It doesn't hurt, but it catches. Somewhere inside. Just below the collarbones. I don't look back right away. I feel. How your gaze slides over me, like fingers. Not roughly - scrutinizing. Carefully. But confidently.
And I like this feeling - to be noticed. Not because of appearance. But deeper. When you feel that you were chosen not because you are beautiful, but because you are interesting.
I pretend not to notice. I continue talking, fixing my hair, taking a sip. But inside, a dance has already begun. Because you are looking. Because you do not look away. And because I do not mind.