Eyes

She looked at me with those eyes, deep as the ocean, bright as the full moon,dazzling like diamonds.  There was a longing in those eyes that I couldn't fathom.  How I loved those eyes, but when I closed my own, I knew that I didn't love her.

"No," I said resolutely, not even the hint of the trembling I feared would betray me in my voice.  "I'm sorry, but still no."

"Can't you at least look at me when you say that?" she pleaded.

I knew I couldn't.  If I opened my eyes again, I would be lost.  I yearned for her eyes, to see them every day of my life, the beauty and the pain and the mystery of them.  But I couldn't.  I knew it would be the most foolish thing I ever did if I were to say yes to her.

To focus my mind, I thought of all I knew of her.  Her eyes might be like diamonds, but her heart was like a stone.  She was greedy and selfish and superficial.  She cared more for my money than for me by far.  I couldn't even begin to understand her full motives, and that terrified me.  She lied to me nearly every time she opened her mouth.

"But..."

"No," I said again, nearly kicking myself that time as I heard my voice quiver.  I was sure she would go in for the kill, but she didn't.  There was only silence.  Pouting I was sure.  I was tempted to open my eyes to see if she was even still there, but the risk was too great.  If she was pouting, those eyes would overcome me for sure.

It seemed like an eternity passed.  I felt my pulse quicken and sweat drip down my nose, but still my eyes remained resolutely shut.  And then finally, after two eternities, the bell finally rang.

I listened to the shuffle, pulse starting to slow to normal, and when the commotion had settled, I opened my eyes again and smiled.

A pretty and honest face looked back at me.  "Taking a nap?" she asked with a shy grin.

When I saw the genuine nervousness in her eyes and her smile, I relaxed entirely and knew everything was now going to be okay, for me at least.  "Hi," I said, choosing not to answer her question but instead reaching my hand across the table, "I'm Anthony."

"Sarah," she said, returning the gesture.

"So Sarah," I said, leaning back and trying to casually wipe the remaining sweat from my cheeks and nose, "what's your story?"

As Sarah blushed and began to talk, I looked straight ahead and did my best to listen.  Her eyes were pretty, but not the captivating cesspools of the wicked woman who now sat a few feet away talking to the man to my left.  May God have mercy on that man's soul.