Everything I never Said

The Things We Learnt to Feel

The problem with Sam was that he never had to do anything extraordinary to make me feel something.

He didn’t have to buy me gifts, write me long paragraphs, or promise me the kind of love people talked about in movies. Sometimes, all he had to do was look at me for a second longer than necessary, and suddenly, I would spend the rest of the day wondering what that look meant.

It was embarrassing, really.

I had spent most of my life convincing myself that I didn’t need anybody. I had mastered the art of being alone in a room full of people, smiling when I was expected to smile, laughing when everybody else laughed, and answering I’m fine so convincingly that nobody ever bothered to ask a second time.

Then Sam came along.

And somehow, the boy who wasn't even mine became the person I thought about the most.

I hated that.

I hated how easily he occupied my mind. I hated how I could be doing something completely unrelated to him and still remember a random thing he had said three days ago. I hated how my mood sometimes depended on whether he texted me first, even though I would rather swallow a handful of stones than admit that to anyone.

Most of all, I hated that I didn't know what I was to him.

A friend?

A girl he liked talking to?

Someone he was attracted to?

Or just a convenient person to pass the time with until someone more interesting came along?

The worst part was that I couldn't ask.

Asking would mean admitting that I cared about the answer.

And caring about someone had always felt like giving them a weapon and hoping they would never use it against me.

"Isabelle!"

I looked up from my notebook.

My best friend, Tasha, stood in front of my desk with her hands on her hips. Her expression suggested that she had been calling my name for at least five minutes.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"What did I say?"

I glanced at her.

"Something important."

She stared at me before shaking her head.

"You are actually impossible."

"I've been told."

"By who?"

"People."

"You're so annoying."

I smiled and returned my attention to my notebook.

Tasha pulled out the chair beside me and sat down.

"Anyway, Sam is coming over after school."

My pen stopped moving.

It was such a small movement that I hoped she wouldn't notice.

Unfortunately, Tasha noticed everything when it came to other people's business.

She leaned closer.

"Why did you stop writing?"

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I'm tired."

"Your face changed when I mentioned his name."

"My face is the same face I've had since birth."

"Isabelle."

"Tasha."

We stared at each other.

Then she grinned.

"Oh, you're finished."

"Please go and disturb someone else."

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You're...."

"Tasha, I will throw this notebook at you."

She burst out laughing.

I looked away, pretending to be irritated, but my heart was doing something incredibly stupid inside my chest.

Sam was coming over.

It shouldn't have mattered.

It wasn't as if I hadn't seen him before. He had been around Tasha for years, long before I became part of their little circle. He was familiar with her family, knew her siblings, and had a way of appearing wherever she was without needing an invitation.

That was how I had met him.

Through Tasha.

At first, he was just her friend. The funny boy who teased everyone, borrowed people's chargers without returning them, and acted as though the world was one big joke.

Then we started talking.

Then we started talking more.

Then I began looking forward to conversations that I pretended were ordinary.

And now, here I was, behaving like a girl in a movie simply because he was coming over after school.

I was beginning to understand why people made fun of love.

It could make an intelligent person behave like an absolute fool.