ELI
After that day when Damir came home early and held me like he'd missed me more than air the tension between us started to build slowly, like a storm crawling on its belly. It wasn't sudden, it wasn't loud. But it was there, thick in the air, heavy like a secret that neither of us wanted to admit. And I couldn't help but cling to him like a second skin. Every chance I got, I would touch him. Brush past him. Sit close. Breathe in his scent. Every time he looked at me with those unreadable eyes, I felt like I was burning.
He didn't stop me.
He let me hang off his arm, rest my head on his shoulder while we watched TV together. He let me follow him around the house like a puppy desperate for attention. And sometimes, I caught him staring. Not the fatherly stare or the friendly kind. No. His eyes would drift down, flicker over my mouth, linger on the curve of my neck. His eyes would darken and his jaw would flex and that was all I needed to spiral.
I didn't know what we were. But I didn't care.
We weren't talking about it, but we both felt it. This…thing. It was dangerous. It was heavy. And it was ours.
And then came the moment.
We were in the hallway just outside my bedroom. He was showing me something on his phone a meme someone sent him and we were laughing, too close, way too close. My hand was gripping his arm, and he looked down at me, that familiar flicker in his gaze.
And I thought:
Why not?
My heart pounded so hard I could barely hear myself breathe. I stepped forward, tilted my head. And right before my lips could touch his…..he pulled back.
"Eli," he said, gently but firmly, his voice a whisper, his hands catching my shoulders. "Don't."
The sting was immediate.
I froze. Heat exploded in my cheeks, my stomach dropped, and I didn't even let him finish whatever stupid explanation he wanted to give.
"Don't what?!" I hissed, yanking myself away from his grip. "Don't embarrass myself? Don't be stupid? Or don't assume that you feel anything too?!"
He blinked, stunned.
I pushed him hard, though it did nothing. "You look at me like you want me. You spoil me, you touch me, you call me cute, you hold me like….like I'm yours! So don't you dare act like I made this up in my head!"
"Eli," he said again, quiet but stern. "You don't know what you're doing."
My voice cracked. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
He stepped forward, arm reaching toward me again. "You're young. You're confused. It's okay to feel things. But this….this is not okay."
I pulled back like he'd burned me. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Then why are you always looking at me like that?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Why do you act like I'm the only person that matters when you're around?"
He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Because I care about you, Eli. You're my best friend's son. I practically raised you…."
"No, you didn't!" I shouted. "You took over his place, and you know it! You're the one who's always there, not him. You're the one who checks on me, who buys me things, who talks to me like I matter. So don't feed me that 'best friend's son' crap like that's all I am to you."
He was silent.
And I broke.
Tears stung my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I turned and ran into my room, slamming the door behind me.
I stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched. Shame curled around me like a snake. I'd kissed him. I tried to kiss him.
And he rejected me.
I felt like an idiot. Like a child playing at something he didn't understand.
But the worst part?
I still wanted him.
I curled up in bed, my head buried in the pillows, trying to erase the heat on my face. Trying not to remember the way his hands felt on my shoulders. Trying not to wish he hadn't pulled away.
Minutes passed.
Then I heard the soft knock.
I stayed silent.
"Eli," he said, his voice low. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
More silence.
"I just…." He sighed. "I'm trying to protect you. From me."
I squeezed my eyes shut. That made it worse.
Because that meant he did feel something.
But I didn't open the door. I couldn't. I needed time. I needed space.
And I hated that, even as I lay there feeling pathetic and broken, a part of me still hoped he'd barge in and kiss me anyway.