She looked at him across from the dinner table. The fake candle flame flickered as she studied the wrinkles in is forehead. How his hair fell. The hint of green in his eyes.
She felt the future. She didn’t know though. She didn’t know there wouldn’t be a future. He wouldn’t allow it.
He gazed at her. He’s been watching the expression in her face change from something new, to something that could be serious. He knew the look all too well. She was falling in love.
Him, no. Never again.
Fall in love? No, not his style. He knew what happened when he felt love towards him blossoming inside of another soul. It was time to make his escape.
Why was he like this? He knew. He knew all too well, in fact. Was is something about her? Some odd characteristic that makes him want to pull away?
No. To be fair, she’s fireworks on the fourth. She’s magic.
But he’s broken. He knew it. She didn’t. And what does this broken man do? He runs at the first hint that someone could love him. He doesn’t accept love. Hell, he’s been hurt before. Never again though. He won’t take that challenge on again.
So there they were. The future was written. Her’s was full of hope. The house, the family, the safety of growing old with someone you love. He didn’t have it in him to burst that bubble tonight. Not when there’s still half a bottle of red wine left in the bottle.
“Waiter,” he asked as he turned in the chair and motioned towards the closest restaurant worker he could find.
“How may I help you, sir?”
“I’ll have a tequila on the rocks.”
“Blanco or repisado?”
“Blanco.”
The waiter turned and headed to fulfill the request. The start of the exit had begun.
A lull in conversation. The drink was placed in front of him.
She reached across and placed her hand in his. She smiled. He took a sip.
Tonight would be the final night they spent together. He felt the same guilt that he always did.
He took another drink.