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deep
breath, and focus on remaining cool and tranquil. But the feeling
that someone is watching me doesn’t go away. I look up and see him,
a boy about my age, observing me. He’s staring at me with no
impunity, no shame at such a blatant disregard for the rules. It’s
illegal for a male to covet another man’s promised fiancée. Going
after the woman of another is punishable under the law by death. It
is deemed a threat to our society’s good functions. It is not a
matter to be taken lightly. Yet, this boy is devouring me whole
with his eyes. He doesn’t turn his head away when I look at him
either. He keeps on eyeing me steadily without blinking, with
curiosity and something else I can’t quite pinpoint but that makes
me feel special, strangely alive. His gaze is intense, piercing
through my skull, examining every detail of my face. I feel visible
for the first time in my life.
    I turn my eyes away and don’t dare
look back. It’s not becoming for a proper young girl to look at
men, let alone stare at them. We are not to feel desire for men
other than our betrothed. Only one man is to be the object of our
adoration. Whether that veneration is faked or not doesn’t matter.
We are all well aware of the lies, but this façade is the only
thing protecting our society and hiding the imperfections of its
foundation.
    I can still feel his eyes on me
though, and in spite of my own will, I glance at him again. I can’t
help myself; my eyes shift and I look up. He's still staring at me,
his lids not fluttering once. And instead of averting my eyes as I
should, I examine him, his face, and his posture. His irises are
dark brown, almost black from this distance. His hair is dark brown
too, falling over his forehead, almost obstructing his eyes. It
looks disheveled in a natural way though he probably spent time
working on it. His skin is tanned, his nose is long and straight,
and his mouth is nicely shaped, his lips full. He's handsome. The
thought reaches my mind before I can suppress it. I flush as heat
engulfs me, and a flirtatious grin appears on his face.
    He has caught me blushing under
his stare—an obvious sign that he interests me. I didn’t mean to
open that door to him; I didn’t mean to seem inviting. And now,
it’s too late to turn back and pretend that I didn’t care about his
watching me. I hide my confusion by looking at my feet, but I can
still feel him contemplating me, just for a few seconds before his
gaze shifts away. I look up, but he’s watching the game now. A pang
of disappointment grasps my heart, a part of me hoping he was still
staring.
    My heart races when I gaze at him.
Everyone around me will soon hear its beat and turn around to judge
me. They will see the shameful thoughts printed all over my face in
scarlet letters. I cast one quick glance around to make sure no one
has witnessed this reprehensible exchange. My parents are deeply
enthralled by the game, and everyone else is either chatting or
watching the match. No one’s paying attention to me—no one but that
one boy that is.
    His image is now printed in my
mind, his face filling my vision. I have this desperate need to
look at him again. I know I shouldn't, and it makes me want to do
it even more. I try my best to focus on William instead, but to no
avail. I can’t control this urge inside me. I turn around and study
the boy's profile. He’s as handsome from the side as he is from the
front. That thought alone makes my heart ache with deep longing. I
find myself wanting what I know I can’t possibly have, and I know
it’s bad, really bad.
    He must have felt my eyes upon him
because he shoots me a glance from the corners of his eyes. It
lasts but a flicker of a second, just long enough for my heart to
jump with frantic joy. I somehow care what this boy thinks of me,
knowing quite well that in the end it won't ever matter. This
encounter won't lead anywhere; I’ll never know anything more about
him. I’d better forget it ever