She noticed his eyes lingering
a touch too long where her
legs disappeared beneath her skirt,
and how his eyes seemed to be
filled with a hunger
(for what, she could only guess),
and his fingers twitched where
she could see beneath his loosely
crossed arms, itching,
she supposed, to touch her skin,
to press his fingertips into the small of her back.
And when he finally turned his back,
traveling away from her,
she wished he looked at her that way,
rather than the dark-haired girl across the room.
And her eyes were filled to the brim
with longing.