Maybe He'll Notice Her Now Novels & Stories

She was waiting outside the airport. He saw her before she saw him, which was consistent with how it usually went; he had the spatial awareness of someone whose particular kind of attention had been calibrated over two centuries. She caught the recognition in his expression when she turned, which was the version that didn't manage itself, the one that existed before he had time to decide what to do with it. "You're here," she said. "I'm here," he said.

She had stopped walking behind him for a while now but he did not look back even once to check on her. Did he not notice, or did he notice but did not care?

"You think she will still come over here with Tony?" "Don't know. Only time will tell, but if she does I want to be able to watch. Call me and let me know if anything happens this morning. We'll do lunch, okay?" "You got it sugar. And sugar?" "Yeah?" I said. "I like you a lot better now."

Because if I keep looking at her this way… Eventually, somebody’s going to notice. The problem is— I think that somebody might be me.

His phone was in his pocket. She knew it was in his pocket because she had been watching for it since the moment he walked through the door. She had been watching and she had not seen it on the table and she had not heard it buzz and he had not glanced down at his jacket pocket and he had not reached for it once across the entire first hour of the evening. She noticed that and she filed it and she kept watching. She also noticed that she was noticing it.

“I had hoped that he would notice me, but for years he didn't. But if it was that easy for you to notice, then he might have just been ignoring it.” “You’ve been trying for years?” I asked, frowning in confusion. She nodded. “He never notices. It is like I am completely invisible to him. He doesn't actually see me. He notices danger reports and when someone puts sugar in his coffee, but he has never noticed me.” “I'm sorry.” I said, and she sighed.

At the very least, if the fire blazing in her green eyes was any indication, he could lead a she-wolf to water, but he couldn’t make her drink. Good girl, Mae-day. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “At the moment?” He grinned. “Observing.” Her eyes widened in realization. From the way her shoulders tensed, she was painfully aware of exactly what he’d just observed. That made two of them. “How long have you been there?” She sounded breathless, throaty. All too similar to the noises she’d made. “Long enough.” A smirk crossed his lips as he raked his gaze over her. “Don’t

"You look worried." "I'm fine." "You always say that when you're not." I managed a weak laugh. "Since when do you care?" She crossed her arms. "I don't." Her bluntness almost made me smile. "But I do recognize patterns." "What patterns?" She studied me carefully. "You're watching him." "I always watch him." "No." She shook her head. "You're waiting for him to look back." The observation hit far too close to home. I looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her mind wasn't paying attention to the surroundings. I had to call her back to get her attention, however, the moment she took a turn-around, her phone slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. "You?" she says with surprise. I'm guessing whatever thing, she's hiding, might not be hidden for so long. What is, the man from the picture doing here?...

Her voice came out sharper than she intended. He laughed. Low, soft, and somehow it made her stomach twist. “Not like me? Come on. You notice me. You think about me. Don’t try to deny it.” She looked down at her book, flipping pages she wasn’t even reading. Her hands trembled slightly. Great. “You’re not weak,” he said quietly, moving closer. “But you’re tired. And that makes you… interesting.” She froze. Did he really notice? Did he see her?