Golden Eyes Rated: PG By: Ari-chan

Notes: This is just a little something I wrote. Please review it; I may make it into a larger story if I get enough feedback. Thanks.

Oh, and the name Zariana means golden in African.

I watched as she moved across the room, her eyes flickering to meet mine for an instant. Like an automatic camera my mind snapped a picture of her, those eyes! Gods, those eyes. Golden, the light playing with them, the sadness and the pain of they reflected. Like a golden ocean I thought, those eyes are like a golden ocean.

I watched her all night through, trying to never take my eyes off her for fear I would look back and she would be gone. Her brown hair kept falling in her eyes, but she would ignore it and look through the assaulting bangs. She looked at everything, took in all her surroundings. Drinking it all up like some foreign drink, and God, did I want to drink her up?

I wanted her scent to flood my senses, for those eyes to look at me with a mix of lust and love. I wanted to see my reflection in those golden eyes, see myself as she saw me. A girl crossing the gender barrier into an unmistakable state of androgyny. I confused almost any looker, but after all was that not my intent?

I wondered if she knew, if her golden eyes had sought of my secret. That under the baggy shirt, and beneath the baggy, sagging pants it was all girl. Something inside of me wanted her to know, and at the same time wanted to hide it away. It was my secret to keep and I didn't need any golden-eyed goddess to strip away my safety.

As the night wore on she never looked tired, and to my own eyes never faded. She shone was bright as she had the moment she had walked in the door, when her eyes had first settled on me. When I had felt a wave of heat start at my feet and work it's way towards my head.

Euphoria. I wanted this girl and I was going to have her. Whether or not she knew it, she wanted me too.

I had sat myself down on one of the high bar stools, still watching her; chiding myself if I let myself begin to undress her with my eyes. I didn't want her in that way, at least not entirely. Then the moment came.

She stood and walked from her chair in the dark corner, her raspberry red, silk dress falling back down over her hips and thighs. She walked toward me, looking right at me but through me the whole time. Her hand reached into her tiny purse and removed a pen, walking by me she grabbed my hand and stopped briefly to press the pen to my hand and leave her mark. Her phone number.

My heart skipped as I watched her hips swaying, as she walked away. I didn't even know her name. I looked down at my hand and saw it was shaking and there, along side her number in her neat, girlish scrawl was her name: Zariana.

Did you like? As I said: review please. I live on criticism. (The constructive kind anyway.)