no 2: newborn wheat

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You met my eyes for just a little bit longer than friends do.

We were frozen in time, sitting still in the bustle of brunch rush. The café was loud, but quiet surrounded us. There we were, existing in our own little world. Your green eyes met my brown ones, holding me captive in their light. I was a fly in amber, held fast, unable to move.

Our friends laughed around us, caught up in conversation. They didn't notice that we weren't paying attention. They didn't notice how your leg brushed mine. They didn't notice the way you looked at me when you took a sip of my drink, even though you ordered the same thing. They didn't notice how I let you.

They noticed that we shared our food (we've always shared our food). They noticed how you stopped yourself from reaching for my hand (best friends hold hands, right?). They noticed when you licked your lips and glanced at mine. They noticed the tension between us, thick as your honey-rich voice. A voice that I get lost in.

I noticed the way you made me feel. I noticed how your laugh sent me reeling. I noticed the way your smile brought me to my knees before you, reaching, begging. I noticed the hunger in those eyes, green as a newborn field of wheat. I noticed the way the light danced through your irises, swirling through the tall grass. I wanted to lay in that field forever, I wanted to be frozen in that moment forever. 

stillwaterNơi câu chuyện tồn tại. Hãy khám phá bây giờ