“And other stuff,” I admitted.
They waited. Didn’t push. That alone loosened something in me.
“I made a move,” I said. “On Wyatt.”
Beth’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay.”
“And he pulled back.”
Natasha’s expression softened immediately. “Pulled back, how?”
“Carefully,” I said. “Gently. Like he was afraid of breaking me.”
Beth winced. “Oof.”
“Exactly.”
I twisted the edge of the pillow between my fingers. “I think he thinks I’m too fragile right now. Or that he’d be taking advantage. Or—” I laughed weakly. “Or that I’m just his sad childhood friend who cries on bridges.”
Natasha crossed the room and sat beside me. “Hey. None of that is you.”
“It sure feels like it.”
Beth perched on the armchair. “Did he say he wasn’t attracted to you?”
“No.”
“Did he say he only sees you as a friend?”
“No.”
“Then this,” Beth said decisively, “is a him problem.”
Natasha nodded.
I exhaled slowly. “He texted. He wants to take me to dinner tomorrow.”
Beth’s mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile. “Good.”
I blinked. “That’s it? No speech? No warnings?”
“Listen,” she said. “You didn’t imagine what’s happening between you two. I watched him carry you off that bridge like the world had narrowed to one person. That’s not platonic.”
Natasha squeezed my hand. “You were brave today. Twice. Once on the bridge. Once with him.”
I swallowed hard. “It still hurts.”
“Of course, it does,” Natasha said gently. “But hurt doesn’t mean wrong.”
They stayed until the tightness in my chest eased, until the room felt less lonely. Eventually, Beth stretched and announced she needed a shower and carbs.
When they left, I picked up my phone again.
Me:Dinner tomorrow sounds okay. Thank you for apologizing.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Wyatt:Thank you for not slamming the door in my face. Literally or otherwise.
