The next day, my eyes looked puffy and sore, like each restless hour left a mark right on my skin. All night long, I fought inside my head - talking myself up, then down, making excuses, acting it out. I mumbled over and again that yesterday's events were made-up stuff, perhaps bits from an old love film sneaking into my thoughts, dropping emotions that never truly belonged there.
"He isn't important," I told myself over and over.
"You don't like him. Not like that."
But then the same stubborn question hit me again, sharp and cold:
Why him?
Out of everyone—why him?
I decided it was all overthinking and made a plan for the day: I would ignore him. Completely. Ignore everything I felt. Ignore everything he made me feel.
It seemed easy when I thought about it.
Fate stepped in - changed the game.
When I got to school, it seemed like I'd survived a fight no one noticed. At the same time, he might've been fixing his hair or laughing with mates over morning food, having no idea what mess he stirred up in my head. That total lack of awareness? It sparked something deep - anger, shame, hard to say which.
Even so, I walked into class ahead of time, figuring maybe today would seem okay if I just played it cool. I joked around with the crew, cracked a smile when they did - suddenly, stuff felt like before. One of those brief seconds where you think, Hey, this works. You're fine. Yesterday was just a weird moment.
Then the door opened.
He walked in.
He didn't do anything grand—didn't smile dramatically or look for anyone. He simply stepped inside the room like he did every morning.
Yet a detail stuck - perhaps how the sun touched his face, perhaps my shaky inhale - it hit me just as hard.
My gaze drifted toward him - no time to react.
They felt foreign, as if owned by another person.
I told myself to look away.
I didn't.
And when frustration burned in my chest, my expression changed before I could hide it.
He noticed. He paused, just slightly, and confusion flickered across his face. Then he approached a little and asked, quiet and cautious,
"Why… why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something? Are you upset with me?"
I had to speak up since hanging out with him dragged every part of my life down. Not just mixed feelings - this ran further, almost like I was forgetting myself entirely, and that freaked me out way more than actual threats ever did.
Yet the phrases didn't fade. Instead, they lingered deep within.
So I grabbed a quick breath, glanced away, slumped into my chair like nothing happened.
Of course he sensed something. Each person in our group had - life side by side, same games at recess, same yearly events, endless silly fights. Secrets didn't last much time. Even the new students eventually realized how closely connected our class was.
He'd glance my way now and then, like he was wondering what had gone off track.
He realized I didn't just start turning red near guys or gazing at folks outta nowhere.
He brushed off love right away - just didn't match who he believed I was.
Instead, he wondered if someone had upset me.
If something bad had happened.
If I was angry at a friend.
If I was sick.
If I was hiding something.
I noticed his anxious look several times - each glance made my chest tighten just a bit more.
He drifted into his head after some time, then quit searching. Perhaps he'd talk to me afterward. Or maybe keeping up that guessing game wore him out. Could've been unsure what to think.
Then came more days just like it - me faking normal, him catching on, each of us floating through a weird quiet space we couldn't name.
Finally, I just quit pretending otherwise.
I had fallen for him.
Deeply.
Quietly.
Stupidly.
I had no idea why.
Of everyone I know - why was it him?
Still, that didn't come close to being the lowest point.
Two years passed since my closest pal admitted she had feelings for him. At that time, I shot her down - almost yelled, really - saying he wasn't even close to deserving it. He meant nothing to me back then. Yet here I am today... slowly crushing on the exact same person.
The shame felt like a wound inside the chest.
If she discovered it - or someone else did - gossip would race through town fast. She would be hurt. Our friendship might crack. Everything could go wrong.
So I kept my feelings locked deep inside, promising myself nobody would ever know.
But just when I convinced myself I could hide it forever…