It's like she threw a brick through a plate-glass picture window, the way something in Danny's head shatters, loud, brilliantly flashing. Spotlights chasing this feeling as it scrabbles up from the back of his neck into his skull, down across his chest, burrowing in at just about the same spot where she is looking at Steve.
No. Not looking. Practially leering. Like she's got x-ray vision, or something, and can see right through his shirt. All but licking her lip, dark eyes all lit up and warm, heavy-lidded.
Somewhere, vaguely, he realizes he's crushed that last dollar bill as his fingers clenched. It's hard to tell, when he's suddenly seeing everything through a haze of splintered red, confused jealousy ice-picking under his sternum. "Well, that's thoughtful," he says, sliding the bill back into his wallet, taking far more care than necessary, as his head swirls with the sudden pounding uncertainty of his reaction.
Steve is attractive. He knows it. He knows everyone who sees the guy knows it. He has had plenty of opportunity to study his body and features without any distance between them at all, over the last few weeks, and it has been a hugely pleasant study.
So of course Steve is going to get hit on by the girl tending bar. Right. It's only natural. She can look. She's got a right to look. Everyone has a right to look. Danny cannot control where people decide to put their eyes, and so, this is a side effect, of Steve being attractive and people aside from Danny noticing that.
Right?
He struggles with the kneejerk reaction to upend his bottle over the bar, just to get her to look somewhere else, shifts a little towards Steve, to try and get in the line of sight. "Then I guess we'll let you know when we're done with these."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-22 05:44 am (UTC)No. Not looking. Practially leering. Like she's got x-ray vision, or something, and can see right through his shirt. All but licking her lip, dark eyes all lit up and warm, heavy-lidded.
Somewhere, vaguely, he realizes he's crushed that last dollar bill as his fingers clenched. It's hard to tell, when he's suddenly seeing everything through a haze of splintered red, confused jealousy ice-picking under his sternum. "Well, that's thoughtful," he says, sliding the bill back into his wallet, taking far more care than necessary, as his head swirls with the sudden pounding uncertainty of his reaction.
Steve is attractive. He knows it. He knows everyone who sees the guy knows it. He has had plenty of opportunity to study his body and features without any distance between them at all, over the last few weeks, and it has been a hugely pleasant study.
So of course Steve is going to get hit on by the girl tending bar. Right. It's only natural. She can look. She's got a right to look. Everyone has a right to look. Danny cannot control where people decide to put their eyes, and so, this is a side effect, of Steve being attractive and people aside from Danny noticing that.
Right?
He struggles with the kneejerk reaction to upend his bottle over the bar, just to get her to look somewhere else, shifts a little towards Steve, to try and get in the line of sight. "Then I guess we'll let you know when we're done with these."
Which they aren't. So she can go, now. Anytime.