the people i loved always had beautiful eyes, or something beautiful about them. gabriel had long, thick lashes that went up all the way to his eyebrows; something i envied desperately. cami's were vivid even as they were glazed in lust and sleep; they gleamed against backlights, creatures of their own that changed with the lighting and her emotions: bright, lustruous jade underneath the harsh lights of gaona, a lulling pastel chartreuse when the sunlight seeped into the pink bathrooms of our school, emerald under the golden flush of the palermo parks and lush, leafy sage when she was flustered. when mati died they looked like rivers in a forest; they leaked just like them.

zoe's were coins to most. sharp, gleaming, bright, impossible to miss like polished silver. the exact color of rain, the exact color of a thunderstorm cloud. cold, lonely, determined, ambitious. but to me they were oceans. it was the only way i could know what was on her mind, the only thing that could possibly give her away despite her training. and like i fool i wandered, endless, drowning. even when she was flexing her fingers around me they still remained focused and precise. she knew exactly was she was doing, taking in the slopes of my pale skin like charting a map and my body would give way to her ministrations like a knife slicing through hot butter. it was when she talked about her father, looked at magda,
fucked for the last time,
when the coins thawed into bodies of water, 

this new one has green eyes. they're not as vivid as cami's; they're softer, homelier, simpler, framed by lovely golden lashes. they crinkle when she laughs, the skin around them smooth and plump, the gleam of them slightly dimmed by the amount of alcohol in her system.

my friend says that she's probably gay and i try to calm down the knots in my stomach when i think about getting punch drunk with her tomorrow.