Her

Part 11

Again. It was the same today – she was still uncomfortable around me. She would alternate between doing her best to ignore me and stay as far away from me as she could, and finding every excuse to walk by me and glance at me guardedly every minute or so. I remained completely thrown; I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't all just a prolonged dream. It seemed if our roles had been reversed: now, she was the wary woman all alone with her thoughts, fixated on only one other, and I was the object, both the watched and the watcher. This careful dance continued for days, both of us looking at each other, throwing glances and attempting to remain unnoticed while doing so. Trying to watch without being seen, and somehow be close and admired at the same time. My writing had never been so disconnected or convoluted. I reveled in the looks she sent me, deciphering what was in her eyes, basking in her attention, as unpredictable and confusing as it was. And I noticed that when our glances overlapped and she saw me staring at her for the brief second before we both hurriedly lowered our gaze, she would blush and smile the same smile I would when she softly brushed by me. That's when I had the incredible epiphany that she craved and enjoyed any attention and admiration she received from me, and if it was even a fraction of how I felt, it was more that just the fleeting interest I had initially believed it to be. For the first time, when she smiled, it was because of me. For me.