Notes on an Unsaid Love

Chapter 5

I stopped walking as we reached my house. My heart was still racing, like it was trying to escape my chest.

Wake up, Phoebe. Wake up to your own feelings!

He gave me that smile again. That ridiculous, sweet, utterly distracting smile. God, it was maddening.

“Go to bed early,” I said, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms.

“You know I don’t sleep early,” he replied, cocky.

“I know… but the internet says people who stay up late get cranky easily.” He pouted, those puppy eyes staring right at me. “I don’t want you to be mad at me all the time.” He even pressed a hand to his chest, and I swear, it made me want to roll my eyes and groan at the same time. Certified crazy, this boy.

“Just go home already!” I snapped.

Right then, his phone rang. I already knew—grandma was calling him.

“There it is. You’re doomed with your grandma,” I muttered.

“Bye, Phoebe! See you tomorrow, okay?”

I just nodded.

He got into his car and sped off, leaving me frozen in place. I watched until he disappeared from view. I wanted to see him again, so badly—but I needed to control myself.

The street was silent, yet my heart was throwing its own private concert.

“Control yourself, Phoebe,” I whispered, staring down the road he had just taken.

But no matter how many times I scolded myself, I couldn’t stop the small, involuntary smile creeping onto my lips.

Annoying.

I stepped inside and went straight to my room. Only then did I notice I was still holding a piece of paper—the lyrics.

I hadn’t even realized I had brought them with me.

Carefully, I unfolded it. His handwriting: messy, but full of effort. Small doodles in the margins, clearly done while he was thinking.

I shook my head. “Crazy,” I muttered—but there was something tender in my tone now.

As I read the lines again, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had looked at me while singing earlier. Not like a performer on stage, but like he was searching for someone… and he had found me.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re hopeless, Phoebe.”

My phone buzzed.

I paused.

Lennox: “I arrived. Are you still mad?”

I closed my eyes for a moment before replying.

Phoebe: “No. Go to sleep.”

Quick reply.

Lennox: “You too. Don’t stay up late. I don’t want you cranky tomorrow. And… thanks for watching.”

I froze.

He knew.

I hadn’t stayed for the end of his performance. But he knew I was there.

Phoebe: “It’s nothing.”

It took a long time for him to reply.

Lennox: “Just knowing you’re there… it’s enough.”

I went completely still. I tossed my phone onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, hand on my chest, thinking about him. He never really leaves my thoughts.

“Heart… calm down,” I whispered.

I was going insane.

⸻

“Hey! Phoebe! I can tell already,” Mika said, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, sipping my red velvet milk tea.

“Come on. I know you have a crush on Lennox.”

I choked on my drink, and she quickly handed me water. “Whoa! Sorry! Did I surprise you? Peace!” She flashed a peace sign.

“You are crazy! What crush? We’re just friends, okay?!” I avoided her gaze, my cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, yeah… sure. Keep denying it. That only makes it worse.” She nodded at me as if in agreement, finishing her burger.

“R-really?” I muttered, dropping my shoulders.

“Yes,” she said, leaning in. “Every time his name comes up, your face changes.”

“No way!”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yesterday, while he was singing, you didn’t even blink.”

I blinked now.

“You were watching me?!” I protested.

“Teh, more obvious than the spotlight.”

I groaned and buried my face in the table. “So embarrassing.”

“Why embarrassed? He’s your crush.”

“Not just a crush,” I whispered—louder than I realized.

Mika went quiet. Slowly, she looked at me. “Ah.”

“Ah, what?! I didn’t say anything!”

“Phoebe…” she smiled, soft and concerned this time. “Do you love him?”

Something fluttered in my chest.

I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t know when it started. I didn’t know how it deepened. I just noticed one day… when he was happy, I was happy. When someone else approached him, I got irritated. When he ignored me, the day felt empty.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “It… sometimes hurts.”

Mika’s expression turned serious. “Does it hurt because of him?”

“No,” I replied quickly. “He’s not doing anything.”

“Then why does it hurt?”

I pressed my hand to my chest.

“Because… I don’t feel like I’m his type. There are so many others prettier, smarter, softer than me.” I bit my lip. “And… he said he’s not into love right now.”

“But did he say he didn’t like you?” Mika asked sharply.

I froze.

He hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t said he did.

I exhaled. “I don’t want to assume.”

“And I don’t want you suffering alone,” she said. “If you love him, it’s not a crime.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

“Phoebe,” she said gently, “even if you try to hide it, it shows. That’s why you get flustered, irritated, hurt—because you have feelings.”

I stayed quiet.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I couldn’t fool myself anymore.

“Can they really tell?” I asked softly.

Her smile was teasing but gentle. “We can.”

“And him?”

She thought for a moment. “Not sure. But if he doesn’t notice… maybe he’s not cold. Maybe he’s just afraid, too.”

______

These past few days, I haven’t been able to get what I feel for Lennox out of my head.

And at the same time, I’m terrified of what might happen if I do.

I know he only sees me as a friend. Just a friend. Nothing more. He’s sweet to me, yes—but he’s sweet to his other girl best friends too.

You heard that right.

He’s like this with them too.

⸻

“Hey, Phoebe!”

I jumped. “What the hell?!”

Lennox clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back as if I’d shot him. “Wow. I call your name and you curse me? I’m wounded.”

