Help Me Fly

Our eyes met for the first time while I was working.

My father owns a diner, a 1950s style joint with blue and white checkered floor tiles, vintage Coca Cola posters, and a jukebox. I've been working there ever since I learned how to work a stove.

I was cleaning tables when you and a friend walked in.

Any normal person would have continued working. Any sane person would have kept their eyes down.

But my sanity left the second I heard the door chime with your entrance.

A brief, automatic glance turned into a prolonged stare when I recognized you. You must have felt my gaze, for after just a moment, you turned your head and looked right at me.

And just like that, I was caught. A measly fly ensnared in a web.

Now I'd been taught my manners. I know when to say please and thank you, know when to hold a door open for somebody, or when to offer an elderly person my seat on the bus. But I couldn’t help it as my eyes swept shamelessly over you.

I've never seen eyes like yours before. Practically black, as dark as the shadows you preferred. An intense fire lit them that burned straight into my soul. I suddenly knew why people feared you - one glance and it's as if you know every dark secret, every skeleton in the closet.

My arms tightened around the plastic bin containing dirty dishes, possibly trying in vain to hide myself from those piercing pupils, all the while yearning for them to see me.

Your friend, long-haired and lanky, ordered while you leaned against the counter, eyes still on mine. You stared, and I stared back. There was nothing else I could do.

We didn't say anything to each other, of course, but our eyes made a silent promise.

We'll meet again.

Once you received your food in a white paper bag, you wa...

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...n my face. I don’t dare cough as I breathe in your secondhand smoke. "You want something from me." It's not an inquiry, but a mere statement. A fact.

"Take me away from this place," I plead. I hate it here, I hate it. I need danger. I need adventure. I need you.

Your grin is excited. Dangerous. Tempting. "I can make you fly, girly," you gush. "I can give you wings, but you have to be willing to leave your perfect little life behind."

My life ended the moment you walked into my family's diner a few weeks ago. You're my life now. I raise my head, staring unflinchingly into those dark, cold eyes. "Take me away," I repeat, more firmly.

"Let's soar." You outstretch your hand, giving me the option to turn around before I ruined my life forever. I know your intentions are anything but good. Your heart is just as black as your lungs.

Yet I take your hand anyway.