I stared into his eyes from across the table. They were slightly glazed and his pupils were a dilated. Perhaps they were fine and mine were just fuzzy. It really could have been both this far into the evening. I could feel the weight of my eyelids and the tight dryness in my eyes. The lights seemed so bright overhead. I looked down at the counter top and stared at my hand. It seemed much smaller than usual next to his. He was bigger in the only way he could be. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but I knew that I was waiting. Instead of starting the conversation I feigned ignorance and continued to stare at my hand, to stare at anything but his eyes. The silence was quickly broken.
“So, are you seeing him? You don’t have to lie,” I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.
We sat waiting for our food. It was late 6:30am. The sun was beginning it's embrace over the mountain.
“I didn’t want you to know, is all. Would it make a difference?” I met his gaze this time. I had too.
He took a deep drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke into my face. He did this when he wanted to be obnoxious. He was succeeding.
“So, are you going to keep seeing him? Or is that it?”
I knew what he was asking, and even though my head was screaming “No!” my heart spoke before I could stop it. There was no time to weigh the options.
“Why would I keep seeing him?”
Any decision after a long night of drinking is never a good idea, but it seemed right at the time. He smiled at me and I took a drag off my cigarette. This time I blew the smoke in his face.
He cocked his head sideways and looked at me asking .
“What?” and I reached for his hand.