Can't Resist His Charm

Like a stalker

Another week rolls on by with me avoiding Damian as much as I could. It’s Sunday comes and Damian is once again in the pool, doing laps. It seems to be his favorite hangout now. Yesterday when I had woken up, he had been swimming and Amanda was on a chair watching him. I remember what he had been up to in the pool room then…in fact, it seemed to be on my mind constantly.

Especially what followed.

“Hey,” I call out to my sister, who is once again drooling over him and she twists her mouth. My parents come out with a tray of drinks then and then I see the other chairs out next to my sister. What the…

“Oh honey, you’re back,” my mother greets me and I nod. I had lunch with Mel’s family today and had just returned. “Damian’s here,” she adds and points the water to where he is splashing around. “We invited him to lunch since you weren’t here. He’s such a delight, such a nice boy.”

Yes mother, but you won’t say that if you know what he’s been doing.

I nod and walk back towards the house. That was the plan exactly. Damian would show up and say he had passed in to study and he did not know that I was with Mel. I was supposed to be back home by the time they had relaxed a bit as my mother always did after a meal.

I am a bit late but I did not expect to see them having a family moment like this and I smile for I am glad my family likes him- my sister a bit too much.

“How is Melanie? How was lunch, honey?’ I hear my mother inquiring and I turn back and give her a thumbs-up sign and she smiles. My father just nods his head and turns back to look at the apparent spectacle in the pool.

“Oh honey, are you joining us?”

My mother wants to know if to make me a drink. My mother had one rule on Sundays, let her know in advance about what meals we wanted. She cooked once alone on that day as she believed in church and family time. Which meant no workers were present today. I shake my head no, even though I know I should join them for Damian’s sake. It would mean less suspicion if I am with him. “No mum, just send him up.”

“Honey your friend is staying for dinner.”

I look at her strangely then at my dad who was still looking at Damian as he made another lap. My mother is cooking again? Never in my life, at least in my memory anyway has my mother cooked dinner on Sunday…we usually went out to eat. What magic spell had he woven on my family?

Inside my room, I see an open drawer and I am mad. Just why can’t he close a damn drawer properly? Why is my towel hanging on the door and not on the towel rack? My shoes- dammit!

I make quick light work of the mess and eye the sleeping bag that he had not bothered to fold but had just shoved beneath the bed. I flare my nostrils and made quick work of that too. Then feeling anger building, I shove it in my closet. Serves him right, I think. He should go and look for it there and replace it when he gets up in the morning.

I look at the package sitting at the bottom. The laptop I had gotten for him. Should I give it to him now? How? I still had not figured out a way to approach him about it. “Here is a laptop because you need one?” No, he would refuse it and might even look at me all injured too…he thinks I see him as a charity case. I don’t- the fact is, I’m trying my utmost best to not think of him... in any type of way.

A charity case? Pft, I would welcome that way of thinking, to what I really have on my p*****t mind.

Lately, I have been thinking of that situation in the pool room- nope not the girl. I grimace and shake my head to get the image of his face out of my mind. His entire naked image. His thumb running across my bottom lip and what followed… I groan out loud and went straight for the shower.

A hot one. I don’t understand why people say a cold shower helps- it does not. A hot shower later has me all relaxed and I am checking my emails when Damian walks in, fully dressed. I see he had showered downstairs in the pool room- not again. My thoughts are filled with those images again.

I close down my laptop and look up at him from my desk when I hear him talking to me. “Natalie is here for you.”

Natalie? Surprised, I walk out and head downstairs and sure enough there she is. “Hey Bry, dad wants to know why he hasn’t seen you lately at church,” she greets me with.

Really? She could have texted that. And I haven’t been to church in months. I stare at the stranger before me- who is this person in my friend’s body? This is not Natalie. She seems to be bitter as of late. Is it because of Damian? It’s pretty obvious that she’s here to see him and obvious that he’s avoiding her.

I stare at her without smiling or even answering and she laughs nervously to hide her embarrassment from my parents who are within hearing distance but not paying attention to us from in the kitchen. Right now, to me, Natalie looks like a crazy person and I wonder again why Damian thought she was too good for him. Nat is my friend but I actually think that Damian deserves better than her. He’s a pretty neat guy.

I think he has taught me that judging a book by its cover is not always good. How different he is from what I expected. How different Nat is from what I thought she was too.

I look at Nat’s necklace- I mean is it really necessary to wear such an expensive piece of jewelry to visit a friend? Or make-up? Nat is a walking piece of spoilt. I compare her to Damian, who sees the money that he needs and does not touch it- money that I gave him freely…without strings attached.

My old friend and my new friend…so different.

Natalie clears her throat looking towards my parents to see if they are witnessing her embarrassing moment and gets straight to the point, “So I hear Damian is here.”

I furrow my forehead and still am silent looking at her, feeling somewhat disgusted with her. How- what exactly is she thinking? That he will want to see her now that she showed up like a stalker to my house? Clearly, he is avoiding her- he made it crystal clear to her when he went upstairs, didn’t he?

My parents are finishing up with loading the dishwasher and are walking towards us and she blurts, “Can I stay for dinner?”