If a picture is worth a thousand words, then his eyes are a cluster of masterpieces. I don’t even know anything about this boy with the enthralling eyes, and he certainly doesn’t know a thing about me. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t overlook him in the crowded room. Sure, he was young—around my age—and attractive. But there are hundreds of people in this gallery. Why would he of all people capture my attention?



I didn’t mean to stare, but then again he didn’t seem to mind. I was walking through a hallway, admiring a painting. When I turned around, there he stood. At that exact moment, his eyes met mine and chills ran down my spine, goose bumps chilling my entire body. We weren’t side-by-side, but I was close enough to notice the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip and forehead. I wasn’t focused on that, though. His eyes were intriguing. They were emerald gems in disguise and all I could do was stare. He watched me carefully, a glimmer dancing in his eyes.



As the seconds tick by, it feels as though everybody else disappears and it’s like the lights dim. The only thing I can see is him. It’s a cliché thought, I know, but I can’t help asking myself if this is what love at first sight feels like. I actively try smiling at him, but the muscles that work to curve my lips upward aren’t working, so I just stand there with my mouth slightly open, eyes wide. He isn’t smiling either, though. I can’t read the expression on his face, partly because the only thing I am focused on are his eyes.



They’re dark green. They’re the pine trees in the middle of the forest, when the sun is hitting them at the perfect angle. They’re the brush that you use to start a wildfire, which was igniting in my chest. They are clearer than the water that streams down a mountain after it snows, more beautiful than the waves crashing at the shore. They are that 3 a.m. phone call that you desperately wish to receive from somebody you love. They are fueled with passion and wild with lust. They’re a guise for something greater, for something incredible that is hiding within this boy.



Six. Six seconds have passed and his eyes are still on mine. Finally, he glances away. I sigh, feeling unreasonably disappointed that the moment has passed. He’s just a stranger, anyway. I don’t even know anything about this boy with the enthralling eyes, and he certainly doesn’t know a thing about me. So, with a lingering sense of longing that I can’t quite explain, I continue to marvel at the artwork hanging on the walls and try to forget the pieces that are alive in his eyes.

“Excuse me?”



I turn around and, to my surprise, there he is. I’m tempted to get lost in his eyes again, but I control myself. He smiles gently, holding out his hand for me to shake. I reach out and, the second our skin touches, my veins turn to ice and I hold my breath. As I pull away, the ice melts and is replaced with flame and it spreads in my blood, reddening my cheeks. I silently scold my body for reacting in such a way. I don’t know anything about this boy with the enthralling eyes, and he certainly doesn’t know a thing about me.

“Hello,” he said, the sound of his voice forming a small knot in my stomach.

“Hello,” I echo.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I believe that's true. I don’t know a thing about you.”



He takes a step closer, his eyes focusing on mine. For a second, I forget how to breathe and I mutely scream at my lungs for forgetting such a simple task. He’s still watching me as I catch my breath, still watching me as I look away uncomfortably, still watching as I finally look at him.

“And I don’t know a thing about you. But I want to."