adorably vibing to Carly Rae Jepsen. It only made me like him even more, though I kept it buried. He was just my quirky, straight friend Ryan.
Our trio often included Sabrina, one of the first people I met in Colorado, and a bond I cherish. Of course, I´d be there for her birthday. Ryan offered to pick me up, insisting it was too cold for me to walk. At the party, Sabrina had invited a few others, one of whom brought Tim. Sweet Timothy with his striking looks: tall, blonde, and piercing blue eyes. But as the night wore on, some of the men at the party began making crude comments targeted mostly towards my gender, and it wasn’t long before one of our friends rescued me, steering me toward Tim, who was silent but would smile at me occasionally. We exchanged pleasant words, and before I knew it, he was offering to walk me home.
Looking back, I couldn’t ignore the way Ryan was lingering nearby, with a strange expression on his face as I laughed at Tim’s charm. I finally said my goodbyes and headed home with Tim, curious about what the night would bring. But what followed wasn't what I had in mind. He passed out on my bed and threw up on it. It's funny how life humbles you. He apologized profusely, but really, we've all been there.
The reason why I mentioned Tim is that a week after that, I had him over again for a movie. His eagerness definitely felt like a sign to me, but I was just getting tangled in mixed signals. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to make a move or not, or if I was just overthinking the whole situation. So I texted Ryan about it, asking for clarity. His answer, though, was nothing like I expected.
"If it were me, I'd cave in. I do find you attractive.
Having said that I don't want to fuck up our friendship "
That message hit me like a train. Tim wasn't on my mind anymore. The possibility of anything happening with him faded almost immediately. Ryan's words had shaken me, and as we talked more about it, we decided to never cross the line for the sake of our friendship, it meant too much. Or so we thought.
This all unfolded around the holidays, a time that always made me feel a bit melancholic, especially after a chaotic family dinner and ride back home. On Christmas Eve I found myself sinking into that familiar sadness. I texted Ryan and, being his usual comforting self, offered to come over. He was just a few blocks away, but he took his time. When he finally arrived, I couldn't help but notice how cute he looked in his khaki pants, denim shirt, and leather jacket, complete with a messy bun. Something was different, but in an exciting way.
Hours into our little soiree, our conversations led to my favorite topic: love and love languages. I knew mine without a doubt: touch. I'm a hugger, and there's something so comforting about linking pinkies with those I trust. He seemed a bit confused, so I showed him, and we linked our pinkies. I felt a rush through my whole body the second our fingers touched, and as I looked up, I met his beautiful green eyes staring into mine. His expression was a perfect mix of both hesitation and longing. The unspoken question was "Do you want this, too?. I leaned in first, and he quickly followed until our lips met in a kiss that felt like it had been a long time coming. The passion that followed was a revelation, a kiss full of everything we hadn't said but had both been feeling all along. It was perfect.
We agreed to keep it between us, to stay friends before anything else. But that night, we slept side by side, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in the closeness without crossing any boundaries. We didn't go any further, but the intimacy was undeniable. When morning came, he left with a smile, and all I could think was.
"What am I getting myself into?"
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