Chapter Five — Something That Isn't Nothing
Something shifted after that Sunday.
From the moment Michael Delanie smiled at her and actually meant it, everything changed. Suwanee Jameson couldn't explain it, but suddenly, she was no longer just the funny girl in choir. She was his funny girl — the one he messaged now, the one he greeted first, the one he waited for after youth fellowship.
It started with little things.
He began replying to her Facebook messages — not just one-word answers, but full sentences. Sometimes he sent voice notes. Once, he even sent a picture of his drumsticks, cracked in the middle, with the caption: "Battle scars from yesterday's praise session 😂"
Suwanee laughed so hard she choked on her cereal. She replied instantly with, "You need to retire those sticks and let God rest."
He reacted with a "😂🔥," and that was the beginning of something.
Something that wasn't nothing.
They started talking every day. About random things — school, music, art, how annoying church aunties could be. He wasn't overly expressive, but he was present. Consistent. Sweet. And fine.
God, he was hot.
That part Suwanee couldn't pretend about. His calm voice, the way he focused while drumming, the softness in his eyes when he was serious — it all made her brain short-circuit.
She started looking forward to seeing him at church like it was a reward. Her chest would flutter at the sound of his voice. And slowly, she stopped pretending.
But he still hadn't said anything direct.
No "I like you." No "Let's define this."
Just long talks. Inside jokes. Late-night chats. Eye contact that lingered.
And of course, her friends noticed.
Titi was the first to speak up. "You've been too quiet. Is it Michael again?"
Ruth nodded. "Because we see the glow. You're in love o. Admit it."
"I'm not in love," Suwanee mumbled, scrolling her phone.
Ada rolled her eyes. "Then why do you smile like a Disney princess every time your phone lights up?"
Suwanee tried to laugh it off, but the truth was harder to ignore now. She was waiting. For him to say it. For him to make a move.
"Do you think maybe he's just slow?" she asked later in private, when it was just her and Titi walking home after school.
"Maybe," Titi shrugged. "Or maybe he's waiting for you to say something first."
"I'm tired of saying things first."
That night, as Suwanee sat at the kitchen table sketching while her mum stirred stew, her phone buzzed.
Michael: "You're really easy to talk to, you know that?"
She smiled, but didn't reply right away.
Her mum turned and looked at her. "Who's been making you blush lately?"
"Mum!" Suwanee groaned, covering her face.
"I'm serious," she teased. "Every time I pass, you're smiling at that screen like they dashed you scholarship."
"It's not even like that," Suwanee muttered, biting her lip.
Her mum sat down, wiping her hands. "Just don't lose focus, ehn? Love is sweet, but it won't pass exam for you."
"I know," Suwanee whispered.
Her dad walked in then and looked at both of them. "What are you two gossiping about?"
"Nothing," Suwanee and her mum said at the same time, laughing.
Later that week, after youth rehearsal, Michael held the gate open for her again. "You're really cool, Suwanee," he said quietly. "I like how real you are."
She smiled, heart racing. "Well… I like how you listen."
The silence between them was heavy, soft, meaningful.
They stood there — too close to be "just friends," too far to be anything more.
Still, it felt like the beginning of something.
Something that wasn't nothing.
Even if she still didn't know what to calll it