt his gaze on me again and I had the urge to take out my compact and check my reflection to see if there was something on my face. I furrowed my brow and tried to concentrate on my reading. I failed.
I looked up again and met his gaze. He smiled at me and winked. Now, I had the urge to go over and yell at him, or better yet, slap him.
An image immediately popped up in my head. I saw myself with him leaning toward him. I saw our lips meet. He kissed me. I saw myself accept his kiss...his kisses...
I blinked rapidly trying to get the image out of my mind. I shivered. I looked over at him; he smiled and looked at me knowingly.
I turned beet red. He looked as if he read, no saw, what I was thinking.
Impossible. I thought, trying to convince myself that I was imagining things.
I couldn't take it anymore and I slammed my book, got my bag, and stalked out of the room. I could still feel his gaze on me. I felt self-conscious and out-of-sorts. It was disconcerting.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I was finally out the door. He didn't follow me.