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She could easily feel his gaze burn at her shoulders. Instinctively she discovered her neck to him, pulling her hair to the opposite side and passing them over her right shoulder - it was less than seconds before she felt his gaze wander to her face and then turned to look at the same view as her. Now, well, in her opinion, that was the most shameful thing about being in love for so long with her best friend. After so much time of friendship, there was nothing sensual that you could use. And it's not that they didn't work, he just was not interested. He does not see you in the same way. So while she made the best of her femininity to very quietly collect the dark locks and leave that large amount of fair skin on the attractively feminine curve of her neck, all he had felt was an uneasy urge to look away, or perhaps even worse, had not even paid attention to the act or processed any hint of her attempt to be sexy. Yes, decidedly, there could be nothing worse than being so long in love with her childhood friend. After that, she would only miss the day where she would appear nude in his apartment in a desperate attempt of getting attention and receive an indifferent glance - and possibly preoccupied with her sanity - along with a pair of boxers and some shabby Winged Skull t-shirt that Castiel would probably have left there. And Lys would be considerate enough not to ask why and offer her a ride home, even if he hated driving, and now his new apartment was the furthest from Campus dormitories than any other condo in town. She turned the glass of wine in a sip. Lysander stared at her and his eyes pierced hers - sweeping the sudden red color on her cheeks - sending an obvious message that he did not agree with her newest way to drink wine or perhaps the fact that she wasnt speaking anything. Even so, he went inside the apartment, probably fetch the bottle - because he is a gentleman, and she could take a deep breath for the first moment since he came to the balcony too. She repented bitterly. His perfume entered her lungs, grabbed her nerve endings, and short-circuited what was left of her critical sense; It was a sensual musky fragrance; Masculine and striking, but, being carried away by the night breeze sweeping the porch, was unbelievably soft. She could hear the knock of doors in the kitchen indicating that he was on his way back. A shiver ran down her spine in the cold wind that blew suddenly and then through the approaching footsteps. When the breeze blew again, there was nothing soft about it. It was a pure massacre of all that held her to reason, utter annihilation of the prudence and caution that were the pillars of her relationship with Lysander. Oh God, why? Why did she have to decide to let her friendship with Lysander collapse at this point? While all she had in her head were heated images of that adorable face contorted in divine pleasure and wine, flying to her brain with her accelerated circulation, saying that it was all right for her to leave everything she always had as valuable to fall apart in ruins?