Put Your Eyes on Me
When she walks toward the kitchen she can hear that he's already there.
The jug is boiling and there's the sound of feet still in shoes.
"Glad to see you've let yourself in," she smiles, getting a mug out for him as she enters.
They exchange pleasantries- how are you, how was your day, what have you been doing.
He leads the way out of her kitchen, and she follows him to her couch.
Tea in hand, she removes the shawl from around her shoulders and drapes it across both of their legs, doing little to keep them from the cold that pervades every place in the area.
He doesn't look at her as often when he talks anymore. He talks to the walls, to the calendar, to the wintry air.
She looks at him all the same. She's always been one to look.
His hand moves to her leg, and she pretends not to notice, but his touch is a relief.
They joke, they laugh, and as he leans over and her prods her ribs while she laughs everything feels like it could return to normal.
He even holds her gaze with those piercing blue eyes for a few seconds.
But then he stands- hours sooner than he usually would- and takes away their empty cups.
He extends a hand and she laughs.
"You're stupid," she tells him as she ignores his hand and stands up to embrace him.
And for a brief second their senses awaken again.
Her perfume.
"You smell sweet," he'd drunkenly confessed early in the game.
The brush of her hair against the side of his face.
He immediately thinks of the nights he'd put his arms around her, and brushed her hair to the side so he could be comfortable. "You should just shave it all off," he'd once joked.
Her slender arms around his body.
"You're so little!" He'd used to exclaim as he held her. She'd always pretended not to like that.
The smell of his cologne hits her immediately.
The first thought is being in his room, his bed again.
The feel of his broad shoulders comforts her, like it did for so many nights, if only for a few seconds now. The thought of him staying for warmth quickly crosses her mind- the cold chills to the bone there, and not so long ago he'd jokingly reasoned that was why he stayed.
Then she pulls away.
Not because she wants to, but because she has to.
Because neither of the two are frank with each other.
And because both are too unsure of each other to retract an agreement made abruptly and solemnly.
His eyes look into hers once more, and all he says is, "Goodnight," as he turns to leave into the cold night.
The jug is boiling and there's the sound of feet still in shoes.
"Glad to see you've let yourself in," she smiles, getting a mug out for him as she enters.
They exchange pleasantries- how are you, how was your day, what have you been doing.
He leads the way out of her kitchen, and she follows him to her couch.
Tea in hand, she removes the shawl from around her shoulders and drapes it across both of their legs, doing little to keep them from the cold that pervades every place in the area.
He doesn't look at her as often when he talks anymore. He talks to the walls, to the calendar, to the wintry air.
She looks at him all the same. She's always been one to look.
His hand moves to her leg, and she pretends not to notice, but his touch is a relief.
They joke, they laugh, and as he leans over and her prods her ribs while she laughs everything feels like it could return to normal.
He even holds her gaze with those piercing blue eyes for a few seconds.
But then he stands- hours sooner than he usually would- and takes away their empty cups.
He extends a hand and she laughs.
"You're stupid," she tells him as she ignores his hand and stands up to embrace him.
And for a brief second their senses awaken again.
Her perfume.
"You smell sweet," he'd drunkenly confessed early in the game.
The brush of her hair against the side of his face.
He immediately thinks of the nights he'd put his arms around her, and brushed her hair to the side so he could be comfortable. "You should just shave it all off," he'd once joked.
Her slender arms around his body.
"You're so little!" He'd used to exclaim as he held her. She'd always pretended not to like that.
The smell of his cologne hits her immediately.
The first thought is being in his room, his bed again.
The feel of his broad shoulders comforts her, like it did for so many nights, if only for a few seconds now. The thought of him staying for warmth quickly crosses her mind- the cold chills to the bone there, and not so long ago he'd jokingly reasoned that was why he stayed.
Then she pulls away.
Not because she wants to, but because she has to.
Because neither of the two are frank with each other.
And because both are too unsure of each other to retract an agreement made abruptly and solemnly.
His eyes look into hers once more, and all he says is, "Goodnight," as he turns to leave into the cold night.
Comments
Typo first sentence... "hear" instead of "here."
Happy Theme Thursday, thanks for playing.