This isn't weird.

Rain Check

 "So... let me get this straight," Indigo said. "You spent an entire day trapped in a car with your dream girl, in what was more or less the most romantic situation physically possible."

"Well... kind of, I guess," Ben mumbled.

"And she opened up to you about how miserable she is in her current relationship..."

"To be fair, I was kind of prying."

"And you basically got naked together, held hands in the rain or whatever, and cuddled in the backseat."

"We weren't naked, we just didn't want to get our clothes completely soaked. And I wouldn't call it cuddling—"

"You showed me pictures, Ben. You literally presented me with incontrovertible evidence of the at least nearly naked cuddling."

"It was just for a selfie."

"A couple dozen selfies."

"She didn't like the first one."

"And not once in the middle of all this Nicholas Sparks bullshit did you so much as attempt to kiss her."

"Well, she is still in a relationship, technically. And I don't want her to think I'm trying to take advantage of her when she's vulnerable. Besides, if she wasn't into it, we'd have been trapped together in a car for hours—"

"Then you had an adorable little dinner date at some cutesy little mom-and-pop diner—"

"It wasn't a date. We just needed to eat!"

"You shared one slice of pie."

"It was a big slice!"

"And then at the end of it all, she took you home—at almost midnight—and asked if you wanted her stay... and you shot her down."

There was a moment of sullen silence.

"Oh, Ben. You beautiful fucking idiot. Hold on, let me get more light on your sad, stupid face. This is fucking art."

Ben grimaced and covered his eyes as Indigo adjusted the light. "Come on, man. Can you just give it a rest with the goddamn camera? I don't want this on fucking film."

"If you choose to overshare in the presence of my creative genius, you have to accept your status as muse. Chin up, get some light on your eyes. Please keep talking."

Unconcerned with Indigo's direction, Ben hid his face in his hands and groaned. "What is wrong with me? Why would I... Fuck. Fuck. Should I text her? Maybe I should text her. No, she's sleeping by now. Fuck." He sighed and looked up. "You know what? Maybe I'm reading too much into it. She probably didn't mean stay the night... right? I mean, you don't actually think she wanted to—"

"Resume the cuddling, fully nude?" Indigo interrupted flatly. "Hmm. Signs point to yes." He adjusted the camera slightly to the left to better capture the full effect of Ben dying inside.

"Oh my god, Indigo. What did I just do?"

"What did you do, Ben? Well, as far as Millie is concerned, it would appear that you have officially relegated her to the friendzone."

"No," Ben groaned. "No, no, no. I have to call her. I have to." He reached for his phone, but staring down at it, he couldn't begin to imagine what he would say. Sorry to wake you, just wanted to confirm whether or not I accidentally turned down an invitation to have sex with you tonight? God, there was no way to pose the question that didn't make him sound like an absolute scumbag. It wasn't even about sex. He didn't care about sex. Well, he cared about sex a little—but that was strictly secondary to everything else he felt about her. It was the idea of making her feel rejected that made him feel truly ill.