3.
opia
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there's someone standing there, but unable to tell if you're looking in or looking out
"Thanks Asshole!" I exclaimed as all my sketch copies went fluttering to the ground after the body bumped into me near the exit of the subway. I heard a laugh and saw hands enter my peripheral vision as I struggled to gather them up. The hands gathered some of them and held them out to me.
"No need to call names, Kurt." My head shot up and I gasped.
"Sebastian?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at me. It was like he was staring into my soul. I wondered if I was blushing. I hadn't seen him in months. Not since Blaine's elaborate proposal at Dalton where he'd sung along with the others, smiling but rolling his eyes at the mushy romance.
"How- how are you?" I asked after a few seconds of staring at each other. He nodded congenially.
"I'm sorry I bumped into you." He sounded so polite. He wasn't smirking or anything.
"Sorry I called you an Asshole."
"I figure I'm probably due." There was the smirk I knew. I rolled my eyes, breaking our steady eye contact.
"Probably. Um, I should go. I have to get to work." He nodded and stepped to the side. I nodded and started to walk but he grabbed my elbow. I looked back over my shoulder and once again we made eye contact. His stupid green eyes were staring at me so intensely.
"Don't be a stranger, Kurt."