The Summer He Never Spoke About - Becoming Someone She Might Notice - Part 9
“I was becoming someone… she could notice.”
The boy raised an eyebrow.
“You mean… you changed yourself?”
Grandpa smiled faintly.
“Not changed,” he said.
“Just… became more aware.”
“Aware of what?” the boy asked.
“Of how I stood… where I stood… when I arrived…” Grandpa said slowly.
“Earlier, I just went wherever my feet took me.”
“But now…”
He paused.
“…I chose where to stand.”
The boy nodded. “So you planned it.”
Grandpa chuckled. “In the smallest ways, yes.”
“The next few days,” he continued,
“I started going to the well… not just for water.”
The boy smirked. “Obviously.”
“And sometimes… she would be there.”
“Sometimes… she wouldn’t.”
“What did you do when she wasn’t there?” the boy asked.
Grandpa shrugged lightly.
“I waited for a while… then left.”
“That must have been frustrating.”
Grandpa smiled.
“It wasn’t frustration.”
“It was… hope learning patience.”
The boy went quiet again.
“And when she was there?” he asked after a moment.
Grandpa’s eyes softened.
“Those were the days that stayed.”
“Did she start noticing you more?” the boy asked.
Grandpa nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” Grandpa said,
“she stopped pretending I wasn’t there.”
The boy leaned forward again.
“What does that mean?”
“It means… she didn’t avoid looking anymore,” Grandpa explained.
“Not directly… not openly…”
“But sometimes… our eyes would meet.”
“And then?” the boy asked.
Grandpa smiled.
“And then… we would both look away.”
The boy laughed.
“That’s it?!”
“That was everything,” Grandpa replied calmly.
“Didn’t it get boring?” the boy asked.
Grandpa shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because every time it happened,” he said,
“…it felt like the first time.”
The boy stared at him for a second.
He was starting to understand.
“One evening,” Grandpa continued,
“something different happened.”
The boy immediately leaned closer again.
“What?”
“She came alone.”
The boy blinked.
“Alone?”
Grandpa nodded.
“No friends… no one around her.”
“And you?” the boy asked.
“I was already there.”
The silence between them grew again.
“Did you talk to her this time?” the boy asked, almost holding his breath.
Grandpa didn’t answer immediately.
“I thought about it,” he said finally.
“That’s not enough!” the boy said quickly.
Grandpa laughed softly.
“I know.”
“So what stopped you?”
Grandpa looked at him.
“For the first time…”
He paused.
“…I felt she was waiting.”
The boy froze.
“Waiting? For you?”
Grandpa nodded slowly.
“She stood there… longer than usual.”
“She didn’t rush… didn’t leave immediately…”
“And once…”
He stopped.
“Once what?” the boy asked.
“She looked at me…”
Grandpa said quietly.
“…and didn’t look away.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“That had never happened before.”
“So you talked?” the boy asked eagerly.
Grandpa exhaled slowly.
“I took a step forward.”
“And?”
“I opened my mouth to speak…”
The boy leaned in so close now, he almost forgot to breathe.
“And then…” Grandpa said.
He stopped.
The boy frowned.
“Why do you always stop at the best part?”
Grandpa smiled.
Because even now…
some moments still made him pause.
“And then…” he continued softly,
“…she spoke first.”
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