I watch and notice and analyze him.
His hair is grown out even more in the past month. If he didn’t need a haircut before, he definitely needs one now.
I look at his body.
His big shoulders, broad and strong. His lean, cut torso.
Then I move down to his thighs.
They bulge under his jeans when he shifts on his feet, showing me how powerful they are. His thighs, his calves.
I have to admit that I’ve always been so fascinated by them, by his legs. By his footwork.
I’m a ballerina, right?
I see footwork in my dreams. I’ve seenhisfootwork in my dreams too.
I’ve seen him stealing the ball, dribbling it across the field, sending it flying across the field so many, many times. Both in real life and in dreams.
I also have to admit that when I decided to never seek out any information about him, cut all the ties, I was sad that I’d never see him play.
I was sad that I’d never get to witness his breathtaking footwork, his majestic skills on the field.
I was sad.
I am sad tonight too.
Sad and miserable and so melancholic. So blue and gray.
As gray as the smoke coming out of his mouth. Because he’s got a cigarette clenched between his teeth.
He hardly ever smokes, this villain. The one who blackmails and locks me up in closets and chases after me when I run. But if he’s smoking tonight, then that means he’s cold.
Even though the October weather isn’t all that chilly. Not yet.
But I know him.
I know that he gets cold easily. That’s why I made him that sweater. The night before everything happened.
The night he kissed me.
I wonder what he did with it. I wonder if he threw it away.
I don’t have the courage to ask him though.
Besides, I’m going to need my courage for other things tonight.
So I walk toward him, coming out of my hiding place. My feet crunch on the leaves and the gravel, alerting him to my presence, and he looks up.
His gaze homing in on me as always.
His gaze roving all over me as always.
Like he has every right to do that. He has every right to watch me, take me in, take me apart, turn me inside out and castme aside when he’s done. And tonight, his wolf eyes are even hungrier.
Because I’m wearing his favorite color.
White.
