Chapter 32 - The Ocean Blue Eyes
We were lost that night, not knowing where to go and having to fumble through the shadows. There was an aura of uneasiness about our surroundings, but Eugene's comforting presence was a ray of peace in the darkness. It's hard to say when his company turned into a comfort, but there was no denying the sense that everything would be alright with him around.
Driven by the rumbling protestations of our empty tummies, we went to a local tavern. Despite its unassuming position, the institution greeted us with an unexpected influx of customers. The snug yet lively environment transformed into a paradoxical sanctuary, with a growing number of people acting as a barrier against the possible shadows and anxieties that a quiet location may offer. In the midst of the vibrant crowd, our hunger was satisfied, and the camaraderie of the occasion gave an unexpected flavor to our otherwise aimless night.
The decaying pub shone in the gentle, golden glow of dim lighting, creating a nostalgic and slightly spooky atmosphere. Eugene stood out from the crowd, exuding a mesmerizing and charming atmosphere. His presence was like a beacon, smoothly cutting through the faded surrounds, providing a touch of beauty and appeal to the otherwise bleak setting. Under the delicate light, his face spread like a map of alluring angles. A sharply defined jawline created a canvas for his features, each adding a brushstroke to his unmistakable charm. His high cheekbones created beautiful shadows, hinting elegance, while his straight and bold nose exuded classic beauty. But it was his smile, which was frequently seen on his lips, that clinched the deal. Warm and inviting, it curled like a welcoming port, implying both power and kindness. He was a masterpiece: forceful but approachable, a living paradox that made perfect sense.
"What are you daydreaming about?" "Cease your distracted staring and, for goodness sake, wipe that telltale drool; it's utterly embarrassing," he screamed, his voice cutting through the air with a mix of laughter and fake reprimand. The unexpected interruption jarred you back to reality, banishing the ephemeral fancies that had briefly occupied your mind.
'The allegation hung in the air like an unwelcome frost. Are you drooling over him? The mere thought seems ridiculous. You, as a person of substance and self-respect, would not lower yourself to become simply another bystander enthralled by someone else's love entanglements. Your own beauty, an expression of confidence and elegance, exemplified your attraction. Your expectations were high, reflecting your sophisticated taste, and you had no doubt that the right person would meet, if not surpass, them.
You persuaded yourself that you were not a bystander pining for someone else's mate; you were a person of substance with a firm sense in your own value. The idea that you would have a brief slip, losing your cool over someone else's significant other, was absurd, and it contradicted the whole spirit of your self-assured persona.' - My mind struggled with a chaotic combination of thoughts, each contradicting the other in an endless dance of confusion.
In a frantic attempt to center myself, I unintentionally stroked my lips, a subconscious attempt to corroborate the charge that had gotten me upset. In a low murmur, I questioned the strangeness of the scenario, thinking, "Did I really drool?" I reflexively swept my fingertips across my lips, only to discover that they were as dry as withered blades of dead grass, dispelling the ridiculous notion that had temporarily interrupted my thoughts.
I covertly glanced at Eugene, only to catch him giggling quietly. "Why did you lie about me drooling?" I shot back at him, a frivolous allegation with no actual weight. In reality, I felt warm inside knowing that he felt comfortable enough around me to indulge in friendly banter.
As we chatted, the bartender's yell cut through the background commotion, indicating the delivery of our orders. Eugene appeared to say something in the middle of the chaos, but it was lost in the din. "Couldn't help it; you kind of looked cute," he may have remarked, his voice slightly muffled by the background noise. The unexpected praise sent a thrill down my spine, causing a flush that revealed my effort at nonchalance. Curiosity got the best of me, so I asked him, "What?" However, he reacted with flippant nonchalance, saying that it made no difference, leaving me to consider the tantalizing enigma of his words.
As we sat there, eating and drinking, there was a distinct quiet between us, punctuated by quick, abrupt remarks. Every query was replied with a quick "yeah" or a pondering "hm," resulting in an unusual environment full of unsaid thoughts. It seemed alien to both me and, I suspected, Eugene.
The quiet mood puzzled me. How could he respond to whatever sentiments I had? It seemed ridiculous given his evident and passionate love for Iris. His affection was so intense that I couldn't understand my place in his life—certainly nowhere like the deep bond he had with Iris.
Surprisingly, the absence of jealousy within me was more unnerving than quiet. I reasoned that I did not deserve to feel these emotions. I was only a second, an afterthought, caught at the wrong time. How could I ever compare to the strong relationship he had with Iris? The understanding left me feeling insignificant, like if I inhabited a space in his life that was dwarfed by the remaining echo of Iris in his heart.