Beautiful Eyes and Gorgeous Smiles

My heart thumped furiously. I must have stared dumbly for a while, because he glared at me, then sighed and closed his eyes.

"Please leave," he said tiredly. That got me out of my state of shock. I went and sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't... help overhearing your conversation."

He brought his left hand up to rub his face. It was then I noticed the ring on his fourth finger. My heart sank? He was married? Meaning no longer eligible... Then I remembered his conversation with that Alisha person. His wife cheated on him and got pregnant? What a bitch.

"I bet you could," he muttered.

"I'm sorry."

Silence. Then – "It's alright. Could you please leave now?"

I shook my head. (Looking back, he must have thought me such an obstinate mule.) He glared. Those eyes... I sighed. "Okay, I'll leave. But... you're not going to... Do anything, are you? Don't jump or do anything silly. You wouldn't die, just break a lot of bones, and it'll hurt like hell. If you want to jump to your death you ought to go to the roof instead, maybe you'd succeed then –" My eyes widened upon realising what I had just said. "Oh no, please don't do that. It's not worth it. She's not worth it, I mean. What wife cheats on her husband and gets knocked up? She's not worth it, not worth your life, okay? Don't feel upset. Too upset that is..."

He looked at me oddly, and I clamped both hands over my mouth in horror. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" I squeaked. For a moment he looked like he was about to laugh, then he turned away again.

"I promise I won't jump or do anything to kill myself. Now leave."

I got up obediently, looking back as I exited. He looked so lost, hurt. Numb. An idea occurred to me and I bounded back to my apartment. Well, attempted to. My foot throbbed painfully as I made two cups of hot chocolate. (I suspected the cut had gotten infected or summat.) After which I added a bar of dark chocolate. I grinned, carrying the cups out to the stairwell. Everyone loved my hot chocolate. Maybe he would feel better and not be suicidal anymore.

He was still there, thank goodness, or a perfectly good cup of hot chocolate would have gone to waste, and I would be worried wondering if he was somewhere up on the roof...

He looked up as I entered. "I thought I told you to leave," he said, looking pointedly toward the door. "I did, but you never said anything about not coming back," I replied cheerfully, plopping myself down beside him. "I'll make myself clearer next time," he growled, but his annoyed tone lost its desired effect since he was distracted by the cups of (delicious!) hot chocolate. He looked down at the cup I held out to him.

"What's that? Smells good," he said before he could stop himself. Then he had the most adorable embarrassed look on his face EVER. Just for a moment though, before he wiped his face clear of emotion again.

I grinned. "Hot chocolate."

I watched in fascination as his eyes lit up like a little boy's. I took the opportunity to examine his lashes closely. By golly were they long! It hadn't been my imagination at work after all. "Here." I handed him the cup.

"For me?" he looked surprised, astonished. "No, it's for the person beside you." He looked a little bewildered. I resisted rolling my eyes. "Yes you!" His beautiful blue eyes sparkled with amusement, then gratitude. "Thanks." He smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. (Had he worn braces before? It was impossible to have teeth that straight naturally!) I was struck by ho the smile changed his face. It was gorgeous, catching, so much so that I couldn't help but smile back. "You're welcome."

We drank in silence.

Then he broke it. (Thank goodness he did, too, because I wouldn't have known how to.) "This is my hometown. I lived here until I was 18, then went to college and on to Oxford." Oxford? Hmmm. I wondered vaguely if he knew that doctor (the one whom I was supposed to be finishing my internship under; the one who had no sense of time and missed his first day of work; the one whom Rebecca wanted to set me up with. Take your pick).

He fiddled with the cup in his hands absently, staring into nothing as he continued.

"I met Alisha at Oxford. I was still trying to get over this girl I knew in college. It wasn't until I met Alisha that I got over my regret of never have the guts to speak to her. She was beautiful..." he drifted off.

Wow. He had a crush on a girl for two years? This was one devoted guy. Alisha really was stupid. And blind. He was hot, for goodness' sake!

