I still remember the first day that I saw him. Or rather, that he saw me. I was fighting with my boyfriend, rather loudly. It was a silly fight; we were in my bedroom, fighting across the sea of blue sheets that was my bed. I was standing with my arms on my hips in nothing but my blue lace thong. The thong that I'd worn hoping to tempt him into something more than gentle necking. It hadn't worked.
We were fighting because I didn't always want to 'make love', he acted as if I were a china doll and I would shatter at any moment. I'm certain now that is was due to my size. I'm very small. I'm barely five feet tall, and my skin is milky in color, but it contrasts nicely with my hair that is the color of moonbeam silk. I've never had any confidence issues. My eyes were narrowed and I knew I was very close to yelling when he stormed over and grabbed my arms. I wasn't alright with that, although to admit, it was the most passion I'd seen from him.
I can't even recall what was said, only that I pushed him off and stormed out into my living room. The picture window on the rear wall of my second story apartment was my sanctuary, I would look out of it if I were emotionally distraught sometimes and just watch the people on the street below, considering I wasn't really that high. Just high enough that no one noticed me. I folded my arms over my breasts and cocked a hip against the frame of the window. I was no longer in the mood for a fight.
My boyfriend realized his words were falling on deaf ears because I was listening to the noises of the city below from the open side panels of the window. I was watching someone wend their way down the darkened street to the building across from mine. It was also an apartment building. The man stopped and slowly turned to face me, our gazes locked. Somewhere in the distance I could tell that my boyfriend was behind me going insane because I wasn't listening. But I was fully ensconced in this situation at hand. The man was much taller than me, from what I could tell. He was wearing a pair of beige slacks with a black button down and very nice black shoes that shone in the lamplight. He was everything that I never find attractive. If it weren't for the way he held himself, and his piercing gaze, I may never have noticed him.
I could only tell that his hair was dark and he had a face that would make the angels jealous. It dimly occurred to me that I was mostly naked and the lights in my apartment were on. The window dropped to knee level, I realized I was at a mild disadvantage. My chest was covered with only my arms, and still he watched me, even as I dropped my gaze to listen to my boyfriend's last words of "fuck you bitch", as he slammed the door on his way out. I let out a long sigh and turned my head back to my window, my watcher was making his way to the door of his building and I watched curiously, to see if maybe his apartment was on this side.
After about two minutes a light came on one floor above mine. He appeared in his window, and I was surprised at the detail with which I could see him. I knew that he could see pretty much my whole apartment from up there, and if I had a quality of detail, then so did he. He let his gaze linger on mine for a while longer, until I gave him a shy smile, then turned and walked away. Slowly. I didn't close my blinds.
The next day, I made myself coffee and got dressed to run, I did my morning stretches in front of the news as usual and turned to the window to see how the world was this morning. I looked down at the street, but what had caught my eye was my watcher standing in his window. I pretended not to see him. He may or may not have believed it. He was sipping his coffee, or maybe it was tea, out of a mug, wearing as far as I could see, only pants. I managed to pry myself from the window and finally go running.
That became our ritual, my watcher and I. Every day, I would pretend that I didn't see him as he watched me. I would pretend I didn't know he was watching me stretch. I would pretend I didn't know he was watching my Yoga routine. When I went out on my once a week dinner night, I would pretend not to notice him sitting at the other end of the bar. I would pretend that I didn't feel the weight of his gaze like the touch of a hand. And if the bartender came to me, and told me that my drink had been paid for, I would look around with wide blue eyes, and pretend I didn't think it was him. When I walked across my living room in my underwear, I would pretend I didn't feel him watching me. And when I went to bed, I would pretend I didn't miss the weight of his gaze.
I lay in bed sometimes, wondering what was wrong with me, that I would enjoy this voyeuristic relationship. I wondered sometimes if I shouldn't just summon him through my window with the crook of my finger. I wondered if he would come. I wondered at the heat that I felt from his gaze alone that I had never felt from anyone I'd ever actually been with, and thought maybe there was something wrong with me. I would fall asleep and dream about my watcher in ways I had not yet dreamt about anyone.
The day we first touched, was on my usual dinner night where I had dinner at the bar and a glass of wine. No one was foolish enough to hit on me; I'd been coming there far too long to be a lonely bar maid. Sometimes my watcher would come with me, and seat himself far enough away that I couldn't look at him without being obvious. But I would know that he was watching me. I would sip on my wine and have small talk with the bartender about his family and his life. But this night was different. I would always dress provocatively on these nights. I wanted to compliment my watcher, that night I was wearing a very small black dress and red heels. It was summer, so I could get away with it. I was still only five foot three with my heels on.
I was in the middle of sipping my wine, and enjoying the taste, when out of nowhere the fire alarm started going off. I was so surprised that I nearly spilled my wine, but I managed to sit the glass carefully on the counter. Everyone immediately started streamlining for the door, I was lost amidst the mass of people, and started getting carried this way and that. I am too small to cut a path through the crowd. I felt someone's hands come down on my upper arms; they were warm, and very big. His hands circled my arms like cuffs and steered me safely through the panicked throng of people, I resisted the urge to stop and look up at him, to see him so near for the first time. I wanted to hear his voice and see if it matched the one I'd imagined.
By the time we were outside and well away from the crowd, I was flushed. We stopped next to a brick building at the end of the block, away from the noise and hustle, he was still behind me, steering me at the small of my back. I stopped and turned around, and came face to face with my watcher for the first time. He was still alarmingly attractive. His eyes were like whiskey and his hair was that color between black and brown. It was short, shorter than I'd normally find attractive, but it was thick, and in the breeze it shifted a little. My eyes travelled to his mouth, which was shaped so sinfully I had trouble bringing my gaze back to his eyes. He waited until I met his gaze to drop his and start at my feet and bring his eyes back to mine. I knew that I was breathing a little fast, and my cheeks were flushed. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you."
He gave me a little half smile, "You're welcome." His voice was deep and smooth; it made me think of honey.
I took a step closer, and he did not retreat, just continued to look down into my face. I narrowed my eyes, "and thank you for my wine as well." I said, my voice lower than normal, I think we both knew why.
He stepped closer to me, I didn't retreat either. A strong breath would've made us touch, but neither of us was breathing. "You're welcome for that too." He whispered into my ear.
I was afraid that I would melt into the sidewalk if he touched me; I was practically humming with want. I was afraid that if he didn't touch me I'd go insane. I did the smart thing and took a step backwards. Right into the rough brick behind me.