“You deserved it,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

He took a cautious step away. “Why are you so aggressive today? Is it that time of the month? Did your mom crave frogs while she was pregnant with you or something?”

I smacked his arm.

“Ow! Violence! This is a***e!”

“Shut up, Lennox. I’m not pregnant.”

He burst out laughing.

I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against my lower abdomen. My cramps were killing me. First day. Of course.

“Yes, I’m on my period,” I snapped. “So can you not ruin my mood for once?”

He pouted.

Then he stopped.

He didn’t grin.

He didn’t tease.

“Ah… sorry,” he said quietly.

That caught me off guard.

I’m not used to him stopping so quickly.

“I didn’t know,” he added. “Does it hurt?”

I rolled my eyes, but there wasn’t as much bite in it anymore. “Obviously.”

He immediately started digging through his backpack.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Wait.”

A few seconds later, he pulled out a small plastic-wrapped chocolate bar. “My grandma said chocolate helps.”

I blinked.

“You just carry chocolate around?”

He shook his head. “No. I bought it earlier. Just in case.”

Just in case.

He held it out to me.

I didn’t take it right away.

Because the truth is—

it’s not my cramps that hurt the most.

It’s the fact that he’s probably like this with everyone else too.

Just as attentive.

Just as caring.

Just as sweet.

“Lennox,” I called softly.

“Hmm?”

“Are you like this with everyone?”

“With everyone how?”

“Sweet. Concerned. Always prepared. Always there.”

He paused.

“Not really,” he said.

“But you have other girl best friends,” I said bluntly.

He frowned. “So?”

“So?” I let out a small laugh, though it stung. “Nothing. Forget it.”

He stared at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Phoebe,” he said seriously, “you’re different.”

My world stopped for two seconds.

“Different how?” I tried to sound casual.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m just more… persistent with you.”

That only confused me more.

“You never complained before,” he added.

Because before, I could handle it.

Now, I can’t.

“Maybe I’m just starting to notice,” I muttered.

“Notice what?”

That I’m getting hurt.

That I’m getting jealous.

That being just friends isn’t enough anymore.

But I didn’t say it.

Instead, I took the chocolate.

“Thanks.”

He smiled.

That familiar smile.

The one that makes me weak.

“Tell me if it still hurts,” he said. “I’ll walk you to the clinic.”

“Overdramatic.”

“Concerned.”

And there it was again—my heart betraying me.

“Lennox.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be too nice.”

He laughed. “What?”

“You’re dangerous,” I whispered.

He just laughed harder.

But I wasn’t joking.

⸻

“I know I’m incredibly handsome, Phoebe,” he continued, smirking. “But don’t stare at me like that. I might melt. Imagine how many people would cry if I disappeared.”

I grimaced and looked away. “Wow. The ego.”

He followed me as I walked ahead. Of course he did. We had the same class next period.

“Oh yeah,” I said sarcastically, flashing him a fake smile. “Must be hard being chased by so many people. I’m so happy for you.”

He squinted at me. “Why do you sound bitter? Don’t you want a handsome best friend?”

He pouted dramatically.

I seriously considered strangling him.

“Careful,” he added. “What if you replace me with someone uglier?”

I pinched his arm hard.

“Ow! Why are you like this?!”

“One more word and I’ll peel your skin off,” I warned.

“Hurt physically and emotionally,” he complained, rubbing his arm. “You’re cruel.”

“Deserved.”

“What did I even do?”

I stopped walking.

He stopped too.

The hallway buzzed with noise, lockers slamming and students laughing—but in that second, it felt strangely quiet between us.

“Nothing,” I said.

“It’s always nothing,” he muttered.

“Do you want a list?”

“If there is one, yes.”

I fell silent.

How do I tell him his crime is being too kind?

Too warm.

Too familiar.

Too much mine—

without actually being mine.

“Phoebe,” he said carefully, “are you mad because people keep saying I’m handsome?”

“As if,” I scoffed.

“Then why do you get irritated when girls come up to me?”

My heart stumbled.

“You’re assuming things again.”

He stepped closer—not too close. Just enough for me to feel his presence.

“Are you jealous?” he asked directly.

My chest exploded.

“What?! Are you insane? Why would I be jealous?”

He shrugged, but he was smiling. “Feels like it.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I could be.”

I shoved him lightly. “Shut up!”

He laughed.

Then, suddenly, he didn’t.

“Phoebe.”

“What now?”

“If someone makes you happier, that’s fine with me.”

I froze.

“What?”

“If there’s another guy,” he continued, voice softer now. “Someone better. Less annoying.”

The air felt heavier.

“What are you talking about?”

He smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just don’t want you thinking you have to stick with me.”

And that’s when I realized—

I’m not afraid of his answer.

I’m afraid he’ll never ask the question.

“Lennox,” I called before he could walk ahead.

He turned.

“For the record,” I said, forcing calm into my voice, “I’m not replacing you.”

His eyes searched mine. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Because I never had you in the first place.”

Silence.

For the first time all day, he didn’t joke.

He didn’t smirk.

He just looked at me.

Really looked at me.

Then—

“Phoebe,” he said quietly, stepping closer again. “Do you want to?”

My breath caught.

The hallway noise rushed back into my ears. Lockers. Footsteps. Laughter.

But all I could hear was my heartbeat.

“Want to what?” I asked, even though I already knew.

He held my gaze.

“Have me.”