Do You Have a Crush on Me?💕
It’s such a simple question, yet it holds the power to change everything.
“Do you have a crush on me?” Those six words, when spoken out loud, carry the weight of hope, curiosity, and vulnerability. They hang in the air like a delicate balloon, waiting to either float gently into something beautiful… or pop, leaving nothing but awkward silence.
So here I am, wondering. Not quite sure if I’m brave enough to ask, but also too tangled in my own thoughts not to think about it. You smile at me a certain way, sometimes. You remember the little things I say — like how I like my coffee or the fact that my favorite flower is the kind people never buy: baby’s breath. You tease me just the right amount. You send those long goodnight texts that end with “sleep well” and a moon emoji. Not just a quick “gn.” No, you make sure I feel seen.
And yet, maybe you’re just kind. Maybe that’s just who you are — thoughtful, charming, easy to talk to. I’ve tried to analyze every interaction like I’m decoding some secret language, looking for proof that your heart beats a little faster when I’m near. Sometimes I think I catch it. A pause. A glance that lingers. A laugh that feels too genuine. But then I doubt myself. What if it’s all in my head?
Because let’s be honest, asking “Do you have a crush on me?” is terrifying. It’s opening the door to rejection. It’s risking the friendship we’ve built. It’s admitting that I see you in a way that goes beyond late-night conversations and inside jokes. It’s telling you that I think about you more than I probably should.
But maybe, just maybe, you feel the same.
Crushes are funny things. They creep up on you slowly, until one day, you realize you can’t look at that person the same way anymore. It’s not just “fun hanging out with you.” It’s “I wish we were more.” Suddenly, you’re overthinking your replies, choosing your outfits more carefully, and wondering if they’re talking about you when they’re smiling at their phone.
I’ve noticed how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love — that spark, that passion. I could listen to you ramble about your favorite shows, your dreams, your weird food combos (yes, I remember that you dip fries in milkshake) for hours. I like the way your laugh makes me want to laugh too, even when I didn’t hear the joke properly. I like the way you say my name. It’s soft. Familiar. Like a song I want to hear on repeat.
So… do you have a crush on me?
Maybe I should just ask. Maybe I should stop pretending like I’m fine being “just friends” when the truth is, I’m not. I want more. I want to hold your hand, not just brush against it accidentally. I want to be the reason behind your smile — not just a witness to it. I want to go on real dates, not ones we pretend aren’t dates just to avoid making things awkward.
But I’m scared. Because once the words are out, there’s no taking them back. What if you don’t feel the same? What if I ruin what we have? What if you start pulling away, and the closeness I love slowly disappears?
Still, what if you do like me back? What if you’ve been waiting for a sign too? What if you’re just as scared, just as unsure, just as full of hope?
There’s a kind of magic in a mutual crush. That slow-burning realization that someone you like likes you too. It’s exhilarating. It makes you feel like the world is suddenly brighter. Like every love song makes sense. Like maybe, just maybe, something wonderful is about to begin.
I imagine the moment — you looking at me with that half-smile, the one you save for when you’re trying not to blush. You’d say something like, “I thought it was obvious,” or “Took you long enough to ask.” And we’d laugh. Because all that tension, all those little moments we tiptoed around, would finally have a name. A beginning.
And then there’s the flip side. Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe you care — just not that way. Maybe you’d let me down gently, with kindness, and a soft “I’m really flattered.” And it would sting. But at least I’d know. At least I wouldn’t be stuck wondering, replaying every moment like a movie with an uncertain ending.
So maybe asking “Do you have a crush on me?” isn’t about forcing a love story. Maybe it’s about being honest with myself, and with you. It’s about choosing clarity over confusion, truth over endless guessing games.
Even if the answer is no, I’ll survive. I’ll heal. I’ll grow. But if the answer is yes… if there’s even a small chance that you see me the way I see you, then it’s a risk worth taking.
And honestly, if someone asked me that question — “Do you have a crush on me?” — I’d probably smile, blush a little, and say, “Yeah. I think I do.”
So maybe it’s time.
Maybe next time we talk, I’ll work up the courage to ask. Maybe I’ll say it casually, like it’s no big deal. Or maybe I’ll just blurt it out, heart racing, hands shaking. Who knows?
But one thing’s for sure — if I never ask, I’ll never know.
So tell me, do you have a crush on me? 💕
Let me know if you want to turn this into a dialogue, a short story, or maybe even a social media caption series!
