In Her Eyes

         I quietly sipped on my coffee and stared out into the hazy forest from my back porch. I pulled my robe tighter against my chest and scratched the rough patch of hair under my chin. I saw my reflection in the black sea that turned against the inside of my cup and froze for a minute. I sighed and set the cup down.
         I reached for the photo album and placed it on my lap. Cautiously, I flipped through the memories of my past. It seemed so long ago, yet somehow the twenty years that passed since I graduated high school seemed to have slipped through my fingers. I slowly peeled back one page at a time, as if carefully stripping a banana of its skin.
         I knew the picture well. It became a ritual—a tradition of mine—to pull out the album in the early mornings of June and recollect on the days that was in love. I felt an uncanny feeling of nostalgia as I sifted through the photos, remembering every memory that I secretly held inside. 
         There is it was. The picture of her. The sun glistened across the glossy photograph, and for a split second, her eyes sparkled on the page as I met her gaze. They sparkled just the way they had on the night I took the picture. The night we fell in love.
         I rested my head against the cool brick of the house and let my eyes close. I listened as the birds sang from the trees. I listened as the wind moved across the grass. I listened as my heart throbbed inside my chest, aching for the memory of her.

         We met freshman year on the school bus. It was crammed with kids, and the only open seat was next to her. I couldn’t complain. I plopped down and introduced myself.
         “Hey,” I said. “I’m Dan.”
         “I’m not interested in having sex with you, Dan,” she said.
         “Sex?”
         Her eyes were focused on the window. “Yeah, sex.”
         I slumped down and stared at the seat in front of me. Girls were so confusing. I was just trying to make small talk. I shook my head and pulled the book I was reading from my bag.
         “Catcher in the Rye?” she said.
         I looked up at her and squinted.
         “It’s the first day of school. Do you read for fun or something?” she said.
         I stared blankly. I knew I wasn’t like the other guys in my grade. I liked to read. I liked to write. I was a sensitive kid. But I didn’t want some hot blond sitting next to me on the bus to know the truth.
         “I uh…I don’t read for fun.” I said. “It’s for an English class I’m taking.”
         She lowered her eyes at me and I watched a small grin escape her lips. “You can’t fool me. You like to read, huh? Don’t you?”
         I shoved the book back inside my bag and coolly ran my fingers through the mess of hair on my head.
         “It’s a good book,” I said.
         “I know it is,” she said. “I’ve read it four times.”
         “You read?” I said.
         “I love to read. Didn’t think a bombshell like me was smart, huh, sex boy?” she said. She dug her elbow into my ribs and laughed.
         “I didn’t…I mean, I never said that.”
         “My name’s Reese,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Dan.”

         The two of us grew closer after our first encounter on the bus. Every day after school we’d go to her house and sprawl out on the basement floor. We’d sip on Coke and watch TV. She’d make fun of me for being a nerd, and I’d make fun of her for being a dumb blond. Even though I really was a nerd, she really wasn’t a dumb blond. She was brilliant, but no one ever gave her credit because she was too pretty to be smart.
         She could read me better than anyone ever had, and it was crazy because I could do the same with her. We clicked almost instantly, and before long we were inseparable. Everyone thought we were a couple. We both knew that would never happen.
         She made it known that we were strictly friends, and I liked it that way. I was a virgin and didn’t know the first thing about girls. I didn’t feel pressured when I was with her. We were comfortable with each other. We trusted each other. We relied on each other.
         On the weekends we’d go to parties. I’d go talk to my friends and she’d go talk to hers, but at the end of the night we left together. We’d go back to her basement and smoke a joint, and then we’d drink her dad’s beer and talk about life. It became our weekend routine.

