ZEIN
"You left me."
Sometimes I hate how weak I am for him. How my heart lurches in my throat when he looks at me like this, my whole body tensing in anticipation of him. Always him. His next touch, his next words, how he is going to look at me… It's all I keep waiting for.
He is drunk, from the way he is slouched sadly on the bar stool, elbows on the counter as he still plays with his drink. I would find it cute, if not for the way he is looking at me.
His eyes are glassy, but that doesn't hide the heat, the intensity behind them, and any cuteness that he might present is cancelled out by the hungry way he is looking at me. How he has always looked at me, as if he wants to eat me up, live inside my skin, and never come out.
"What?" I ask, swallowing dryly when I finally find my voice. Surely he doesn't mean what he means, right?
