A Crush I’ll Never Admit to in Person

Ever had a crush that hits you like a freight train, but you’d rather eat glass than tell them how you feel? That’s me with Alex. He’s the guy who’s got my heart in a chokehold, and I’ll probably go to my grave before I ever fess up. This is the raw, messy tale of a crush that’s as exhilarating as it is gut-wrenching, a secret I carry like a bruise I can’t stop pressing.

It all kicked off at a friend’s game night a couple of years back. Alex strolled in, all casual with his messy hair and a worn-out Monopoly box tucked under his arm like it was his prized possession. Have you ever locked eyes with someone and felt your whole world tilt? That was him. He wasn’t trying to be the center of attention, but he was—quietly magnetic, with a grin that could melt ice and a way of making you feel seen. By the time we were arguing over who cheated at Uno, I was done for, my heart whispering, Oh no, this guy’s trouble.

We started hanging out more, thanks to our shared friends. Game nights turned into group coffee runs, impromptu movie nights, and heated debates about whether ketchup belongs in the fridge (he says no, I say yes, and we’re still not over it). Every moment with him felt like a spark. He’d call me out for overthinking or remember some dumb story I told about burning my first attempt at pancakes. Don’t you love when someone remembers the little things about you, and it feels like they’re collecting pieces of your soul? I’d catch myself staring when he was lost in thought, noticing the way his fingers tapped when he was excited or how his eyes lit up when he laughed.

But here’s the deal: I’ll never tell him. Not in a million years. Why? Because it’s too damn risky. Alex is the heartbeat of our friend group, the guy everyone gravitates to. Spilling my feelings would be like setting fire to our little circle. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if it makes things awkward, and suddenly I’m dodging him at karaoke night? Ever held back because the fear of screwing things up outweighs the hope of something more? That’s my prison. Plus, he’s got this effortless charm—there’s no way he’s not got someone else in his sights, right? I’d rather die quietly than face the sting of a polite rejection.

This crush is a rollercoaster. On one hand, Alex is my happy place. I’ll replay our late-night talks in my head, dissecting every laugh, every glance. Like that time he grabbed my wrist to drag me through a packed street fair, and my brain basically shut down. On the other hand, it’s pure torture. Every time he mentions a date or flashes that smile at someone else, my stomach twists. I’ll grin, play it cool, but inside I’m yelling, “Why can’t it be me?” It’s like I’m stuck in my own private soap opera, and I’m the only one who knows the script.

What makes Alex so hard to shake is how real he is. He’s not just a pretty face—he’s the guy who’ll drop everything to help a friend move or show up with takeout when you’re having a rough day. He’s the one who’ll play your favorite song just to see you light up. Ever met someone so good it ruins you for anyone else? Sure, he’s got flaws—he’s stubborn as a mule and always ten minutes late—but those just make me like him more. He’s not perfect; he’s human, and that’s what kills me.

I’ve tried to get over it. I’ve gone on dates, scrolled through dating apps, told myself I’m being pathetic. But nobody measures up. They don’t have his dumb laugh or his knack for making a bad day feel okay. I even tried ghosting our friend group for a bit, thinking distance would help. Big mistake. The second I saw him again, handing me a coffee “because it’s your kind,” I was right back to square one. Why does the heart cling to the one person it can’t have?

The regret isn’t just that I’ll never confess—it’s that I’m trapped in this limbo, half-dreaming he’ll figure it out, half-dreading he will. I play out the confession in my head sometimes, usually at 2 a.m. when I can’t sleep. It’s all very Hollywood: I pour my heart out, he’s stunned, then pulls me into a kiss. In reality, I’d probably choke on my words and bolt. So, I keep it locked up, letting this crush simmer in my head where it’s safe.

For now, I’ll keep stealing moments with him, soaking up every laugh, every brush of our shoulders. Maybe one day I’ll find the guts, or maybe this’ll just be a story I laugh about when I’m old. Until then, Alex is my secret, my ache, my heart’s little rebellion.

So, who’s your secret crush? And what’s stopping you from saying it out loud? Some secrets are too heavy to carry, but too sweet to let go.