         I grabbed two beers from the basement fridge and cracked them open. She turned the TV on. A late night sex show flashed across the screen.
         “Dan?” she said.
         I looked over at her and chugged my beer.
         “Are you a virgin?”
         I nearly choked. “What? No! I’m no virgin!”
         “Who did you have sex with, then?”
         “This…this one girl. Met her at summer camp.” I finished my beer.
         “You never went to summer camp, liar. You’re a virgin!”
         I shook my head and got up for another drink.
         “You want one?” I said.
         I felt her hands reach around my waist. My body froze.
         “Want to know a secret?” she said.
         I turned to face her.
         She kept her hands around my waist. “I’m a virgin, too.”
         I tried to keep my cool, but my mind was racing as she pressed her body against mine. Her? A virgin?          
         “What are you doing?” I said. “I thought we were strictly friends.”
         She pushed herself up onto her toes and rested her mouth against my ear. “We are just friends. But no one ever said friends couldn’t fool around, right?”
         My mouth hung open and I could feel the drool dripping down my chin. She grabbed my hand and pushed me onto the couch. I panted as she spread her legs over mine and sat on top of me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and looked into my eyes.
         “We’re both virgins, right?” she said. “Maybe we should practice on each other. You know, so when we have sex with someone else, we’ll be ready.”
         Before I could answer, her mouth was on mine.
         Fooling around became another part of our weekend routine. There were no feelings between us, but we became pretty good at pleasing one another. We’d both had other relationships over the years, but we’d still continue to secretly hook up in her basement. We were just friends, but in some strange way, we were addicted to each other.

         I rolled some marijuana into a thin paper and licked the edge. I pressed down on the joint and looked up at her.
         “Do you ever wonder where you’ll end up? You know, like twenty years from now?” she said.
         I laughed and pinched the joint between my lips. “Here in this basement.”
         “I’m serious, Dan. We’re graduating in a few days. We aren’t always going to be hanging out in my basement together, you know.”
         I took a long drag and held the smoke in my lungs. “Where do you think you’ll be?” I said.
         She took the joint from my fingers. I watched the paper burn toward her mouth as she sucked in.
         We sat quietly for a while, our legs crossed as we faced each other. We didn’t speak; we just passed the joint.
         “You know where I’d like to be?” she said.
         I waited patiently and watched as the fire blazed the end of the paper.
         “I want to be happy,” she said. “I just want to be happy.”
         I snuffed the joint into the ceramic ashtray and looked into her eyes. They were red and glossy, a facade that disguised the beautiful colors underneath. I cupped her face with my hands and pushed my lips against hers.

         The night I took the picture was the night that changed everything. She was across the room telling some stupid story to some stupid boys. I sat on the opposite couch scanning the party for some stupid picture worth taking. I kept the camera steady and waited for her to look up at me.
         Her beauty stunned me as I looked in her deep, hazel eyes. I snapped the photo and tried to look away, but her stare was strong enough to keep me locked on her. Suddenly no one else in the room mattered. The party surrounding us was nothing but a blur. I held my breath. My stomach was weak. My racing heart tried to break free.
         This wasn’t my girlfriend. This wasn’t a random girl I’d met that night. This was my best friend. That second that our eyes locked was the second I knew that she was meant for me. I had just fallen in love.
         I moved next to her on the couch. I placed my hand against her warm back and gently ran my fingers across her delicate skin. She bit her lip. I knew in that moment that she felt the same way that I did. It seemed foolish, but at the same time it felt so right. So real. The world around us became unclear, and all we could focus on was how absolute everything suddenly felt.
         The feeling was pure ecstasy and nothing could bring me down from my high. I could smell her sweet breath as she whispered in my ear. I watched the way her lips danced, dying to press my own against hers. I wanted to feel butterflies flap against the walls of my stomach. I was a horny teenage boy, but for some strange reason, I wanted to give her my heart.
         The people around us were laughing and having a good time. We acknowledged them, joining conversations every now and then. But we continuously caught the eye of one another. This sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced, and my body became numb from her gaze.
         I asked myself how this could have happened. This was my best friend. Over the past four years, I had never looked at her this way.  We just fooled around; we never let it go farther than that. I became excited and scared at the same time. I looked at her and saw pure perfection. Her body was tall and thin, and she had a complexion like an angel.  Her almond-shaped eyes glistened with swirls of green and brown. I couldn’t help but question where this was going to take us.
         That night I wanted to embrace her beauty. All of my thoughts seemed to spin inside my head, and I couldn’t find the answers to any of them. How could I have fallen for her at that one moment when our eyes locked? How were our feelings frozen for so long? Were they frozen? Why did everything suddenly seem so perfect? I was caught in a fierce storm of emotions, and nothing was pulling me free.
         I watched her every move, studying the rhythm of her breathing and questioning her expressions. I searched her face for the answers, but found myself lost once again in those radiant eyes. There were times when I needed to step back from her stare and breathe.
         I was so confused, yet suddenly so complete. She knew me better than anyone, it seemed right to make her my better half. But she was my best friend, and that was something neither of us wanted to lose.

