Mar 22, 2010 23:42
Oh, but he's so good when he's alone. So good. A boy who has chosen not to love you, or who has decided that he is incapable of loving you, should be forbidden by law to look at you with those eyes how he used to look at you when he and you both had hopes for the future. It's impossible to combine these two images of him that I have in my mind: one, that wants to fuck every woman he encounters and hates relationships, and the other, who told me my eyes were magnetic, pursued me for months, and said I wasn't like any other girl he'd met before. How do those two combine?
No idea.
He's going to be my play/novel. He and Travis combined. They have to be. I think about them 20 times a day -- in entirely different contexts, of course -- but oh, the things I could say about those two.
"I just want back in your head, I'm not unfaithful but I'll stray, when I get a little scared, when I get a little scared, when I get a little ..."
Opens on the two of them in bed. He's handsome, lean and dark-haired. Pale, with icy-blue eyes, almost transparent. His body is toned and flexible. He was built to twist and contort. But not conform.
She's tall, as tall as he is, nearly. Her body is one of contradictions. Full hips, strong, muscled legs. Breasts, arms, softness. But her eyes are hard and deep. They are what attracted him to her, which is unusual for him.
In short, they make a strange but oddly functional pair.