She’s mine and she doesn’t even know it yet.
When she finally emerges, I almost panic as she takes a different path back to her seat. Watching intently, I see her talk to the waitress before turning toward her table. Several executive type guys are clustered around the girls she came with, flirting with them as if they are God’s gift to women. What a joke. More like a waste of space. I could snap one of them in half with minimal effort and they’d never even see me coming. They wouldn’t be able to defend themselves much less protect the woman they’re with. I’ve never understood how men like that could look at themselves in the mirror every day without being completely disgusted with what they see. No way is one of these panty wasters, man enough for my woman.
As if taking my thoughts as a challenge, one of those fuckers approaches her. I’m out of my seat and walking toward them in a nanosecond, ready to beat the guy to a bloody pulp, but then I hear her beautiful voice for the first time. “Not on your life, pretty boy.” Calmly, she turns to leave as if she hasn’t just made my night.
I think I’m in love.
My feet move of their own accord. I can’t take my eyes off of her as I follow her outside. She knows I’m here, I saw her posture stiffen as she felt me watching. Her steps faltering only momentarily, but she maintains her composure, never looking in my direction. Keeping her head held high as if she owns the place, I realize, in this moment, she owns me as well. Her hips sway as she pointedly ignores me. With confident strides, she finds her car and climbs in. Not wanting to scare her, I stand by the door, just taking her in. What will she do next?
Like a slow-motion video, she raises her eyes to meet mine. My heart races and it’s hard to breathe. I know she has the most beautiful emerald green eyes, I saw them as she walked past me in the restaurant, but to see her looking directly at me, even through the glass of her windshield thirty plus feet away, they are so intense. I’m lost to her. She could ask me for anything, and I’d get it for her, I’d do anything for her.
Is it crazy? Yes.
Do I care? No.
She’s mine. Secretly I beg her to get out of her car and come and talk to me. I get the feeling that she is contemplating just that, so I wait. Hours, minutes, seconds later, she shakes herself slightly before pulling out of the lot. I let out a sigh of disappointment. Reaching for my keys, there’s no question, I have to follow her.