Just Friends

I didn’t know what to think the first time he asked me. Standing there, trembling in the night’s cold air, I nodded hesitantly. What did I have to lose? It’s not like I’d signed a marriage contract or anything. It was just a date. One night, two friends, and endless possibilities. We’d been close for over a year now; no harm in giving “us” a try. He smiled. 

A week later, curled up on the grass, twigs biting my bare toes, I poured my story out to him. I hugged my knees and let the words rush out. I figured he should know. The safety pins in my pockets, Courtney’s fingers in mine. My head pressed against the cold toilet seat every night after dinner. My naked words just wanted someone to accept them. But he was ashamed. 

Just friends, he said, as if that’s what we weren’t already. Just friends and nothing else. But he meant something more like, your story scares me. Because really “just friends” aren’t friends at all. “Just friends” means, you screwed up and I don’t know how to say it nicely. “Just friends” means I thought you were better. “Just friends” means goodbye.