The sun hung overhead, pouring warm rays over the old Blackwood house.
Lena slumped by her desk, pages spread out, thoughts everywhere - staring at the book without seeing. The pen trembled above paper, yet no line came out. A quiet hum filled the air while time crawled behind her back.
Each time her eyes lifted, he was there in her mind - Damian. Pale. Staring. Just holding still.
Her phone vibrated - mom just wanted an update.
> "Lunch with Damian? Don't be shy, Lena!"
Her gut knotted up. It wasn't about being quiet or holding back. What really scared her? Sitting through one meal near him might make her feelings obvious - her heartbeat giving her away before she could stop it.
She set the phone aside but couldn't focus well.
Later... a quiet tap on her door.
"Lena?"
Her chest jumped.
"Who is it?"
"Damian."
She froze. He showed up quicker than she thought.
I… I'm just - " he began, then froze. His tone? Like velvet on iron - calm, tight, yet risky.
"I need to use the printer," he said simply.
The door creaked ajar - then he appeared. Tall, sharp outfit, fingers tucked into his coat. A gaze so direct it nearly knocked her off balance.
"Uh… yes," she stammered. "Of course. The printer is—"
She moved back, yet her fingertips grazed the table's side. Her heart pounded.
Damian stayed quiet - no words came out. He didn't have to say anything at all. His eyes tracked whatever she did, sticking close like glue. She could sense it pressing on her skin, that look stripping everything away.
When he leaned down a bit to pick up a piece of paper, Lena saw how cautious he acted, each move slow and intentional - as if judging her response.
Her cheeks got hot. Yet she stayed staring. Although it felt wrong.
"Thanks," she said so quietly it was almost a breath.
He stood up, then - just for a moment - she saw it flash in his gaze. Not just looking. A sharp edge, almost like warning. Like he knew too much.
"Are you always this… careful?" he asked quietly.
She frowned. "Careful? What do you mean?"
"You always watch your steps… like you're expecting something."
She took a breath. Her pulse raced under her skin. Was that meant exactly… or something underneath?
"I guess… I just want to fit in," she said softly.
Damian stayed quiet. His gaze alone made her feel a chill run through.
He spun around, heading for the exit. Yet she figured that was the end.
But he paused.
"You're lying."
Her breath hitched.
"I—"
"You think you're hiding how you feel," he said, voice low, almost a whisper, "but you can't."
Her pulse thundered.
"You… you don't know what you're talking about," she said, voice trembling.
He gave a small grin - only one side of his mouth lifting - but that tiny move made her feel suddenly warm inside.
"I do," he murmured. "I see it in the way you look at me… in your dreams. I see it in your thoughts before you even know them."
Lena's legs wobbled. So she held onto the desk corner to keep from falling.
"What… what do you want from me?" she asked, trying to sound strong.
"Nope." He moved nearer, just enough that she sensed the soft heat from him. "Still nothing."
Her heart jumped. But her stomach twisted.
After that, kinda harsh-like, he grabbed the documents and headed out, shutting the door behind - she stayed there shaking, still sensing his presence all over.
---
Lena pretended he wasn't there when they ate. Her eyes stayed down, never meeting his. Still, she couldn't escape how close he felt. Though quiet, Damian filled the room just by being near.
He sat opposite her, completely quiet, silent as stone, staring without blinking. When she lifted her fork, his focus locked onto her fingers. Each time she grinned at her mom, he was there, studying every little shift on her face.
She had to get out fast.
But still… she just didn't manage it.
After eating, she mumbled something about schoolwork and left. Hurrying upstairs, she locked herself in her bedroom. Her back pressed to the wood, she sucked in air fast.
She shivered, though he hadn't even touched her - only stood close, watching, somehow pulling every nerve tight without trying.
She shut her eyes, focusing on something different instead.
It didn't work.
All she saw was how his eyes lit up, yet that feeling in her chest grew stronger whenever he got close, though neither could admit what drew them together.
And in that moment, Lena real
ized:
She didn't only feel pulled toward him.
She was obsessed.
She could tell by how he looked at her that it wasn't just her feeling this way - same thing for him.