Those eyes. Christ, those eyes.
I watched him as he placed the glasses beneath the bar.
Eye contact. And I froze. It was a subtle move, on both our parts. Eyes watching the moves that are being made. So cautiously.
And really, although being watched, I feel so safe in the presence of someone so simple as him. I can't make sense of it for you. I can only tell what I think is true.
From experiences. From observations.
It is like... a chemistry. A process that begins like a friendship would.
It is like a slow moving film. It is something like an imaginary connection.
A connection between a man of chivalry and a woman of sheer fascination. It is completely made up. Totally wrong. Skewed. Blurred.
The way he presents the bottle in front of you, as if it is a question. The way he will pour the whiskey into a shot glass, even if your hand is over your cup. It is like luring you into a dream. At least I feel as if it is a dream.
Small comments made here and there. You are questioning the relevancy of it all. Over analyzing what is said, and what is being done.
You feel as though you are something so special here tonight. You know otherwise.
It is not to say that you do not appreciate it, you know the ground rules of why these things just happen. You cannot mistake the reality of it. You can not mistake the want for it.
It just kind of falls into the pattern.