<span style="color: #BF00BF">Her eyes left his smile, darting down to the napkin he was writing on, eyebrows rising as she saw his number. Blinking up at him in confusion, her heart beat wildly in her chest. It was just like one of the few modern books she'd read: The hero gives her his number, telling her to feel free to call whenever; That they'd do something. Her gloved hand took the napkin, a small smile on her face as her eyes took it in, committing it to memory just in case.<br/><br/>As he dished her out another slice of pizza, her mind began to wander, not on the number she'd been given, but on his reaction to her subconscious rejection of his hand. It wasn't as if she didn't want to be touched, to have that contact with someone, anyone. She wanted to know what it was like, to feel that connection with a person, to have their hand reassuringly on her own as her eyes gazed into theirs.<br/><br/>But she'd never have it.<br/><br/>Not without killing them...<br/><br/>Picking at her piece of pizza, she watched his movements out of the corner of her eye, looking at his hands out of curiosity. It started there, wondering what they felt like. They looked strong...Like the hands she'd seen on the covers of her novels. Strong enough to sweep a girl off her feet... And those arms. Though his movements didn't require much strength, the muscles still bounced and moved all the same, catching her attention.<br/><br/>And those eyes...<br/><br/>His smile had her smiling a slightly nervous on in turn, as he wandered off to get a box for the food. The fleeting figure had her heart beating all the faster, watching the grace that he moved in, taking him in, committing to memory the potential hero she'd soon be leaving. That had her smile falling from her lips as she thought about how she didn't want it to end. She didn't want to leave him, to leave the one person she'd met that'd been nice to her because he was a genuinely nice, and not because he needed something.</span><br/><br/>â€œBeautiful...Passing through town..."<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF00BF">She straightened up, eyes snapping back to his form. <span style="font-style: italic">Did...Is he...?</span> Lily couldn't even finish a thought as she tuned into the conversation. That one little snippet had her wondering if it really was her they were talking about. <span style="font-style: italic">Does he really think I'm beautiful?</span></span><br/><br/>"Love does not care about age....â€<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF00BF"><span style="font-style: italic">Love? Is that this feeling?</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">No, it couldn't be. I just met him...And he wouldn't be with me...I'm not lovable.</span><br/><br/>It was so simple a thought to her, a fact that had been drilled into her from the time she was young. How could anyone love something they couldn't touch? She was a mistake, something that should have never been born. As much as she wanted to hope that someone could, that she'd lead a normal life, eventually marry, have that life she'd always read about...It wouldn't be. <br/><br/>It never could.<br/><br/>She heard something else, but in Italian and lamented not understanding it. Every book she'd read with the language came with footnotes to explain them. <span style="font-style: italic">Yet another thing I wish was real,</span> Lily thought wryly before focusing on her pizza, acting unaware of the conversation that had just taken place. It wasn't right to ease drop, or assume it was her they'd been talking about. Why comment on something when she could be way off base?<br/><br/>Picking at her slice, she looked up at him as he drew closer, a small smile taking place once more on her face. "Thank you for the pizza, Tobias," she started, eyes dropping for a moment before returning to the gorgeous blue gaze that captured her so completely. <span style="font-style: italic">I'd pay you back if I could...</span> "So, is it back to work for you?"</span>