Mr Hottie cleared his throat. "We dated for a few months and moved in together. I thought she was The One, you know? I was going to ask her to... to marry me, and everything. Then my mum fell ill. Pneumonia. She got pretty weak." His eyes flashed a brilliant blue. (Later I would realize this was the colour they always turned when he got pissed.) "I had to come back to take care of her. It wasn't an obligation; I wanted to. How could I not? She is my mother. She has only me." He lowered his head, staring at his shoes. Adidas sneakers, I noted approvingly.

"But Alisha didn't want me to go. It was our first real fight in the three years that we'd been together. But I left anyway." His grip on the cup tightened to the extent that his knuckles turned white. "I just moved here a week ago. Took up a job." He laughed humourlessly. "Today was my first day. And I blew it. I didn't turn up. Alisha had called and we fought again. She threatened to break up with me, said the doctors here would take care of my mother just fine. Insisted I return. I refused," he ended dully. "And the rest, well, you heard it," he finished off, giving me an empty, hollow smile, the exact opposite of the smile he had first given me at the sight of the hot chocolate.

Silence ensued. I busied myself with looking at his hands. They were beautiful; long slender fingers and sinewy muscle. Slowly, I lay my hand on his. I was reluctant to; I had always been hesitant over contact with a man of any kind beyond shaking of hands. To me, hands were special. Intimate, even. His hand felt warm, but was trembling a little. He must have been more upset than he'd let on. I squeezed his hand gently. "I'm sorry your wife is such a bitch."

He looked at me. I felt like melting, drowning in those beautiful eyes. "Wife? No, we never got married, thank God," he added after consideration. I almost sighed in relief. So he was single! And unattached and eligible... I felt like dancing. (But that would be grossly inappropriate, of course.) "Come to think of it, I should have known she was cheating on me when she said she was pregnant," he pondered aloud. He seemed to have forgotten my presence for a while. "I never slept with her." My eyes widened. "Not once in those three years?"

He shook his head. "No, not once. It didn't seem right, besides, I'm not an advocate of sleeping around." Whoa. Devoted and a gentleman? That Alisha wasn't only stupid, she was an idiot.

"How's your mum doing now? Is she better?"

He looked somewhat surprised at my question. "She's a little better, but hasn't recovered yet. She's still in the hospital." Pause. He seemed to want to say something. "Thanks for the hot chocolate."

I waved it off. "It's fine. Go back, have a good rest and forget her, alright?"

He nodded, smiling (that smile could make me swoon!), and helped me up. Foolish person that I am, I put all my weight on my right (bad) foot. "OW!" I winced, grasping his hand tightly.

"Are you alright?" His dark, deep blue eyes searched mine. My goodness, were his eyes beautiful.

"Yeah," I managed to say, enraptured by his eyes. "I just stepped on a cup this morning."


I proceeded to give him a summarized version of my eventful (and painful) morning, and he laughed, a rich, baritone voice. I shivered, admiring his voice. I wouldn't mind if someone with a voice like his serenaded me... Not that anyone ever had, and I doubted anyone ever would. "Come on, I'll clean it up for you." He tugged on my arm, gently helping me along.

My instincts kicked in, and I struggled. "No, it's fine, thank you." He didn't seem to notice my resistance. "You must disinfect it, or it might get infected." I tried to pull away. "No, it's okay! I can disinfect it myself," I replied, slightly hysterical. He stopped fishing in his pocket for his keys and looked at me oddly. Then he laughed again. I squirmed, trying to break out of his grasp.

"I'm not going to rape you, I promise." I squirmed even more. "How do I know you won't? Let go of me, please," I pleaded.

"What are you afraid of? I told you, I'm not the kind of guy who sleeps around. And I definitely do not do rape."

I stopped struggling, but trembled slightly. My over-imaginative mind didn't help matters either. Granted, the guy was hot, and if what he'd told me earlier was true, he was a good, decent guy. But if he'd lied... I shuddered at that possibility. Sure he was a good guy (well, maybe.) but that didn't mean I was wiling to give up my virginity to a guy I barely knew. Make that 'don't know at all'; I didn't even know his name!

He placed both hands on my shoulders, the warmth from his hands spreading throughout my body, calming me. He looked me in the eye. "Trust me."

Gulping, I nodded (See? It's his eyes, I just know it is!) and followed him into his apartment.

A/n: How is it? Bad? Really bad:\ Please review!