Boomer's eyes are coffee brown. Sometimes, they are a chocolate brown, swirling around when he smirks, melting your heart as you stare into them. A glaze of dark brown when he's angry and a sliver of hazelnut when he gives you a 'you're kidding' look.
I love Boomer's eyes.
He told me my eyes were a lovely shade once. He described them as a hazelnut brown with a hint of periwinkle when I smiled.
Okay, so maybe he didn't TELL me these things, he may or may not have written them on a piece of paper which happened to turn up in a book he leant me. Whether or not this was an intentional thing, I'm not sure. But he thinks my eyes are nice.
Brady's eyes are brown, not coffee or chocolate. Not even the woodsy brown of a tree. They're just… brown. A blank stare, when he's confused. A blank stare when he's angry and a blank stare when he talks to me.
"Hey Brady," I ask one day in the diner, "What color are my eyes?"
Boomer stops shooting billiards and smirks, his chocolate brown eyes glinting with the knowledge of why I'm asking Brady this.
"They're brown Mikayla." He replies.
Boomer rolls his own hazelnut sprinkled eyes and continues playing pool- What. An. Idiot.