I
just want you to know
I wanna be your Romeo
Angela had received flowers before, lots of them in fact, from multiple men and even a few from women. But never had any of them these people had that expression on their face while giving them to her. That look, ones of complete and utter wanting, seemingly seemed to be etched into his ice blue iris.
She had men that told her that they loved her, would die for her. Men who wanted to marry her, but not one of them had ever looked upon her with that the expression that Hodges openly displayed. Words weren't needed to show her how he felt and what he would do for her; it was all there, she just had to learn how to read it. Finally she recognized what she had been seeing in his eyes.
You fool; she thought to herself as he turned from her, offering a secretive smile. A smile of a soul who knew something at which others could only guess. But through the offering that he had laid before her, this soul was giving her the chance at being let in. Too see what no one else was allowed to, chance a glimpse, beyond the gauze of the "bug man" and the rubber-band snapping masocastmasochist. This look in his eyes, this it wasn't the first time that she had seen it, but it had never been openly directed at her before. It was reached in passing, when she caught a few seconds on him staring at her, lost in his own mind. Eyes glazed over and those thin lips slightly parted.
Once he set foot outside one of the doorways of the lab, she couldn't help but reached over involuntary to run the tips of her fingers over the velvety white softness of white. Tracing the petals, she became lost in her own thoughts as her eyes glazed over, starting blankly at the lit computer screen before her.
In her mind, she replayed the scene that had just occurred, focusing in on his eyes; the graceful ways that the tips of his fingers delicately slid across the surface the hard wood table. , Then then finally on the way that the fabric of his blue shirt clung to the contour of his chest; . one One word came to mind, yum.
Until Unable to resist it, a school-girl giggle sprung toescaped her lips before she could silence supresssuppress it. It echoed in the air around her, light and new, as if she was were caught up in some sort of childhood crush. And sShe couldn't help it, that was how she felt when he gave her that look. The bottom of her stomach dropped out and it felt like her heart leapt to her throat, becominge lodged there. Keeping one hand on the rose, the other set of fingers tapped mindlessly on the keyboard as she licked her lips and nibbled on her lower lip.
What did this mean; this ceremony of giving her the rose and the looks her gave her. He had just treaded upon new and dangerous territory by giving this. Flirting and awkward moments she could deal with, the way that she would catch his gaze on her and hold it for a few seconds, but this took the game to a whole new level. Somewhere she wasn't sure if she was ready to go, . it It would solidify confirm that there was something between them; her, the artist and flirt of the Smithson Jeffersonian and him he, the bug and dirt man from one of the oldest families on the East Coast.
That there was a chance that there could be something between them beyond a work-related fling; and the possibility terrified her. The one person that she was destined to be with was Hodges, a man that's whose commutation skills were lacking but never censed ceased to amaze and take her breath away.
Grasping the delicate object in concernrose between her fingers, she noticed that the stem had been quite skillfully stripped of its thorns and skillfully at that as she gently twirled the flowerit between her thumb and forefinger. Regaining focus, she felt the sudden urge to draw, which usually resulted in a masterpiece. Seemingly unable to release the rose from between her fingers, she instead removed her hand from the keyboard and took hold of the sketching pencil resting along side the laptop, and reaching reached for the pad of paper always placedshe conveniently kept covenantal onacross the table.
Closing the screen, she drew that the pad to her and gently replaced the flower in front of her and ahead of the pad as she placed the tip of the lead on the blank sheet. Closing her chocolate brown eyes, clearing out her thoughts, and she instead brought to the surface that the rose Hodges Hodgins brought to her; the smiles that he had caused, sometimes unknowingly.
Slowly, movement started across the pad, bringing to life the image of a hand, shadowed and haunting, that held a lightly traced rose. Every curve and angle transferred to the paper. In school, hands were always what she had difficultyies with. They always came out awkward and seemingly lopsided compared to the body style, but now they just seemed right. The ridges of his knuckles and creases at the joints caught the in shadows. While the hand came out perfect, the main focus was on the single flower, a pure white rose.
Adding the final touches, she gazed one last time at the real thing sitting before her, then to the illustration, wondering if she should turn it into a color painting. Shaking her head, she couldn't imagine it looking any better in color.
