Prompt (from March 1st, but hey....)
He had been studiously avoiding me.

I don't know why. I'd never met him before in my life. That I knew of.

At first I caught him staring. You know the feeling of eyes on your back. I wish I knew what vibes it is that let you know when you're caught in someone's gaze. But I digress. I was looking over the morning's program and found myself resisting the urge to turn around and look. In the end I didn't have to. All I had to do was look toward the door as if I was expecting someone, and there were those blue eyes. Not much of them was visible. His eyelids drooped, his black eyebrows were bushy and formed a straight line above eyes and nose. The eyes were fringed in heavy black lashes as well. But you didn't need much of that color blue to be able to notice it. They were like small sapphires displaced on black and white velvet.

Of course he looked away, as did I. We each went our separate ways to different workshops, or so I thought until I felt his stare again. I didn't look at his face this time. Only his hands on the table--very tanned, large bony wrists, squared fingers with well-manicured nails and no calluses that I could see. Veins simmered underneath the skin. He was wearing a long-sleeved deep blue oxford shirt, the cuffs of which poked out too far from underneath a black suit jacket. It was the eyes all over again. Just to be sure I looked up. He looked away and began pulling papers and a notebook out of the soft leather satchel at his feet.

I felt a little better when he wasn't at the subsequent workshop, but he did show up at the final one before lunch. He had three others to choose from but here he was again. I wondered if he was following me then chided myself for being paranoid. Perhaps we just had similar tastes. And if that were so, maybe we'd have common ground for a nice conversation. I made myself a promise to introduce myself after the lecture. What could go wrong in a hotel with almost 200 convention delegates on hand. I replayed all those cool networking stories I'd heard about people getting their big break just by striking up a conversation with the right person at one of these things.

At the close of the lecture I stuffed my things in my totebag and spent a little longer gathering up my courage. I met his eyes and smiled and then started moving toward him. He averted his eyes, gathered up the satchel by the handles and almost tripped over the shoulder strap trying to make it to the exit.

Shy?

Maybe hungry. Maybe he had false teeth that clicked when he ate and didn't want company for lunch. Maybe his ride was waiting outside the hotel. A viciously jealous girlfriend who would instantly assume the worst. Or maybe worse, his mother had to approve.... If nothing else this was good for stretching the imagination.

I was determined now though. I was not going to be dumped without being picked up first. I mean he started the staring thing. And continued it. I even felt it during the last lecture. If it was okay for him to stare, it was absolutely okay for me to introduce myself. Let him try to escape me next time!

There were three lectures after lunch. I hovered outside doors this time and waited for him to sit down so that I could get between him and the door. I'd at least be the one to stare this time if nothing else. He'd sneak a peek as he wrote notes, and then the buzzard left the lecture early. I don't know if he hid in the men's room or what, but he was studiously avoiding me. I knew it. I just wanted to know why.

But I never found out. I never saw him again. I watched for the rest of the weekend. It made me laugh really, and almost cry too. Was I really so frightening that someone would skip out on $50 worth of conference just to avoid being introduced.

Maybe I looked like his long-dead sister, or aunt, or cousin. Maybe he thought he knew me from a past life (I didn't believe in such things but that didn't mean that he didn't.) Or maybe there was more there than he was ready to cope with because he'd recently divorced his wife of fifteen years and abandoned his children (in which case I didn't care to know him at all.) Maybe he was an old classmate of mine who had undergone extensive reconstructive surgery after a horrible plane crash and he was secretly in love with me all along but too timid to take a chance.

Or maybe he was there to help me write my first mystery novel. Hmmm...... Now there was a thought.