He’d love anything with pretty eyes and long legs. The click clack of heels are music to his ears, his eyes slyly following the tune. He puts the frosted glass to his lips, the cold sip he takes giving you goosebumps.
His shoulders spill over the chair he sits in. He leans back in the seat, a confident relaxation taking over his posture, just a touch of arrogance when he puts one arm over the chair’s back. He spots you with a side-eyed glance, eyes fixated for just one second too long.
The boyish grin is in contention with the stubble poking from his cheeks. He leans in just a little too close while you’re telling a story, and his unwavering eye contact shows you that he’s hanging on your every word. His crooked smirk makes your breath catch in your throat, only for a second. His hand is on your knee as you both laugh at his sarcastic one-liner.
His eyes are aqua, a strange mix of green and blue. You find yourself not listening to the sweet sound of his voice, but rather trying to determine what color they are depending on which way the light catches them. The subtle contact he makes is no mistake.
His lips taste like the scotch that filled his once full cup. His fingers graze your neck. His tongue finds yours and a low moan transfers from his mouth to yours, so that you’re unsure of who let it escape.
The bow tie is wrapped around his neck like a noose, but the irony is that it’s meant for you.
***
Those eyes trick you into thinking you can see into his soul, but hindsight is 20/20 and now you don’t think he has one. His laugh that once had a musical ring now sounds hollow, as if his body is as empty as a decaying, dead tree.
You notice the nails that dug into your back last night have dirt under them, as if he dug his way out of a grave. The crooked smile and boyish charm that blinded you are just a condescending trick. He knows he deceived you, that he won.
The lips that parted yours have been drained of color. His legs that shook from you last night seem strong as they carry him away without so much as a glance for a good-bye. It’s not until the morning that as he’s sneaking away through the hallway, you see the horns peeking out.
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Bits of Broken Pieces 