Behind His Eyes

Chapter 1

  I only felt claustrophobic for about fifteen minutes, choking on the recycled neon smoke that filtered out like poisonous gas in all directions. My hands were sweaty and every few seconds someone would bump against me and suddenly the music would feel way too loud, bass ringing in my ears and in my chest, making me want to fall to the ground. Unfamiliar eyes....broken hearts and numbed minds in every direction. I was there in my black cable knit sweater and my blood red leggings, unsure exactly of how I'd gotten into this situation. It was normal for these local clubs to let kids under 21 in, after all, most of the money they made was off of alcohol. They couldn't care less.

  Of course, like I'd mentioned, that terrible sense of being tightly fit into a really warm box only lasted about fifteen minutes. It lasted up until the very moment I glanced in that fateful direction, the direction of the bar (which was surprisingly quite empty). It lasted up until I caught a pair of dark eyes that seemed to turn the smoke into some sort of hazy perfume....roses? His gaze pulled me in, Suddenly the bass was lifting me up and parting the sea of swaying bodies. They all seemed to become like transparent ghosts, disappearing from sight. He was there, leaning against the bar with a beer in one hand and that gaze.....I wasn't sure what it meant. As I watched him, and he undoubtedly watched me- it's as if we were the only people in the club- I wondered what lay behind those eyes. And those dark jeans and that messy brown hair. What secrets did he keep......

  Before I could understand fully what was happening to my body I was being pulled by some unforeseen force, possibly my very own, towards him. The song changed and I was standing beside him, the scent of roses was gone but in its place was something like cinnamon and rain. Something like indie rock music and dark colors you can't quite pronounce. I waved my hand to the bartender and called for a drink, any drink, and soon was met with a tall glass of amber liquid. I took a tentative sip, glancing at him sideways. The taste was bitter, but at the moment I didn't care. I didn't know why I was in that club, or why I decided tonight I would crawl outside of my little box. But something in me was so glad...even if all I was doing was standing next to him and all the ghosts dancing around us were starting to smell like sweat again. My heart pounded and I looked at him, "hello."

  He turned and stared down at me, His dark eyes peering into my very soul. Everything about him was suddenly magnified, the eyeliner he wore and the olive color of his skin. I think Chase Atlantic was playing. "Hi." His voice in itself made me feel a sort of way, like maybe I wanted to hear it more. It had me wondering.

  I took a deep breath and hoped he didn't notice how shaky it was, "what's your name?" All of a sudden this felt like a shitty idea, coming to say hi to this beautiful, mysteriously entrancing stranger. Surely he thought of me as a joke, a shrimpy little 18 year old girl all alone in a hardcore club, drinking fruity beer in possibly the most tentative fashion possible. He probably listens to Bring Me The Horizon and dates scary women with arm tattoos and black lipstick. Oh fuck, now I was stereotyping.

  "Devon." He smiled, a small little smile but enough of one to make me straighten up and forget the stereotyping I had previously been muddled in. Devon. The more he spoke, the more I wanted to hear. Like some sort of new flavor of ice cream, unfamiliar and intimidating yet captivating in its own unique way.

  It had seemed extremely loud and crowded in the club earlier, but now I was in my own world here at the bar....my only little mindset, "I'm Rose." I wondered for a second if I should shake his hand- which actually led me to examine his hands (I'd always had a thing for those things)- and then quickly realized how stupid that was. Nobody shakes hands when at a club, bass music pumping and neon lights swaying; Everyone intoxicated and far gone from the tremulous grip of reality.

  "I saw you earlier out there. You looked kind of scared." He smirked, raising a singular dark eyebrow. I noticed out of my peripheral vision that the bartender was watching us. I gave it no mind, it floated in my subconscious because at the moment the butterflies in my stomach swarmed and come to mention it, so did the alcohol I'd been sipping at.