More than this

“I don’t consider [talking with you right now] as quality time; this is just time, because it’s the most important thing. It’s THE priority. It’s more than quality time.“

It was humid outside and the pulsing lightning illuminated the angry clouds in the distance behind him. It’s a very odd thing, having someone you admire sit in your passenger seat telling you about his past relationships, drinking bubble tea. We were comfortable, and that to me in itself was foreign and strange. I didn’t know what I was feeling.

He shared things with me that he’d “never told/tell any girl before” and I told him a story about one of the hardest, most pivotal times in my life. In that intimate space the defenses were down. Any question was free game. And we carried on like that for 3 hours, laughing, discussing, asking, and learning. From trivial to personal, lighthearted to heavy, we shared ourselves. He wasn’t so distant anymore and I wasn’t so scared. I could be me and that’d be okay with him.

Although from our conversation I felt he didn’t and doesn’t reciprocate, that time became something more. It’s like someone hit a pause button on my feelings and I could just enjoy his company. No hoping, no second-guessing, no wondering. He’s a non-competitive inhibitor, which may be the best way I can describe it all.

I’m still on pause until something sets it back into motion (to continue on or go another way), but last night will be a happy memory no matter what happens.

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.”