Anything but This |C.R

As my fatherly figure talks to the secretary a boy walks in. His hair is long and dangles over his eyes. He is followed by a staff member who brings him to the chair next to me.
So familiar
He plops himself down as if he hasn't sit in days and slumps in the chair looking over at me.
I stiffen and turn my eyes looking through my hair at him.
His. Eyes. Piercing blue. As cold as ice, but as warm as summer.