All the time. And he never thinks to brush it away. There it falls, and hangs. And he stares through it as if it doesn't bother him.
Ned said he was "dangerous." He doesn't look dangerous to me. Mostly he looks lost. And sad.
We argued. We barely know each other and we argued. About things that honestly, neither of us fully understand. It's so rare to come across someone with their heart so clearly displayed on their sleeve. Especially a man.
Man. It strikes me as the incorrect word to describe him. He's no boy. He's a guy. And he's crazy about her. I cannot even begin to comprehend that. That woman, whose goal in life it seems is to break men down. I barely know him, but I know he doesn't deserve it.
He thinks he knows my sister. He thinks he knows Sonny. I often forget that there is so much I don't know about my sister and her client, and that he knows or thinks he knows that part of her life burns a streak of jealousy in me.
So we fought. His eyes showing hurt and fear, almost mirroring my own. We fought because we were frustrated and confused. We fought because we barely know each other and it seems safer that way. Then he was touching my cheek. And his voice was low. And his eyes were softer. For a moment I saw myself.
He doesn't know me. I don't know him. But I have a feeling that we already know each other very well.
