Spoilers: Your Cheating Heart, My Way Author's notes: First PoTF ffic. You should know before you read this that I tend not to use names much when I write pieces like this. I let you know whose talking or, in this case, thinking, but I don't say names often. I don't know why. I hope this doesn't bother anyone, because it has with other fics and so now I'm paranoid.
Disclaimer: Phil of the Future doesn't belong to me. If it did, Phil and Keely would make out at least once an episode. For long periods of time.
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It'd started out as an English assignment. They'd been assigned to write a poem and she'd just started writing, without really thinking.
Keely doesn't consider herself a romantic. She likes romantic comities but doesn't swoon over pop stars or hot football players. Not since Tanner, anyway.
And that's why, as she read over what she'd written, she decided she couldn't turn it in. They were to read there works out loud; she didn't think she'd be able to read this to anyone but herself, if even that.
She's not exactly sure why. She doesn't like Phil; not like that. Not how she liked Tanner, anyway. Phil's cute, sure. So was Tanner. But that's where the similarities stop.
Phil's sweet and kind and funny and he makes her smile and gah, maybe she does like him. She's not sure, and it's too confusing to think about.
But Keely knows she can't read this to anyone. So she writes about butterflies instead. And even though her second poem's good she can't bring herself to throw the first one away.
She puts it away somewhere and promptly forgets about it. She wishes she could forget about Phil and her non-crush on him just as easily.
She found the poem again while she was looking for her math book one morning. She threw it in her bag and pulled it out later that night when she was getting out her homework. Something kept her from putting it away.
That same thing made her put it to music. Sing it when she was sure no one was around, except for him.
It was true, what she said. As long as she focused on him, she could sing it just fine. But she didn't just focus on where he was sitting.
She pretended they were more. They held hands and he'd put his arm around her and sometimes, she'd imagine what it was like to kiss him.
Those were her best performances.
He knows the song was dedicated to him, but he doesn't know she wrote it. He doesn't know she thinks about kissing him all the time now.
And he won't.
Ever.
She thinks.