Parallel Lines

The Simplest Version: Introduction

Nothing ever happened between us.
Nothing physical, anyway.
That's the simplest way to explain it.
It's also the least honest.

Things did happen. Smaller, quieter things. Inside jokes; eye contact that lingered just a little too long. The usual shit you experience when something remains unspoken.

Here's the thing: unspoken things can be misunderstood, but surely I wasn't, and am not, so deluded that I'd entirely romanticise a scenario into existence just for the sake of my ego. The situation is this: we are now twenty-five. He's had a girlfriend for three years. I escaped a toxic relationship a year ago. And yet, things between us are still innocent, unresolved, and silent. Good job, Angel; how have you managed that?

Blurred lines mean boundaries aren't entirely clear. I'm not one to break up a relationship, nor could I ever be "the other woman" again. It wouldn't be fair to her, and it certainly wouldn't make things easier. I lost my chance; I could have made a move years ago, but then we face another problem: he has never actually admitted to having feelings for me. Remember my previous question about me being deluded? Yeah...

Now, if I were to ask you, or anyone for that matter: if you shared a bed with a man you've had unresolved feelings for, and nothing physical happened, would you believe me? No. Neither would I. Shockingly, that is my reality. Maybe it's a good thing, mutual respect. I tell myself it's because we respect the friendship. Worst case? He thinks I have no feelings for him at all. And that is the furthest thing from the truth; I unfortunately yearn for this man. Hard, painfully, and I will probably spend the rest of my existence doing so. Unless things change.

Oh, and there's one little detail... his sister has been my best friend for twenty years.