Chapter 7

He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar.

I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.

As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that's almost impossible to describe.

That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.

Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn't noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.

Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn't bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference.

The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.

He brings a cool glass of crystal clear water to my lips, gently pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.

"Yes," I barely whisper.

"Okay, good," he smiles brightly.

I suddenly find it hard to speak. "T-thanks for s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a musical laugh, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.

"It was a pleasure."

I feel self-conscious; suddenly disconcerted by the way he is scanning my face, my body. I start to feel nervousness when I meet his gaze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach.

The need arises to avoid this strange, alien behavior towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.

I quickly sit up, my back reposed on the fluffy pillows, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the side. Before I succeed in depositing my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips.

I feel a tingle of a delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering a little before pulling away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, rather laughingly.