The Way He Looks At Her

Her

Intrigued. I stared at him, intrigued, while wondering what possessed him to come over to me. Was he over here for a reason, had he heard something? He was handsome, in a nerdy but a jock kind of way. But you can't trust handsome.

I put my emotionless disguise back on as I studied him. He had shaggy blonde hair, a sharp jaw line and brown eyes that were like the deep intoxication of Scotch whisky; smoky with hazing richness and expensive taste.

I sipped my caramel-hazelnut mocha, confused as to why he was here in the first place. Why would he voluntarily come over to me? I had never seen this man before.

He was staring at me so intently it made my stomach jittery and I wonder if he was staring at the imperfections across my face. At the scar on the contour line of my cheek bone. I was in a rush this morning due to not setting my alarm but I still managed to conceal the ugly line with makeup. I then sub-consciously brushed my non-manicured fingers across my face. The scar stood out like a bas-relief sculpture. It was sickening to think about. I promised myself I would never trust a man again. Not after what my ex did to me. Handsome men really were the untrustworthy ones.

So why was this man standing before me?

I couldn't decide if I wanted him here, sitting next to me; but I didn't have the willpower or heart to tell him to leave either. I wasn't waiting for anyone and I still had close to thirty minutes till my next lecture. It's peculiar that someone in general wanted to sit with me. What was so fascinating about me? There was nothing special about me, and I like to keep myself. I mean, who would want two-faced friends when I have me, myself and I. I had become the Queen of Distrust, promising myself I could rely on no man. Or woman for that matter.

Realising he was talking, I apologised and turned my attention to him.

"Um, sorry I beg your pardon?" I asked timidly with a wary smile.

He returned the gesture with a more confident looking smile than I had plastered on my face and replied with a chuckle, "I just asked if that's a good book?"

Sitting up straighter, I replied with a simple, "Yes.", maybe a little too confident for my own liking. "It's Shakespeare, classic literature." I continued.

"Not to be rude, but why are you here?" I questioned.

He looked startled as he responded, "Are you waiting for someone?" looking around the quiet café.

Keeping my mouth shut I stared at him; my eyes full of confusion and his of wonder.

"Well then, I hope you don't mind me sitting with you."

Looking down at my watch I realised I had ten minutes to get to class. Packing up my belongings and grabbing my untouched bagel in my hand, "Uh sorry, I've got to get to class."

I started walking away when he shouted out to me,

"Hey wait, what's your name?"

I turned around and surprised myself by the answer I gave him as I walked out of the café.

"I don't know. Guess."