In perfect synchronicity.
Dancing Green Eyes and his friend were paying their bill. I knew they were about to leave. They always left their waitress a big tip, which is why the other servers fought over his table.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
I made a point to stare. Not hiding it. Reveling in it. I liked looking at him. I barely noticed his friend. I was transfixed by slightly wavy, light brown hair and eyes that crinkled in the corners when he grinned. His lips were thin but stretched wide when he smiled, with teeth that were a little too large for his mouth.
He had broken his nose at some point and he sported an obvious scar along the side of his jaw that dipped into the collar of his shirt. Disappearing. Out of sight. And his neck. The shiny, crisscrossing of lines faded but present.
Lines of destruction etched into skin…
I thought about making up a story to go along with the scars but decided I didn’t want to.
I was certain the truth would be so much better than the lie.
Because it was the dishonesty on his face that intrigued me. I appreciated the ghosts that haunted him. The phantoms that shadowed his eyes even as they danced and danced and danced.
He wanted to be happy. But he wasn’t. If you looked closely, you could see the misery. A devil could find the demons.
His personality was clearly infectious. Easy. Deceptive. He flirted readily and often with the middle-aged waitress who made every excuse to check on him throughout his meal.
Slight touches. Loud laughter. Words coated in sugar and warmth.
He was irresistible. Fascinating.
Mine.
I tapped my fingers on the table to music only I could hear.
Then Dancing Green Eyes was on his feet, pushing his arms through the sleeves of his coat. Tattered. Stained. It had seen better days. He dressed without care of his appearance. Not a priority for the man with the fake smile.
His friend said something that made him laugh again, and this time I found myself laughing too.
Tangling myself in his fa?ade.
The sound of my rusty and ill-used chuckle caught his attention. He looked at me, seeing me for the first time even though we had sat across from each other for months now. It was a moment unlike any other.
Buzz…
It was the one I had been waiting for.
Depended on.
Desperately needed.
His lips quirked as he looked at me, and I knew he liked what he saw.
Most men did.
It was easy to be attracted to me.
With my long, dark hair and equally dark eyes, I was pretty, just on the verge of beautiful. My lips were full and my face symmetrical. I had a smattering of freckles over my straight nose that I had been told gave my appearance just a touch of innocence.
I laughed harder.
I knew what Dancing Green Eyes was thinking when he looked at me.
His eyes flickered down to the book on the edge of the table. He walked toward me, and I found that my heart started beating in overtime.
This. This. This.
Now. Now. Now.
He put his finger on the ragged cover, holding it down with firmness.
“Interesting book choice,” he said, his smile ever present. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes telling their lies.
I slid my worn copy of Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust out from beneath his finger and nodded, looking up at him through my lashes.
We stared at each other for a time, the air electric between us. I almost forgot to breathe.
Stay…
“Come on, Elian, we’ve got to get back to the shop before George has our heads,” his friend said, his voice harsh and unwelcome in our comfortable silence.
Elian blinked, as though clawing his way to the surface. My head buzzed louder. Ever louder.
“See you around?” he posed the statement more as a question.
I nodded again, never giving him words. Holding them close to me for later.
Elian cocked his head and regarded me and my body started to tingle.
Buzz…