Friends, Good Friends

But if she sat on his bed, that meant something, right? Especially if she sat down first. He should have made a move then. But she got up after only a couple of minutes. But maybe he was supposed to do something in those couple of minutes. He didn't know!

Or in the kitchen, with only one dim light on, shoving cake in each other's faces. That was it. That was the moment! He was kicking himself now, oh boy, was he ever. Laughter, he thought, laughter is the key here. Something silly, something stupid, something where he knows that, right now, they're both happy.

But wasn't he happy? Weren't they happy like this? As friends, as good friends? There was happiness there, there was love, there was trust. And that's not something he wanted to break, not unless he was sure. And a thing like this is never sure.

Or the door, right when she walked in, or right when she was about to leave. When they were close, when it was dark. That's when he should have done it. Yes, the door was the time. So she could have that there for her, that escape, that refusal. So that she could make it quick, and he could get to bed, thinking about all the things he should have done, the words he should have said.