Сумерки

           Thesleevesweremuchtoolong;IshovedthembacksoIcouldfreemyhands.

           "Thatcolorbluelookslovelywithyourskin,"hesaid,watchingme.Iwassurprised;Ilookeddown,flushing,ofcourse.

           Hepushedthebreadbaskettowardme.

           "Really,I’mnotgoingintoshock,"Iprotested.

           "Youshouldbe-anormalpersonwouldbe.Youdon’tevenlookshaken."Heseemedunsettled.Hestaredintomyeyes,andIsawhowlighthiseyeswere,lighterthanI’deverseenthem,goldenbutterscotch.

           "Ifeelverysafewithyou,"Iconfessed,mesmerizedintotellingthetruthagain.

           Thatdispleasedhim;hisalabasterbrowfurrowed.Heshookhishead,frowning.

           "ThisismorecomplicatedthanI’dplanned,"hemurmuredtohimself.

           Ipickedupabreadstickandbegannibblingontheend,measuringhisexpression.Iwonderedwhenitwouldbeokaytostartquestioninghim.

           "Usuallyyou’reinabettermoodwhenyoureyesaresolight,"Icommented,tryingtodistracthimfromwhateverthoughthadlefthimfrowningandsomber.

           Hestaredatme,stunned."What?"

           "You’realwayscrabbierwhenyoureyesareblack-Iexpectitthen,"Iwenton."Ihaveatheoryaboutthat."

           Hiseyesnarrowed."Moretheories?"

           "Mm-hm."Ichewedonasmallbiteofthebread,tryingtolookindifferent.

           "Ihopeyouweremorecreativethistime...orareyoustillstealingfromcomicbooks?"Hisfaintsmilewasmocking;hiseyeswerestilltight.

           "Well,no,Ididn’tgetitfromacomicbook,butIdidn’tcomeupwithitonmyown,either,"Iconfessed.

           "And?"heprompted.