There was nothing innocent about the way she lowered her eyes. He saw it in the timing, in the deliberate pause, in the way she forced the silence to expand before breaking it with a glance.
They were seated across from one another, the table littered with empty glasses and half-finished sentences. He was speaking—he couldn’t even recall about what—when she suddenly dropped her gaze. Her lashes fell like a curtain, hiding her expression, leaving him staring at the top of her lowered face.
It disarmed him. He faltered mid-sentence, uncertain whether she was dismissing him or drawing him in. And then, slowly, she lifted her eyes again—not directly, not fully, but from beneath her lashes. It was subtle, but devastating. The kind of look that wasn’t meant to be bold—it was meant to be felt.
Her gaze struck him with more force than words ever could. It was quiet, questioning, suggestive. A glance that asked something without needing to phrase it. And he, caught in that silent question, felt heat rise under his collar.
She did it again. Looked down, breaking away as if shy, as if hesitant. Then up again, lashes framing her eyes like a secret door opening just for him. It was a game, he realized, and she was winning. Each repetition drew him further into the pull of her presence, until he found himself leaning forward without meaning to, his voice softer than before.
Her hands rested lightly on the table, unmoving, but it was her eyes that held him captive. They flickered down, then back up, carrying with them the weight of things unsaid. He could feel the air between them shift, charged with tension he didn’t know how to name.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and she noticed. Of course she noticed. Her lips curved faintly, just enough to suggest she was aware of the effect she had on him.
That glance—down and up, lashes heavy, eyes sharp—wasn’t merely a look. It was a touch across distance, a brush of something forbidden, a promise folded neatly inside silence. And as she did it one final time, holding his gaze longer now, he knew he was no longer in control of this exchange.
She hadn’t spoken a word, but she had said everything.