"Dark Eyes"
Speedy
Is it true? The more you strive for attention, the less you'll get? It's definitely proving to be true so far—unless you count the fangirls. But then, the opposite would be relevant—the more you strive to blend in, the more you stand out. Truth be told, ever since that one day at the pizza parlor, I've only wanted one set of eyes watching me. It just took me a few months for me to swallow that emotion and recognize it for what it was.
It was a long time ago—a few years, I'd guess. Bee had just invited me to join a new team of Titans in collaboration with the original Titans that I'd fought with—and against—a few months before. But in the middle of her proposal, she suddenly looked up and waved over a boy around my age, with long black hair and dark eyes.
He was Aqualad, as he reintroduced himself to me. We'd been in the Tournament together, in that same place where I'd met the Titans members. Meeting him in the competition made him my enemy. Meeting him at a pizza place made him… well, what did it make him?
He had sat next to me, leaning on the table and looking at me curiously. He started up a conversation as Bee disappeared for a while—I never did figure out where she went for those twenty minutes—and soon enough, we were laughing and elbowing each other as if we'd known each other for years.
After that day, we didn't see each other for a few months. And during those months, I felt strangely empty. Again, it was as if we'd known each other for much longer than an hour or two, as if he'd made a lasting impression in my life.
The day we met again, on the day that we started laying out the Tower's blueprints, was awkward, to say the least. I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me when I was next to him again, but then my nerves kicked in. We were all hovering around the table of plans, leaning over them, trying to get a chance to use the five pencils… three of which the twins were racing around with. So, Bee had one, and Aqualad and I were forced to share one. But things got even more uncomfortable when he and I were looking closely at the details on the paper at the same time on opposite sides of the table, and looked up in synchronization when Bee called something out.
We stood there, nose to nose, for what seemed like eternity. His warm breath mixed with mine, his face at an odd angle that made his lips less than an inch from mine. The surprise in eyes wasn't filled with dread, either. His eyes were jumping over my face, almost analyzing it, his pale face flushed and his mouth curved up into a slightly playful smile. And as I shoved myself back from the table, my face burning, that foreign emotion registered as pure desire.
Horror movies always send out the message that dark eyes watching a person are terrible and signify death. And in a clichéd way, I agree. Dark eyes watching me would totally mean heaven.