I wish you were here with me.
It’s honest. Maybe not complete, but honest. The reply takes longer this time.
You have plenty of friends to keep you company.
I let out a quiet breath. That one stings, and I deserve it. She heard something tonight. I know she did. She may not have been standing right there, but she’s too perceptive to miss what I left unsaid.
I don’t want a friend.
The truth feels bigger than that sentence, but I send it anyway. There’s a pause before her next message arrives.
What do you want then?
I stare at the question longer than I should.
What do I want?
I want the way she challenges me. The way she sees through me. The way she stands in my corner, as if I’m already worth believing in. I want her in my home without it feeling temporary. I want to stop wondering whether I’m about to lose her because I was too afraid to claim her.
I want her.
Nothing attached.
Just her.
So I type only what feels honest.
You.
The message is sent, and suddenly the waiting feels unbearable.
The screen stays still. I tell myself she’s thinking. That she’s choosing her words the way I chose mine. That this isn’t the end of the conversation. But as the minutes stretch, the silence feels less like hesitation and more like distance. I finally sit down, elbows on my knees, phone dangling from my hand.
For the first time tonight, I let the truth fully sink in.
If I don’t say what I mean—clearly, without hiding behind half-answers—I’ll lose her.
And that’s not something I can blame on anyone but myself.
ANDI
You.
The single word sits on my screen, small and deceptively simple. I read it twice, then a third time, as if something more might appear behind it if I stare long enough.
He wants me. I already know that. I’ve felt it in the way he holds me, in the way his eyes follow me across a room, in the way his voice lowers when he says my name. None of that has ever been the question.
The question has always been whether or not he wantsus.
There’s a difference between desire and decision. Between reaching for someone who’s available and choosing them because you mean it.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard before I finally type.
What does that mean?
The three dots appear almost immediately. My stomach tightens. He’s typing, and then the dots disappear. Now he’s thinking. At least he’s trying, I guess.
Then the dots reappear and disappear just as quickly.
