Written for PF's Shules Ficathon '10 (in July). Prompt: lucky
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The candlelight danced on the walls, casting a pattern of darkness and light that bent and swayed in a different direction with each moment.
Shawn gazed across the table at the woman seated there. She was momentarily preoccupied with the strands of pasta on her plate, and he gladly took the time to study her. Not that he hadn't done so every day possible for the past few years, but he welcomed the opportunity to do so again.
Yes, he decided, if he could decide how he would use every minute of every day from now until forever, there was no better way to spend them.
Feeling his gaze, she looked up. He quickly diverted his eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the meatballs in his plate.
"Shawn." She said it so sweetly, in that way that only she could, that he couldn't help but look back over.
"What?" he blinked back innocently.
"Shawn … you were staring at me," she pointed out, setting her fork down and leaning forward slightly. "Is something wrong?"
He blinked again and offered a grin. "Nope. Everything's just peachy."
She laughed. "You never use that word. Come on, tell me. What's up?"
Her eyes caught the light of the flame on the table, two dark blue reflective pools that seemed to beckon him in. For just a moment, he found himself at a loss for words.
She smiled, having caught onto his thoughts as easily as if he had spoken them aloud. Her hand shifted forward, and his was quick to cover the remaining half of the table. As his hand rested on top of hers, they fell silent. Each was watching the other's expression, both of which were filled with a multitude of unspoken feelings, feelings that could remain unspoken.
Both seemed to understand all that the other was saying. They sat wordlessly, simply watching the other, content to stay that way forever. The remaining food on their plates was cold to the touch by the time they stood to leave, and the trip back to her apartment didn't seem quite long enough.
They parted ways at her door, after he had seen her safely inside. Her door swung shut and he retraced his steps to his motorcycle, smiling to himself.
There was no doubt about it. He was definitely the luckiest guy in Santa Barbara.