His Eyes Were Like Fire, His Face Like Ice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just something I wrote on the spot.

Submitted: July 26, 2011

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Submitted: July 26, 2011



He looked at me, no emotion characterizing his perfectly sculptured face, and I got that churning, weightless feeling in my stomach. I know that my cheeks flushed deeply, embarrassed under his gaze. Was it just me or did the corners of his pink mouth turn slightly up at my blush? I looked up, wondering if his eyes were still locked on me. My eyes met his, a soft and curious brown, and I couldn’t rest my sight on anything else. He held my gaze, eye to eye, unmoving and, seemingly, unfeeling. How could someone like him spend his days so alone, no one but him knowing his likes and dislikes, his opinions, his fears?

Naturally, I was drawn to him not long after I learned his name. I think everyone has that immediate reaction. Mystery has always captured people in his claws, reluctantly releasing them only after their hearts and hopes have been shattered. He had the same effect on most, whether he did it intentionally or was totally oblivious to it. The hearts of too many girls, attracted to his perfect face and his aloof nature, had been violently hurled to the concrete of rejection, fractured into a million, tiny, irretrievable shards. I should know better than to let my emotions rise above my reason. I would end up just like those girls, victimized without words, actions, or thoughts. He never spoke a word to hurt them, never did anything to injure, and more than likely, never even gave a thought to any one of them. He was a silent killer.

His eyes hadn’t moved; perhaps he hadn’t even blinked. Taking a few steps in his direction, I had a sudden, inexplicable urge to speak to him. He seldom spoke to anyone; he never spoke to me. But when he did talk, Le Cygne became tuneless and the smoothest stream was put to shame. I had witnessed many fail to remember how to speak if he said one word intended for their ears.

Nothing in his manner changed as I moved nearer. He didn’t blink, he didn’t frown, he didn’t smile, he didn’t move. I stopped in front of him; his eyes searched mine, looking for something. Next he took in my whole face, still without expression. Then he looked back into my eyes. Even though his face was like ice, his eyes burned like fire. Even though his face told of no emotion, his eyes held his soul.

Words that I had been determined to say lost formation on my tongue. I was lost to the entire world but him. All I was aware of was him, the heat that radiated from his eyes, and the heat growing inside me.

While I could not say anything, the connection we shared as we maintained eye contact said it all - my soul’s intense longing for him was revealed freely, my physical craving made known.

And, unexpectedly, the impartial façade plunged. Hands, once cold and motionless, reached out. Arms, once uninviting and unbending, surrounded me. Lips, once firm and uncaring, spread warmth through my body as they crashed down onto mine. I was numb to everything but his touch. When he finally pulled away, he took my breath with him and his face was speckled with little stars.

His face returned to a stone sculpture, only his eyes held something different. I smiled. He nodded. His eyes sparkled. Then he slipped his fingers between mine and spoke for the first time.

“I love you.” His stone composure had been no pretense. He felt only for me.

© Copyright 2019 Katriel Valafar. All rights reserved.

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