ELI
It's strange, but after that night, something about Damir changed in my eyes. Before, he was just… there. A presence I got used to, my dad's best friend who occasionally dropped by the house with a new gift for me. I'd thank him, take the gift, and then go on with my day, never really thinking much of it. But now, it was different. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that every time he came over, there was this pull in my chest, this anticipation, as if something inside me had shifted.
Maybe it was the alcohol. The night I'd gotten drunk and spilled everything that had been festering inside of me, not even realizing the truth behind my words until much later. Or maybe it had always been there, and I was too blind to see it, hiding behind layers of normality, pretending I didn't feel a stir every time Damir looked at me or spoke to me. But after that night, everything felt more real. I couldn't deny it anymore.
Every time I walked into the house, I found myself expecting Damir's presence. The thought that he'd soon show up with something in hand something new and trendy, something that made him feel like he was taking care of me. It wasn't just about the gifts anymore. Sure, they were cool, some of them were ridiculous, like the high-end sneakers, the designer jackets, or the latest phone models but what really caught my attention was how he made me feel. There was a kindness in his eyes, a strange mixture of affection and something else I couldn't quite place.
The more I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered when he smiled at me, the more I found myself staying close to him. I'd linger near him whenever he was in the living room, pretending to be interested in whatever he was doing, just so I could breathe in his scent. Sometimes I'd stand there, waiting for him to notice me, to ask me something, anything. When he did, my heart would race, and I'd do my best to act casual, like I wasn't affected by his attention. But I was. And I hated that I couldn't control it.
Damir would drop by almost every day. The routine felt natural to me, like clockwork. I started sticking around longer when he was there. My dad was busy with his work most of the time, leaving me with Damir more than I ever had before. I remember how he'd sit on the couch with a newspaper or a business magazine, his posture relaxed, but his eyes always on me. He didn't even have to say much; his presence alone was enough to make me feel like the most important person in the room.
At first, I convinced myself it was just my imagination, that it wasn't anything special. I'd hang around him, enjoy the conversations, laugh at his jokes, and then go back to my room when it was time. But those nights, when I wasn't even trying to focus on him, I'd find myself thinking about him. I'd replay our conversations, the way he looked at me, the warmth in his voice when he spoke my name. It was almost like an addiction, this feeling. I wanted to hear him laugh again, to be the reason he smiled.
And then there was the gift thing. Damir never failed to bring something, and I couldn't help but feel giddy when I saw the bags he carried. Sometimes it was a new hoodie, sometimes it was something even more extravagant like a custom-made jacket or the latest sneakers. I pretended to be indifferent, but I loved it. Loved the thought of him thinking of me when he was out, loved that he took the time to find something that would fit me so perfectly. But I also began to realize that it wasn't just about the gift. It was about the way he looked at me when he handed it over, the way his eyes lingered on me for just a second longer than usual.
One night, I stayed up later than usual, hoping to catch him when he came over. I wanted to ask him something,anything that would keep him talking to me, keep him around for just a little longer. But when he came in, the conversation felt different. He was distracted, not really himself, but I didn't mind. I was happy just being near him. It wasn't until he left that I realized just how much I'd been depending on his presence to make my day feel complete.
I hated how much I was starting to expect from him. It wasn't healthy. I knew that. But it was like something inside me couldn't stop myself. Every day, I wanted more. I wanted him to notice me, to see me in a way that felt different than before. I started dressing differently, trying to look better when I knew he was coming over. Little things, like fixing my hair or putting on that jacket he bought me, seemed to matter more now. Every time he walked into the room, I would stand a little taller, catch my breath for just a second before greeting him.
And, it wasn't just the gifts. No, it was something deeper. Something I hadn't figured out yet, but it was there, hidden beneath the surface of every passing conversation, every moment we shared. I couldn't deny it anymore. I liked the attention he gave me. I liked being the person who made him laugh, the person who caught his eye. I started to care more about what he thought of me than anything else.
I found myself staring at him, sometimes when he wasn't looking, just taking him in the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the way he moved with such confidence and ease. The more I stared, the more I realized how much I was drawn to him. How much I wanted to be noticed by him in a way that went beyond just being his best friend's son.
And that's when it hit me. I was falling for him. It wasn't just admiration or gratitude for everything he'd done for me. It was more than that. I couldn't stop the feelings, and I didn't know how to handle it. I just kept going through the motions, hoping that somehow, it would all make sense.
But it didn't.
It just got worse. The more I thought about him, the more I wanted him. And the more I wanted him, the harder it became to pretend that everything was normal.