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We spend the next five minutes listening to the father of the bride make what has to be the longest toast I’ve ever witnessed, yet I don’t hear a single thing he says.
I’m too busy tracing the side of Abel’s face with my eyes. Taking in his sharp, scruff covered jaw and the way his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. It’s like I’m a woman obsessed.
Yeah, I’ve been attracted to men before, but never like this. Never where it felt I was going to spontaneously combust just by looking at a person.
Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with a man. Maybe it’s because I know he’s hurting, and I want to be the one who takes away his pain. Or maybe he has this power over every woman and I’m too weak to resist his pull. Whatever it is, the longer I look at him the more bothered I become.
So much so, that by the time Sam’s dad finally finishes, I have to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand out of fear that I might be drooling.
It’s the wine, I tell myself. I’m a little intoxicated which always makes every situation feel more intense. But then what’s my excuse for earlier? What’s my reasoning for practically undressing the man with my eyes every time we are near each other?
I shake my head, trying to clear the cluttered thoughts.
“You okay?” Abel asks and I quickly flatten my expression, not sure what he may have seen on my face that would make him think I wasn’t okay.
“Yeah, fine.” I throw on an easy smile, not sure how much longer I can keep this up.
