Slow Burn

“So, we’re still best friends who are dating and I’m your girlfriend and we love each other?”
“That pretty much sums it up, yeah.”
“We’re in a frelationship.”

How was this the right thing to do? Why was I doing this? Surely this was irrational. Why couldn’t I just have her? Why couldn’t I have the career I loved and the love of my life? There were firefighters all over the city, for fuck’s sake, all over the world, who lived long and happy lives. Who had the best of both worlds and were able to play the doting husband, father, and brave smoke eater.

Would he be fun between the sheets? I wanted to know, and I’d never felt so free as I did right this very second. So wild.

“You are trouble tonight.”
“And you’re no fun anymore,” I said over my shoulder as I left him to use the bathroom.
But he was. He was so much fun.

Having a crush on your best friend was a minefield, and I wasn’t willing to be the one who blew it all to pieces.

You found a girl who could throw a perfect spiral, a girl who was constantly baking your favorite treats, a warm, funny, and smart girl. A girl who sat in a hockey rink for hours on end while you contorted yourself blocking pucks just so you had someone to talk to after, then you held onto her with everything you’d got.