Hungry Eyes

Kristen Adams. Kristen Addison Adams. Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Adams. Yep. Sounds fabulous no matter how I say it. I stare at my sparkly ring and giggle. It’s like I’m twelve again, drowning in palpitations.

I’m home from the hospital, back in my own delightfully fluffy bed. I still have a numb foot, arm cast, and sketchy memory, but I’m getting better all the time.

Ethan, who’s here with me now, has not said much today. Dude seems tense. He devours me with those glistening orbs of emerald he has for eyes. This is the first time we’ve been completely alone, undisturbed, and without a chaperon since we officially started dating. My mouth goes completely dry.

In stark irony of my history, Ethan and I have decided to remain pure, that is, to wait until our wedding day to know each other intimately. We believe this is what God wants, so we’re doing it for Him, but we’re also doing it for each other. Sort of like waiting for Christmas to open our presents so when the day comes we have more than empty boxes and crumpled wrapping paper to consume. I’m grateful Ethan is strong in his faith because at this moment I am too weak to resist him.

Ethan jumps up from his seat, “I have to get going, visit my mother,” he says.  He pauses, and then brushes the hair from my face. With his thumb he caresses the three inch scar lining my forehead. I can no longer take his consuming expression so I close my eyes. I feel his lips brush my forehead, and then my mouth.

We kiss softly, delicately at first and then less so. I’m shocked by Ethan’s roaming hands and mouth, but I don’t want him to stop. It all happens so fast there’s no time to think and on the spur of the moment we’re diving into each other like the plane’s going down. Ethan slips my robe off my shoulder; I’m surprised by his abandon, but I only encourage him.

Then my father Rob walks in.

“Ethan!” Rob bellows. My father is already walking down the hall when he says, “Let’s talk.”

“Yes sir,” Ethan calls out. He peels himself off of me, rakes his fingers through his ruffled hair and mutters, “Thank God he walked in.”

Ethan hooks me with his gorgeous eyes, inhaling me with them one last time before he marches after Rob.

The men settle into the living room and I hobble after them, secretly, hiding just inside the hallway so I can listen.

“Ethan,” says Rob. “The first time we met I knew you were different.”

Blasted crows squawk wildly outside. Oh, but they need to shut up so I can hear what Rob is going to say!

Finally, Rob addresses Ethan. “You ARE different from the others; aren’t you son?”

“Yes sir!” says Ethan.

“Good. We understand each other. You mentioned visiting your mother? This would be a good time.”

“Yes sir,” says Ethan, and I hear footsteps and then the door.

I hobble back to bed and wait for Rob to come and give me a lecture. He never does. I thank God Ethan and I had not crossed the line we did not want to cross. I ache for the day we can.

I spend a good part of the afternoon watching THIS video of Hungry Eyes, which has inspired the title for today’s blog entry. I must warn you dear reader, if you decide to join me in watching the video you may get a little tearful watching Swayze knowing this lovely man has already departed from earth. Oh, but the video is magnificent. Film shots of angst, laughter, and passion. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. Cheesy poses. I love it all.

Good gracious I am twelve!


KAC