THE THING I WAS AFRAID TO FEEL
1662 Words
I stared at the photograph on my phone until my eyes began to hurt.
It was definitely Ethan and me.
We were leaving school together, completely unaware that someone was watching us from across the street.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Who took this? I finally typed.
Ethan replied almost immediately.
I don't know.
Where did you get it?
My father sent it to me.
I frowned.
Why would he have it?
There was a pause.
Then:
Because someone sent it to him.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
I looked toward my bedroom window.
The curtains were closed, but suddenly I wished I'd checked the street before coming inside.
Are you at home? Ethan asked.
Yes.
Stay inside.
I rolled my eyes.
Even through a text message, he was bossy.
You don't get to tell me what to do.
His response came quickly.
You're right. I'm asking.
I stared at those words.
Somehow, they affected me more than they should have.
Okay.
A few seconds passed.
I'll call you.
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Are you okay?”
His voice sounded different.
Less confident.
More serious.
“I think so.”
“Did you see anyone outside?”
“No.”
“Lock your windows.”
“Already did.”
“Good.”
There was silence.
Neither of us seemed to know what to say next.
Then Ethan sighed.
“About earlier…”
I swallowed.
“What about it?”
“Chloe.”
My stomach tightened.
“You don't have to explain.”
“I want to.”
I sat on my bed.
“Okay.”
“She wasn't telling me she liked me.”
I stared at the floor.
“Then what was she saying?”
“She asked me if I liked you.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She said everyone could see something was happening between us.”
I didn't know what to say.
“And what did you tell her?”
He was quiet.
“Ethan?”
“I told her I didn't know.”
I looked down at my hands.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Know?”
Another silence.
Then he said quietly, “Maybe.”
My heart started beating faster.
“Maybe?”
“Lena…”
“Yeah?”
“I don't know what this is.”
Neither did I.
“We've spent years fighting,” he continued. “And suddenly we're working together, talking every day, and somehow you're the first person I want to tell everything to.”
I didn't answer.
“I don't understand it,” he admitted.
“Neither do I.”
There was another pause.
Then I heard him laugh softly.
“At least we're confused together.”
I smiled.
“That's one way to look at it.”
“I have another question.”
“What?”
“Do you still hate me?”
I closed my eyes.
The answer should have been easy.
It wasn't.
“I don't know.”
He was quiet.
“That's not a no.”
“No.”
“It's not a yes either.”
“I know.”
For some reason, we both laughed.
Then he said, “Goodnight, Carter.”
“Goodnight, Blake.”
I ended the call.
I lay back on my pillow and stared at the ceiling.
For the first time, I wasn't trying to convince myself that I hated Ethan.
I was trying to figure out what I actually felt.
And that was much more frightening.
The following morning, Ethan was waiting outside my classroom.
The moment he saw me, he smiled.
“You're here.”
“Obviously.”
“I wasn't sure you'd come.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“Because you ignored my messages last night.”
I looked away.
“I was thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
His smile disappeared.
“Oh.”
I immediately regretted saying it.
“I mean…”
“I know what you meant.”
“No, you don't.”
He stepped closer.
“Then tell me.”
I looked at him.
For once, Ethan wasn't teasing.
He was waiting.
“I don't know what we're doing,” I admitted.
“Neither do I.”
“But I don't want to go back to hating you.”
His expression softened.
“Neither do I.”
Before either of us could say anything else, the bell rang.
Students began flooding through the hallway.
Ethan stepped aside.
“I'll see you after class.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
He walked away.
I watched him disappear into the crowd.
“Wow.”
I turned.
Mia was standing behind me.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
I groaned.
“Don't.”
She smiled.
“I wasn't going to say anything.”
“You were.”
“I was.”
I laughed.
“Come on.”
Classes passed slowly.
By lunchtime, everyone seemed to be talking about the upcoming leadership competition.
Our team had made it to the next stage, which meant Ethan and I would have to present together in front of the entire school.
I was nervous.
Not about the presentation.
About standing beside him.
Because lately, every time Ethan looked at me, I noticed.
Every smile.
Every little joke.
Every time our hands accidentally brushed while reaching for the same paper.
It was becoming impossible to ignore.
That afternoon, we practiced in the auditorium.
Ethan stood at the front of the stage while I read through our presentation.
“You're rushing,” he said.
“I'm nervous.”
“You don't get nervous.”
“I do.”
“Not around me.”
I looked at him.
“Maybe that's the problem.”
He smiled.
I looked away quickly.
We continued practicing.
Then Ethan stopped.
“What?”
He pointed toward the back of the auditorium.
“There.”
A man stood near the exit.
He looked familiar.
I couldn't place him.
Ethan stepped in front of me.
“Stay here.”
The man turned and walked out.
Ethan followed.
I ran after him.
“Ethan, wait!”
He stopped outside.
The hallway was empty.
“Where did he go?”
“I don't know.”
I looked around.
“Do you think it was the person following us?”
“Maybe.”
“Then what do we do?”
He looked at me.
“We tell someone.”
For once, neither of us argued.
We went directly to the school administrator.
Security footage showed the man entering the building but never leaving through the main entrance.
That meant he had either left through another exit or was still inside.
The school was searched, but no one was found.
By the time we left that afternoon, the sky had turned gray.
Ethan walked beside me.
“I'll walk you home.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
“But?”
“But I want to.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
We walked through the quiet streets.
For once, neither of us felt the need to argue.
Eventually, Ethan spoke.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you hate me so much?”
I laughed softly.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“When we were twelve, you told everyone I cheated on the science exam.”
His eyes widened.
“You still remember that?”
“Of course.”
“I didn't say you cheated.”
“You said you thought I cheated.”
“Because you finished the exam in fifteen minutes!”
“I was prepared.”
“You got the highest score.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed.
“I was jealous.”
I looked at him.
“Jealous?”
“You were always better than me at academics.”
“You've beaten me plenty of times.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“But I hated losing to you.”
I shook my head.
“That's the stupidest reason I've ever heard.”
“Probably.”
We kept walking.
Then he said, “I think I know why we kept fighting.”
“Why?”
“Because it was easier.”
I looked at him.
“Easier than what?”
He hesitated.
“Admitting that I cared what you thought about me.”
My heart skipped.
I didn't know what to say.
So I looked ahead.
After a moment, I whispered, “Maybe I did too.”
He looked at me.
“You cared?”
“Don't make me repeat it.”
He laughed.
“Okay.”
When we reached my house, we stopped at the gate.
“Goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
Neither of us moved.
Then Ethan smiled.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
He turned to leave.
I watched him walk away.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
I didn't want Ethan Blake to be my enemy anymore.
I wanted him to be the person I could trust.
The person I could talk to.
The person who made me laugh when everything felt complicated.
And somewhere along the way, the boy I had spent years hating had become the person I was most afraid of losing.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
Stay away from Ethan.
I froze.
Another message arrived.
You have no idea what his family did to yours.
I stared at the screen.
Then one final message appeared.
If you continue investigating, you'll regret it.
I looked toward the road.
Ethan was already gone.
For the first time, I wondered whether getting closer to him was putting both of us in danger.
And despite everything, one thought was louder than all the others.
I wasn't going to walk away from him.
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