Carved in Her Bones

first sight( Rhian's POV)

He was tall, towering over me by a good half a meter. It was both intimidating and thrilling, the kind of presence that stirred something deep inside me. I had never interacted with someone so tall before, and the sheer novelty of it sent a shiver of excitement through me. His features were striking, the sort of handsomeness I had only ever fantasized about when I first began to understand what attraction felt like.

His hair was a deep, dark brown that flirted with black in the right lighting—under overcast skies or in the dimness of evening. But in the sunlight, it revealed hidden depths, almost hazel, with a warmth that was both surprising and captivating. I had matched with him by accident, a slip of the finger, but I silently celebrated that mistake. Peter was blissfully unaware of his own allure, a humility that only made him more magnetic.

The first time I saw him, leaning casually against his sleek black BMW E60 outside my dorm, it felt like a scene from a dream. I had never been so acutely aware of another person's physical presence before. It caught me off guard, this sudden, primal attraction. My eyes traced the length of him, from his shoes to the way he stood, a predatory gaze that surprised even me. Instinctively, I quickened my pace, sensing that Peter wasn't the kind of man who liked to be kept waiting.

I almost tripped over myself hurrying to meet him, my eagerness getting the better of me. But the moment I was in close quarters with him, the confidence I had felt moments before evaporated. Suddenly, I felt shy, overwhelmed by his presence, and for a brief moment, inadequate. I debated in my head whether to say hello in English or Polish, but he saved me from the exhausting task of deciding by saying, "Hello, nice to meet you," in English. I had expected him to extend his hand for a shake or maybe go for an awkward hug, but instead, he simply looked at me and spoke in better English than I had imagined. I made a mental note of that.

I replied with a quiet "Hello," not quite able to meet his intense gaze as directly as he was meeting mine. Wary of meeting a stranger, I had insisted on picking the place. I told him that the spot I'd chosen was within walking distance, so he wouldn't need his car. The hole-in-the-wall that my friends and I frequented was the safest option I could think of. Without breaking eye contact, he said, "Lead the way." So I turned around and motioned for him to follow me, gesturing as if I were directing a child. He smiled ever so slightly at that.

The silence between us stretched on for what felt like an eternity, though it was only a minute or so, until we reached the student pub. The place was really unremarkable, but it was near campus and I could afford to drink there without worrying about making rent. I smiled a wide, almost childish grin as I presented the place to him. To an onlooker, it would seem like nothing more than an 18th-century chateau with unkempt gardens and a rusty front gate threatening to break off its hinges if you so much as breathed on it. He eyed the place suspiciously but followed me down the worn concrete stairs without a word.

As we descended what felt like an endless number of stairs, he suddenly stopped and leaped down two steps so he was directly in front of me. "Do you come here often?" he asked, his voice calm yet commanding. I was taken aback—not so much by the question itself, but by the way he seemed to demand my full attention while asking it. His gaze was intense, and I could feel the weight of his investment in our conversation.

I stammered for a moment, feeling my confidence waver under his scrutiny. Suddenly self-conscious, I averted my gaze to his blindingly white shoes and murmured, "It's the only place I can afford near here." Without warning, I felt his warm, calloused index finger beneath my chin, gently tilting my head up to meet his penetrating gaze. It was clear that looking into his eyes while speaking was important to him, and I quickly made a mental note of that. When our eyes finally met, he softly said, "That's not what I asked."

Flustered, I quickly volunteered, "I come here every Friday with friends." A boyish smile spread across his face, and without warning, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back up the stairs, saying with the disappointment of a teenager, "This place is a dump. I'm taking you somewhere else." I shrieked in surprise, struggling to keep up as he practically dragged me two steps at a time.

You really ought to work out more often," he teased, his voice playful, over the sound of my embarrassingly loud breathing as we reached the car. He opened the driver's side door, ready to hop in. I smiled, feeling a little braver after my first workout in years.

With a newfound burst of confidence, fueled by endorphins, I stood tall, crossed my arms, and declared, "I don't go out with guys who don't open doors for me."

He froze for a moment, then turned to face me, an amused smile playing on his lips. His eyes traveled slowly from my bare legs up to my face, taking his sweet time as if he were committing every detail to memory. It was strange, but also oddly fascinating, feeling his gaze linger like that. I half expected him to tell me to forget it, and I was already scrambling for a polite way to brush it off.

But instead, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and said, "Baby, I'm not going to open the door for you because then I'd be stuck doing it for the rest of our lives." He smiled, and as he shook his head, a curl fell across his forehead, nearly touching his eyes. ." I obeyed without a second thought.He brushed it away casually before turning back and slipping into the driver's seat, waiting.

I walked slowly to the passenger side, opened the door myself, and slid in gracefully. As we drove toward the A4 highway, a soft smile played on my lips, the playful exchange lingering between us like a promise of more adventures to come, As we approached the red light  I joked, "I hope the place has $10 drinks. That's all I can afford right now."