Chapter 2
2271 Words
“Hey, Phoebe!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when my sister Kira suddenly called out, staring at me with wide, suspicious eyes.
“Yes?” I replied, trying to sound normal.
“I swear, I’m telling Dad about this,” she said, crossing her arms. “Didn’t he say you’re not allowed to have a boyfriend yet?”
I grimaced.
“I don’t have a boyfriend! And I haven’t forgotten what Dad said. I love myself—and my future,” I answered defensively.
But the look on her face said she didn’t believe a word I was saying.
“Oh, really?” she teased. “Then who was that guy who dropped you off earlier? He was handsome.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kira!” I snapped, though I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “He’s just a friend.”
She nodded, but that knowing smile never left her face.
“A friend… or more than a friend?”
I rolled my eyes. “Get out of my room. I have school early tomorrow.”
She laughed and finally left. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
This couldn’t happen.
We were just friends.
And even if we weren’t—
we weren’t allowed.
⸻
The next day, the covered court was unusually crowded. People were squealing, shouting, and pushing their way toward the stage.
I frowned when Mika Dela Cruz—my best friend since Grade 12—rushed over to me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, laughing.
“There’s a singing competition,” she said excitedly. “And guess who’s performing next? Your classmate—Lennox Reyes.”
My eyes widened.
“Huh?” I whispered. “A singing competition?”
“Yes!” She dragged me closer to the crowd. “It’s school-wide. Apparently, Lennox is kind of a big deal.”
Suddenly, the air felt warmer.
Why now?
“Why do you look pale?” Mika asked, scanning me. “You okay?”
“I—I’m fine,” I answered quickly. “Probably just the heat.”
She didn’t say anything, but I knew she was suspicious.
The noise slowly died down when someone stepped onto the stage. A familiar figure emerged from behind the curtains—wearing a simple white polo, microphone in hand, head slightly bowed as if gathering courage.
Lennox.
Something twisted painfully in my chest when he looked up.
Our eyes met.
He smiled—softly, gently—like it was meant only for me.
Don’t look at me like that.
“Hey,” Mika whispered with a grin. “He’s looking at you. You said he’s just your friend, right?”
“Shh,” I hissed, even though my heartbeat felt loud enough for everyone to hear.
The music started.
From the very first note, the entire covered court fell silent. His voice was clear, emotional, and dangerously sincere. Every lyric felt personal—like it was meant to reach only one person.
Me.
I didn’t realize I was clutching the hem of my skirt until my fingers started to ache.
Don’t get attached, Phoebe.
You’re just friends.
But how could I ignore it—
when every word he sang felt like it was calling my name?
When he finished, the crowd erupted in cheers. Some people stood, others screamed his name.
Win or lose, one thing was clear to me.
He wasn’t just talented.
He was dangerous—to my heart.
“Wow,” Mika said, turning to me. “If he were my friend, I would’ve confessed already.”
I smiled, but there was a sharp ache in my chest.
If only you knew.
As the applause continued, I saw Lennox step off the stage. He glanced toward the crowd—toward me.
The world seemed to slow.
“Phoebe,” Mika said, waving a hand in front of my face. “The competition’s over. Why are you zoning out?”
“Oh—nothing,” I muttered. What is wrong with me? Am I losing my mind?
“Our class is starting. Come on.”
I nodded, barely speaking. I didn’t understand what was happening to me anymore.
⸻
“Phoebe!”
I hadn’t even stepped inside the classroom when Lennox waved enthusiastically from across the room. He jogged over, smiling like an excited kid.
“What?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You look like you’re about to ask for candy.”
He pouted dramatically.
He casually slung an arm around my shoulders as I opened the door. Some classmates stared, others didn’t care.
“So?” he asked. “Was my performance okay? Did I pass your standards?”
I looked at him. Our faces were too close.
He winked.
I shoved him away.
“I’ll admit it,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up. “Your voice is amazing.”
His grin widened, bright and unguarded.
“Really?” he asked. “So you’re proud of me?”
“Wow, confident much?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Don’t assume.”
“Wow,” he clutched his chest dramatically. “You’re denying me my only source of validation in life.”
I laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”
We sat in our usual seats—side by side. I tried to focus on the front, but I was painfully aware of him next to me.
“Phoebe,” he whispered.
“What now?”
“Earlier,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I saw you in the crowd.”
My eyes widened. “W-what?”
“I was nervous,” he admitted. “But when I saw you… I felt calmer.”
Something tugged at my heart.
“You’re so dramatic,” I muttered, looking away. “Singer—full of lines.”
He didn’t joke back.
The teacher entered, and class began. I tried to concentrate, but every note I wrote felt wrong.
My mind kept repeating one name.
Lennox.
Lennox.
Lennox.
In the middle of the lecture, he slid a small piece of paper toward me.
Thank you. Your opinion matters to me.
I looked at him.
He smiled—not playful, not loud—but quiet and sincere.
That’s when I understood why I was so confused.
Not just because he could sing.
Not just because he was kind.
But because with every moment we spent together,
he was slowly unraveling the world I had worked so hard to keep in order.
And no matter how many times I reminded myself—
it’s f*******n,
we’re just friends,
this will hurt in the end—
there was one question I could no longer run from:
What if I fall completely…
and I can’t find my way back out?
