But her? Not once. Not even that subtle flick of the eyes most women do when they’re pretending not to look.
I give it a few seconds.
A full minute.
Still nothing.
A slow, amused smirk tugs at my lips.
Interesting.
It’s not just that she hasn’t looked. It’s that she hasn’t once given off the energy of someone trying not to look.
Most women who pretend not to notice me are still hyper-aware of my presence. They’ll angle their shoulders just right. They’ll play with their hair, shift their stance, wait for me to notice them first. They want me to chase. It’s part of the game.
But this woman?
She genuinely doesn’t give a shit that I’m here.
Andthatis a first.
I watch as she takes a sip of her drink, still fully engaged in her group’s conversation.
I wonder what her voice sounds like.
I wonder if her laugh always comes that easily.
I wonder if she’s already taken?
Not interested in men?
Genuinely unaware of who I am?
The last possibility makes something slowly unfurl in my chest.
No way.
That’s impossible.
She has to know.
Right?
I’m used to a very particular dynamic.
Women who seek me out.
Women who wait for me to make the first move.
Women who play the push-pull game but ultimately give in.
This?
This is new.
This is different.
This is intriguing.