Lovers and Liars

Chapter 3: The Lover

The days that followed my encounter with Daniel felt surreal. I found it impossible to stop thinking about him—his voice had a mesmerising quality that made everything else fade away, and his gaze seemed to penetrate my very soul, as if he was searching for something deeper within me. It was challenging to concentrate on anything; even mundane activities like studying, eating, or chatting with friends felt altered, as my mind kept replaying our library conversation.

I reminded myself that it was foolish to overanalyze the situation; after all, we had only exchanged a few words. Yet, there was something about the way he regarded me, as if I held significance beyond being just another person in the crowd, and that feeling was utterly captivating.

A few days later, while I was in the student lounge pretending to study but really lost in my thoughts, I heard his voice. It was unmistakable—smooth and self-assured, cutting through the ambient noise. I glanced up to see him just a few feet away, chatting with a friend.

My heart raced, and I quickly averted my gaze to my book, hoping he hadn’t caught me watching. But then, almost as if he sensed my attention, he turned and locked eyes with me. That smile, the one that sent my heart into a frenzy, spread across his face as he approached.

“Emy,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. “I was hoping to see you.”

“Hey, Daniel,” I managed to say, trying to keep my voice calm despite my pounding heart.

“How’s everything?”

“Pretty good,” he replied, casually leaning against the table.

“I’m having a small gathering at my place this weekend, just a few friends. I’d love for you to come.”

A gathering? My mind raced with uncertainty. I wasn’t familiar with his friends and worried about fitting in. But the way he looked at me—filled with easy confidence and a hint of sincere interest—made it impossible for me to decline.

“That sounds great,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too eager.

“What time should I come?”

“Around eight,” he replied with a grin.

“But feel free to show up whenever.

“I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.” His words sent a shiver down my spine.

“Taken care of.” They hung in the air between us, laden with promise.

“Okay,” I said, attempting to maintain my composure, though I could feel my cheeks flush.

“I’ll be there.”

“Awesome,” he said, his smile brightening.

“I can’t wait.” He lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then his friend called from across the room, and he waved goodbye before leaving.

I watched him go, my heart still racing, trying to comprehend what had just transpired.

A gathering at Daniel’s house. It felt surreal, like a scene from a cheesy romantic film where the girl finally catches the attention of the guy she’s been secretly admiring.

But this was all real, and I felt an exhilarating mix of excitement and anxiety. That evening, as I walked back to my apartment, I replayed our conversation in my head, dissecting every word and smile.

What did he mean by “taken care of”? Was it just a friendly comment, or was there more to it? Later that night, standing before the mirror and trying on different outfits, I daydreamed about what the party would be like.

Would we have more chances to talk? Would he be able to find me among the crowd, or would I just fade into the background? I wanted to make a memorable impression, but not in a way that appeared too obvious or desperate.

I ultimately chose a simple yet flattering dress that made me feel confident without being overdone. As I hung it up, ready for the weekend, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this party could be pivotal—an opportunity for something significant to unfold.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this the beginning of something genuine, or was I just inviting another disappointment?

Only time would reveal the answer. For now, I could only hope that, for once, the universe was aligning in my favour.