Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer but Whiskey Eyes belongs to Obsessedmom © 2010 please don't steal it.
I sat on my stool staring at the reflections in the mirrored wall behind the bar. The heels of my boots were resting on the brass foot rest keeping me from bouncing my knee in anxiety. I watched the image of perfection, his hand was wrapped around a glass of whiskey and his eyes matched the liquid's color. The cast of the neon beer signs made them capture glints of gold making them deeper and richer. He was sitting only four stools away from me but seemed unaware of my presence. I knew the feeling of letting your mind wander, of letting the world around you drop away and sinking into yourself and everything else disappearing. It gave me the opportunity to blatantly stare without risk of being caught.
He wore a black shirt with pearl snaps instead of buttons. The sleeves were folded back and pushed above his elbow revealing strong muscular forearms dusted with fair blond hairs. The muscles flexed as his twisted his glass, swirling the amber whiskey. He had on crisp black jeans that appear to be so starched that they could stand on their own. His black leather belt sported a large oval silver buckle, the type awarded to the rodeo champions. His boots seemed to be made of some reptile… snake or alligator, I couldn't be sure. They rested on the brass foot rest less than a dozen feet from my own. My eyes traveled back up the length of this man in black. Did his black clothing reflect his mood, his heart? Was it sadness or grief that had him so lost in thought that the world ceased to exist around him?
I once again looked at his face reflected in the bar mirror. His nose was slightly crooked as if he had been tossed off a bucking horse and broke it but it had never been properly set. His rugged jaw line was scruffy with a day or two's growth of hair which only enhanced his masculinity. I wanted to feel his whiskers; would they be soft or bristly? Would they tickle or scratch? His blond hair fell in soft waves curling over the collar of his shirt. I felt myself pulled to him and I slid over one seat closer to him. He made no outward indication that he was aware of my presence so I bravely moved over to the next seat.
Now only one seat separated us. He had completely captured and enraptured me. He had lured me to him unbeknownst to me. He raised his eyes and met mine in bar mirror before he swiveled in his seat to face me directly. I lost any boldness that I had previously possessed and dropped my eyes to the worn surface of the bar. He spoke to me with the voice of an angel, "I have been waiting for you for a long time."
A/N This is a little drabble that was stuck in my head and I thought I would share it with you.
I never identify the narrator ~~ Who do you think it is?