The trouble with unspoken feelings is that they can twist in your chest and turn into something entirely unrecognizable. What had begun as a simple connection, something warm and effortless, quickly became a series of misfires and misunderstood moments. The truth is, neither Alex nor I were good at communicating what we truly wanted. We were so busy trying to navigate the shifting ground beneath us that we kept tripping over ourselves, missing the cues that were right in front of us.
It started innocently enough. One afternoon, we were sitting in the school courtyard, watching the last rays of sunlight slip behind the horizon. The conversation was light, as it always was, we only talk about homework, laughing at jokes that weren't funny, and just enjoying the company. But then, as she looked at me with that quiet, searching gaze, something shifted in the air.
I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her lips. Just for a moment. I didn't mean to. But when I looked up and met her eyes, I saw something I hadn't expected. A flicker of hesitation. And that hesitation made me question everything.
Had she noticed? Did she know how I felt? Was it in the way I was looking at her? Or had I crossed some invisible line by simply letting my gaze linger too long?
Before I could gather my thoughts, she pulled away slightly, breaking the silence with a forced laugh. "Anyway, I guess I should get going," she said, standing up suddenly.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in her demeanor. "Yeah. Yeah, sure," I said, standing up too, my heart racing. What had just happened? Had I done something wrong?
As she walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had messed things up somehow. Maybe my gaze had given me away. Maybe she didn't feel the same way I did after all. I tried to push the thoughts from my mind, but they clung to me like a shadow, refusing to let go.
It wasn't until the next day, during lunch, that I saw the true extent of the misunderstanding.
I was sitting at our usual table, waiting for Alex, when I noticed her talking to Lucas one of the guys from our class. They were laughing, leaning in toward each other as if they were sharing some inside joke. And something inside me twisted. A sharp pang of jealousy hit me unexpectedly. I tried to shake it off, telling myself it didn't mean anything. After all, Alex and I had never really defined what we were. We were still in that uncertain space, where anything could happen.
But then, Lucas leaned in a little too close, brushing his shoulder against hers. It was innocent. Probably just a gesture, a friendly touch. But it felt like a punch to my gut.
I stood up abruptly, without thinking, and started walking toward the cafeteria line, my mind racing. I wasn't angry at her. I wasn't angry at him. But I was angry at myself for feeling something I wasn't ready to confront.
When Alex caught up to me a few minutes later, I was trying my best to keep my expression neutral, to hide the way my stomach had twisted into knots.
"Hey, wait up!" she called out, catching my arm as I reached for a tray. I turned to face her, forcing a smile. "What's going on with you today?"
"I'm fine," I said quickly, a little too quickly. "Just tired, I guess."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You sure? You seem… off."
I felt the heat rise in my face as she searched my eyes. It was the same look she always gave me when she knew something was bothering me, the one that said she saw right through me, even when I didn't want to be seen. "It's nothing," I repeated, my voice tight.
She didn't let go of my arm, and her expression softened. "Okay. But if something's going on, you can talk to me, you know that, right?"
I nodded, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn't tell her what was really bothering me. I couldn't tell her how I felt, not when it was so complicated. Not when everything seemed so unclear.
The next few days were a mess. I kept replaying everything in my mind, analyzing every word we'd said and every glance we'd shared. I couldn't stop myself from noticing every little thing that Alex did, every word she said, and the way she looked at other people. The way Lucas had leaned in close to her that one afternoon seemed to play on repeat in my mind, over and over.
And then there was the small text she sent me that evening, just after school.
"Are you mad at me?"
It hit me like a punch to the gut. Mad at her? No, I wasn't mad. But I wasn't sure what I was. The words in my head came out all wrong, and before I knew it, I had typed something I didn't mean to say.
"I don't know. Maybe."
I immediately regretted it. My fingers hovered over the screen, wanting to take it back, but the damage was done.
She responded almost immediately.
"What? What did I do?"
I stared at my phone, my heart pounding. I had no idea what to say. I couldn't even understand what I was feeling myself.
But before I could respond, the sound of a new message came in.
"Can we talk tomorrow? I think I know what's going on."
I felt the weight of her words settle in my chest. She knew something was wrong. But did she know what? Did she know what I was feeling? Or had she misunderstood everything the same way I had?
The truth was, I didn't know where we stood anymore. I didn't know what I wanted, what she wanted, or if we were just two people tangled in the confusion of unspoken feelings, missed signals, and misunderstandings.
One thing was certain, though we needed to talk. And I had no idea what I was going to say when we did.