Quicksand - Part One

Testing my romance/lust prose.

Some don't believe in love at first sight; some do. It is not our place to dismiss it altogether just because it sounds ridiculous or we haven't experienced it.
I, for one, have been caught between the possibility and the undecided feeling of it for quite some time, after I moved on with my life and began to let people in. I soon learnt that this was the biggest mistake I could have ever made. With the few women I encountered I began to feel like the rope in a Tug Of War game. Pulled this way, pulled that way. I never ever knew what to believe and my body ached with the pressure of it. Surely I am old enough to decipher the difference between love, lust and infatuation. I thought I could, but at the time of feeling these things you let your imagination run wild and then you don't even know if its real or not. But when I first saw her, I saw the illuminating glare of a blinding attraction; And I don't necessarily mean physically by itself. I am not a shallow person. I rarely fall and when I do, it's on.
Perhaps it was because she had such a fine glow about her; her artistry, refinement and experience bleeding out of her desert sunset eyes and catching my own glance? Or perhaps it was because she moved and talked like that of the confident, fluid grace that engulfed me to begin with.
As I took my seat at the front for our first class together, because my desired spot at the back had been taken by a group of loud, guffawing hyenas, I had never felt so exposed and raw all week. My skin tingled with the sense of a million eyes on me despite the fact that everyone was talking to each other. I did not dare to peer around and check for myself. The chair I had taken was slightly uncomfortable, and I could feel the metal beams digging into my buttocks through the thin cushion it allowed. The noise level of the classroom rose and fell like the sun and I began to feel my skin growing hot as if a ten thousand-watt spotlight was aimed on me. 
She introduced herself as Melanie and the head of the course, gesturing to the two men on either side as the other tutors involved. Melanie had her dark hair in a tight ponytail and had perfectly arched eyebrows with a small mole on the end of one. Her full lips were pursed and sure, as sure as she probably felt as she moved across the room, her kitten-heeled shoes clacking on the light green lino floor. Judging by the deteriorating noise of the chatter, I could see I was not the only one in the room whom she had an effect on. When she spoke, with her delicate yet lighthearted voice with a life of its own, it was as if people were drawn to her confident spirit and disregarded gossiping altogether; something I was not familiar with within a classroom.
After a few brief introductions, Melanie announced that we were to converse to the person next to us and introduce ourselves to them, what we were studying and one or two hobbies. In my opinion, it was rather personal as to what we considered a hobby but I didn't protest. When the time came to present our partners' interests, I cleared my throat before I opened my mouth. She interrupted me, apologized and asked politely for my name. She was a beautiful woman, there's no doubt about it. Very attractive. Not the same kind of attraction that most people affiliate with caked-on makeup and barely an ounce of fat on themselves, but the attraction in which I can sense someone's soul by a single examination. She was classy, somewhat motivational and rather friendly. As I spoke, my heart slammed against my chest at her undeserving acknowledgment and the deafening silence of the room. As if she could sense it, she smiled knowingly and her gaze burned into mine; singed holes into my soul and begged me to open up to her. And I eventually did.

That was the biggest mistake I ever made.