The Boy with the Blind Eyes

Angus' POV - The Date

Hey, guys!

I hope this little update doesn't confuse you guys or anything - I was just feeling pathetic and really missing writing, so I decided to experiment writing in Angus' POV.

Please read & enjoy.

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The Date -

My palms are sweating. My breath is shaking. My footsteps are too loud.

I worry.

I worry that tonight won't go as she hopes. I worry that I'll stuff up or say something wrong or forget to comment on how beautiful she looks, even though I can't see her. But I know how beautiful she is—I can hear it every time she opens her mouth. It's difficult to hide beauty like that.

I know that the moment she opens the door, she'll be disappointed. She'll suck in a deep breath and wait for the compliment that I can never rightfully give her. I can't compliment her on her voice, or tell her that she simply sounds beautiful. That's one reservation I had about asking her out—but this time, I had to do it. I've been trying ever since that day at the lake, but then Brett came into the picture.

As my pace quickens and footsteps grow even louder, I feel my way in front of her door. Part of my navigation is purely instinctive. This is why I'm even more nervous as I rap on the door three times, my anticipation growing by the second. I just need to hear the voice. That sweet, melodic voice. The beautiful voice, coming from the beautiful girl.

I hear the door open. The darkness behind my eyelids brightens slightly. And then I hear it. The greeting I've been looking forward to hearing all day. There's a moment's hesitation before Tamsin says, 'Hi.'

I grin suddenly, feeling like a monumental idiot. I can't help but grin when I'm nervous. Involuntary habits die hard. 'Hey,' I reply simply. I pause. 'So, you ready?'

'Sure,' she says, and a few moments later the door is closing and she's taking my arm. I can't help but feel pleased. The space between where our skin meets tingles and I feel a rush of nervous pleasure.

I shrug to myself. Maybe I don't have to be nervous. Because judging by the way she's balling up her fist in the shirt around my elbow, she's nervous, too. And two nervous people, together, is far better than one.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

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