The room was quiet except for our breathing, like we were both trying to come back to ourselves. He lay beside me, one arm heavy across my waist.

I closed my eyes and let myself feel it: the warmth, the calm, the softness that came after something intense. My body was relaxed in a way I wasn’t used to. My mind, though, was busy.

How did I even get here?

I remembered the first day I really noticed him. How he stood during worship, eyes closed, singing like he meant every word. How he didn’t try too hard to be seen. How he listened when people spoke. He wasn’t loud or showy like some of the men I’d met before. He had this quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t need approval.

That was what pulled me in.

We started talking after service, small talk at first, then longer conversations that stretched into the week. He remembered things I said. Asked questions and waited for answers. He didn’t rush me, didn’t flirt carelessly. When he smiled, it felt intentional.

He was different.

That was the word that kept returning to me now, as his fingers moved slowly through my hair, like he had all the time in the world.

Different from the men who only called late at night. Different from the ones who made promises they never meant to keep. With him, I felt seen. And that scared me.

Because now that we had crossed this line, I wasn’t sure I could pretend it meant nothing.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, my chest tightening slightly. What if I wanted more? What if this wasn’t just a moment I could pack away and forget? The thought of wanting him again, his presence, his care, felt dangerous. Wanting him like this could change things.

He shifted beside me, his hand pausing in my hair.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said softly.

I turned to look at him. He was watching me.

“Am I that obvious?” I asked.

He smiled. “A little.”

I hesitated, then decided not to hide. “I was just… wondering what this means.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding something in too. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

That surprised me.

“I don’t do things like this without feeling something,” he continued. “And I don’t want this to be something we pretend didn’t matter.”

My heart skipped, slow and heavy.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too?” I asked.

He nodded. “Since before tonight.”

Silence settled between us again, but this time it was warm, full. His thumb brushed lightly against my arm, grounding me.

“I like you,” he said simply. “Not just what happened here. You.”

I felt something loosen inside me. 

I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and sure. For the first time in a long while, the idea of tomorrow didn’t make me anxious. It made me curious.

Maybe this could be more than a secret moment. Maybe it could be the start of something real.

As he held me closer, I allowed myself to imagine it. The possibility of finally dating him didn’t feel impossible anymore.

It felt like something I wanted to try.

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