Nadia, moving back to San Francisco.
Nadia, being amazing and fun and comfortable and trustworthy and sexy as hell all the times I’ve seen her over the last two years.
Do I wonder if something more could have come of those times together?
Hell yes.
But right this minute, I choose to focus on the sure thing— I’m damn happy that she’s my friend.
That’s not a judgment call. No intuition needed. It’s a fact.
I’ll see her soon at Eric’s wedding, just after she’s moved here officially. I’m happy to see my pal getting married, but I’ve been dreading the reception, navigating that sea of bad dating decisions waiting to happen. Nadia will be the bright spot there.
Bottom line is I’m damn happy to have her as a friend.
Lord knows I don’t want to go to the wedding and run into other women.
She’s the one I want to talk to at the wedding. The one I want to spend time with. So much more than on a phone call.
Though I do enjoy chatting with her when she calls me that afternoon as I’m heading to the gym.
“Don’t make me wait. What lucky socks are you wearing today?”
“The luckiest ones,” I say. “The giraffe socks you retrieved.”
“Then maybe today is another lucky day,” she says.
“Of course it is. In a few more days, you’ll be here, and soon we’ll be dancing the tango, the polka, and the macarena at your brother’s wedding.”
“Or maybe just the wedding pretend-we-can-dance-well dance.”
“I can dance well, and I bet you can too,” I say.
As we chat longer, I picture dancing with her, bringing her in close, feeling her lush body against me.
And I like that idea.
I like that idea a lot. It’s not the first time I’ve thought it. Doubt it’ll be the last.
I wonder if there are rules for being friends with benefits.
That is, if that’s what I want to be.
Friends with benefits? Or more?
But for the first time, it seems riskier than it ever has before.
There are a ton of reasons why it would be dangerous to act on these feelings. Reasons that should keep me in place.
But maybe it’s the kind of risk that I want to take.
A few weeks later at the wedding, I roll the dice, and I take it. Oh hell, do I ever take it, when I walk her back to her room at the end of the night…
***
