_

Wendy sat on her study table, a fountain pen delicately twirling in her fingers while she read some notes she’d taken in her classes today.

Acting like a nerd.

She unconsciously smiled to herself when she remembered that day on detention five months ago. A lot has changed since then. And the biggest one was probably the way she thinks of Irene now.

Wendy reached for a leather-bound journal resting on her desk. The last entry was three months ago. They were both racing for the library when a sudden downpour happened.

“The sky is falling,” she said, raising her face upwards the rain and letting it soak her. I just nodded in response, busy looking for an umbrella that I undoubtedly forgot to pack in my bag.

It was colder than expected and I was shivering. But she was happy under the rain, she danced and sang her lungs out. It was weird.

Flashes of lighting behind the grey clouds worried me so I started to walk towards the library. She grinned at me, teasing. “You’re a wimp.”

I watched her image through the water-stained glass window. Her arms were spread wide, as if welcoming all the water back to the earth.

I briefly wondered what it is like to live her life,

to see things in her perspective,

to taste,

to touch,

to love,

to feel what she feels.

Wendy gently closed the journal and all those sacred words that are sometimes better off as written than spoken.

She’d never admit it to herself, much less to the other girl. But since then, the way she looked at Irene became different. Sure, they still fought and argue over the silliest things but the hostility wasn’t present anymore.

Wendy fought and compete against her just to get her attention, make Irene look at her, and listen, and talk to her.

It was dumb, but it seemed the easiest way.

It was also Wendy who secretly told her teacher to team them up for the book report just so she has an excuse to be with Irene.

Pathetic, she mused, scolding herself. You act all tough outside but you can’t even acknowledge your own feelings.

The reason why she stopped writing entries in her journal was because she was afraid of looking at her thoughts openly inked on the paper.

Afraid that if she poured everything out, there was only one inevitable conclusion.

Afraid that Irene might find out.

Afraid of breaking her own heart.

Her self-pity party was interrupted when the grade for her book report was texted by their teacher. They got an A, obviously.

She decided to message Irene to tell her – although it’s a hundred percent sure that she already knew because the teacher also sent her the grade.

Any excuse for a conversation, right?

She sent several messages over the chat app, the first one humbly bragging about the grade they got, the next was if Irene had her dinner yet, the next was something random she thought of just to have another thing to talk about.

All were seen. All went unanswered.

Wendy’s heart sank. She put her phone down with a sigh and decided to talk to Irene in person to settle her growing feelings once and for all.

_

Irene was walking to her locker when she spied Wendy waiting by it, head bowed, earphones in both ears, and browsing on her phone.

She instinctively spun around, following the throng of students moving to their next classes. She didn’t want to see Wendy today, or tomorrow, or even next week.

Is it too late to transfer schools?

She hasn’t talked to her for several days now, not even through texts. She was also careful to always leave the earliest from the classes she shared with Wendy.

That girl has been on her mind for most of the days since she came back drunk from her house. And it can’t be a good thing. Feelings like this should be locked inside a strongbox, put in a vault and get filled in with concrete.

They’ve been at each other’s throats ever since Wendy came to the school, and not even in a ual way. Although Irene has been enjoying the competition a lot lately, especially whenever Wendy would specifically pick the counterpoint to her argument and they’d end up debating up a storm.

Emotions, however, made things difficult for her. She doesn’t want Wendy to know about it. The latter might not like the idea of them being together. It’s just easier for her to avoid Wendy than to have Wendy avoid her.

And Irene decided to ignore her feelings until they go away.

Eventually. Hopefully.

“Are you avoiding me?”

She didn’t realize that Wendy has seen her and tailed her until she was able to corner Irene. She tried to walk past Wendy but the latter blocked her way, then crossed her arms and fixed her with a ‘you’re not getting away from me that easily’ stare.

“I need to go, I still have a class,” Irene stared at the space next to Wendy’s face, still refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“I have to go-”

“Is that a yes?”

Irene sighed and lowered her eyes but she didn’t answer.

“Did I do or say anything wrong?” Wendy asked, pain laced her tone. “If I did or whatever, can you please just tell me so I don’t overthink everything? I can’t even sleep properly over this-” she gestured vaguely at the space between them. “Whatever this is, it’s driving me crazy. I don’t even know what I did, can you tell me? Please?”

Irene had to swallow the lump in before pulling a deep breath. She didn’t want to do this now, or ever really, but she knew Wendy wouldn’t stop bugging her about it so…

“I don’t like it,” she murmured quietly, her face still down.

Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t like me?”

“No, I don’t-” Irene’s voice broke and she paused to collect herself.

“I don’t like what I feel when I’m near you, or when you say my name, or your smile, and your eyes, and your voice, and I hate it!”

“What?” Wendy’s face was full of confusion. She wasn’t sure what Irene just said. They’re words but they don’t seem to make any sense.

“You’re not even my type!” Irene wailed.

“You’re avoiding me becaus