         In her basement that night, I watched the smoke swirl around her face. Her hair was pulled back and her bronzed skin glowed as the tip of the joint flickered. The glazed layer that frosted her eyes sparkled as the light reflected against them.
         She got up for a beer. “Want one?” she said.
         “Sure.”
         She grabbed two from the fridge and tossed one at me. I pulled the tab and listened to it pop under my fingers.
         “I want to be happy too, you know.” I said.
         “What would make you happy twenty years from now?” she said. She sat down and tipped her head back, letting the cool beer spill down her throat.
         “You,” I said.
         She paused and looked at me. She studied my face.
         “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
         “I’m not being ridiculous. Tonight, something changed. Didn’t you? I mean, didn’t something change for you too?”
         “You know we’re just friends.”
         “But tonight. Tonight, didn’t you realize that maybe over the years we’ve been more than just friends? Maybe we’ve really been in love.”
         She finished her beer and hurled it into the metal trashcan against the wall. The sharp clank pricked my ears.
         “In love?  Really, Dan?” she said. She rolled her eyes and reached for another joint.
         “Look back on the last four years. You can’t tell me you never thought so.”
         She ran her thumb over the metal helm of the lighter and lit the rolled paper on fire. She closed her eyes and took a drag. The smoke remained in her lungs for a while.
         “You know it could never happen like that,” she said.
         “But if we both feel it, why couldn’t it happen like that?”
         “It just couldn’t. We’re leaving here soon.” She pushed the thick smoke through her mouth. “Both going our separate ways, you know.”
         “But we don’t have to go our separate ways. We can leave here together,” I said.
         She took another long haul and passed me the joint. I took a hit and let my lungs fill with smoke.
         “It’s not that easy,” she said. “Plus, we don’t want to ruin our friendship, sex boy.” She leaned over and elbowed me in the ribs. She laughed, but when I looked down at her, I saw anguish in her eyes.
         “We’ll regret this, you know,” I said.
         “Regret what?”
         “Regret the chance we never took.”
         She smothered the joint in the ashtray and stood up. “Let’s go to bed, I’m beat,” she said.
         I watched as she dived onto the couch and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. I leaned back and rested my arms behind my head for a few minutes, unable to move. When I finally felt ready, I crawled under the blanket and curled up behind her.

         My eyes flickered open, suddenly alarmed at the bright morning sun. I cocked my head to the side and listened to the voices inside the house. I slammed the album shut and tucked it inside my robe, holding it tight against my chest.
         The door slid open. I felt her hand graze the back of my neck.
         “Good morning,” she said.
         “Good morning,” I said.
         I reached up and kissed her lips. She ran her fingertips down my cheek.
         “Breakfast is ready. The girls are waiting for you,” she said.
         I waited until she stepped back inside, then I opened the album one last time. I held my breath. My stomach was weak. My racing heart tried to break free. Her eyes still sparkled in the sun.
         I felt little hands wrap around my arm. “Hi, Daddy.” 
         I smiled.
         “Good morning, Princess,” I said.
         She leaned her head against my shoulder. Dark brown curls framed her little face and her bright blue eyes peeked down at the picture on my lap.
         “Is that pretty girl Mommy?” she said.
         I closed the album and kissed her forehead. She broke free from my arm and looked up at me with curious eyes.
         I curled my fingers around the handle of my cup and watched as my reflection rippled through the black current.
         “No, Princess,” I said. I scooped her into my arms. “No, it’s not Mommy.”