I scratched the back of my neck as I stood behind the school, wondering for the hundredth time why I had agreed to follow him here.
Classes were already over. Everyone else was heading home—but instead of leaving, Lennox had called me over and dragged me to this forgotten corner of the campus.
He was sitting on an old wooden chair, the kind that looked abandoned. Our classrooms had switched to metal chairs years ago, which meant this one had probably been dumped here and forgotten.
“What are we even doing here, Lennox?” I asked, glancing around.
This was my first time back here. I didn’t know what got into him—he’d been oddly persistent earlier.
“Wow, Phoebe,” he said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”
I rolled my eyes.
He pulled out a full sheet of paper and held it up proudly. I frowned as I took it.
“Look,” he said. “The acquaintance party is coming up, right? I wrote lyrics for the song I’m going to sing.”
I scanned the page.
“…Wow,” I said honestly. “This is really well-written.” Then I looked at him suspiciously. “Do you like someone? You seem very inspired.”
He chuckled. “Who knows.”
I sat beside him, still frowning—but smiling despite myself.
“What do you mean, ‘who knows’?” I said. “Sing it. Right now.”
He smiled then—one of those smiles that felt like it was hiding something.
“Are you sure?” he asked as he reached for the guitar leaning nearby. “I might embarrass myself.”
“Oh, please,” I teased. “You practically made half the school swoon earlier.”
He adjusted the guitar on his lap and took a slow, steady breath—like he was preparing himself more than anything else.
The place fell quiet.
Just the wind.
The rustle of leaves.
Then the guitar began to play.
Soft. Careful.
As if it was afraid of saying too much.
And when he lifted his head—
his eyes locked onto mine.
He didn’t look away. Not even once.
🎵
In the middle of all the noise, you’re my rest
One smile from you is more than enough
There are words I keep hiding inside
In every melody… you’re the end
🎵
My chest tightened.
Each line tugged at something inside me. I didn’t know if it was the song—or the way he was looking at me while singing it.
🎵
If only I had the courage right now
You’d hear my heart beating loud
So I’ll let this song speak for me instead
These feelings I’m not ready to name
🎵
I hadn’t realized I was gripping the hem of my shirt.
Every note went straight through me—straight to my heart.
Why does it feel like me?
Why does it feel like this song is meant for me?
His fingers pressed harder against the strings. His voice grew steadier. More real.
🎵
If you ever hear this song someday
In the quiet of your own world
Know that you were the inspiration
Of every note… of every feeling
🎵
When he finished, silence wrapped around us.
He kept looking at me.
I couldn’t breathe normally.
My heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it might leap out of my chest.
“Lennox…” I whispered.
“Hmm?” he replied, still watching me.
“Why does it feel like…” I swallowed. “Like you were singing to me?”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he smiled—not wide, not playful.
Just honest.
“Who knows,” he said softly.
⸻
— — —
“Phoebe!”
I turned toward the voice calling my name.
I was backstage now—he’d messaged me earlier, asking me to stay with him because he was nervous. I waved lazily, rolling my eyes. He felt more like a younger brother sometimes.
“Wow,” I said as I approached him. “You look good.”
He pouted. “Only now?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t start.”
“Wow. So mean.”
“Idiot.”
We both laughed.
He was dressed in black—long-sleeved shirt, black slacks, a few buttons undone.
Unfairly handsome.
I stepped closer, making him freeze.
We stared at each other as I reached up, brushing something from his hair.
Confetti.
I smiled. His cheeks flushed instantly.
“You had confetti in your hair,” I said.
He laughed. “For a second, I thought you were going to kiss me.”
I grimaced. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He straightened up—and damn it, he was taller than me.
“I’m willing to stand still,” he said casually, “if you kiss me.”
I froze.
Even as a joke… my heart betrayed me.
“Lennox,” I said quietly, forcing seriousness into my voice. “Stop it.”
He smiled—that smile he knew worked on me.
“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said quickly. Then softer, “But admit it—you got nervous.”
“I did not,” I said too fast, looking away. “You’re delusional.”
“Are you sure?” He leaned down slightly so we were eye level. “Then why are you breathing so fast?”
I shoved his shoulder. “You’re annoying. You’re about to perform—focus.”
He laughed, but his hand trembled slightly as he fixed his sleeve.
“It’s because of you,” he admitted quietly. “When you’re here, I get more nervous.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
The cheers from the crowd grew louder. The next performer was being announced.
“I don’t know,” he said after a pause. “I just want… you to see me.”
Something twisted in my chest.
“Lennox Reyes!” a staff member shouted. “You’re next!”
He took a deep breath. Before leaving, he turned back to me.
“Phoebe.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming,” he said seriously. “When I sing later… just think of it as being for you too.”
The world stilled.
“H-Hey,” I muttered. “Don’t be dramatic.”
He smiled—quiet, sure—then walked toward the stage.
I stayed there, hand pressed against my chest.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It couldn’t.
But when I heard the first strum of his guitar,
when his voice filled the venue—
I knew it was already too late.
Because with every lyric he sang,
with every note that wrapped around the room—
my heart
had already been singing along.
- Writer
