Friend-zone

"This place feels a bit stuffy, want to head out for a bit?" I typed into my phone and blinked the screen at Dan. He nodded, and started walking towards the exit, looking back every few seconds to make sure I was still behind him. As we climbed up from the basement club, he smiled at me, reaching to hold my hand as I caught up with him.

Stepping out into the cool night, obvious that it had been raining a while back – typical English weather that I had gotten used to, few seconds passed in a comfortable silence as we walked slowly, in the general direction. I looked around, there were few hailing cabs, already having had too much to drink, a stray couple or two making out against the wall, a queue was beginning to form for kebab and cheesy chips, the grease adding to the taste that only a fuzzy, inebriated mind can appreciate. It was all pretty standard.

I turned towards Dan, and he returned my gaze with a smile. My heart skipped a beat. I shifted our hands such that our fingers were now intertwined. It felt so right, I blurted - "If you don't like me, why do you do this?" I didn't let go of his hand, I loved this, as we walked slowly at a romantic odd hour of night, way past midnight.

"What do I do?" He said. We've had this conversation before.

"Why do you hold my hand? Do friends hold hands?" I said. A few moments of unsolicited silence passed by. "It feels natural, doesn't it? Such that you don't even question why you do it." It was not a question, it was a statement. I knew I was right, he did not prove me wrong.

"I never said I don't like you," he said.

"You said you do not like me back." It was pretty straightforward. I had poured my heart out to him, he had said I was kind, thoughtful and loving and an invaluable friend to him. It was friend-zone at the highest level, even if done with compassion.

More silence. It seemed as if neither of us wanted to ruin the moment by poking at logic. I could always blame the alcohol later as to why I let this boy mess with my mind and possibly even my heart. We were not very drunk, it was just enough to loosen up, enough to leave behind the socially defined set of what is appropriate between friends, enough to later blame the undeniable chemistry on the alcohol-frazzled brain, and not have to talk about what is on our sub-conscious minds or, rather, suppressed in the conscious state. It was clear, I was in love with him, even if never expressed in those radical words, and he didn't want a relationship. We never talked that perhaps I was not after a title, and perhaps I made him smile too.

"I really like the night time," I said, changing topics. We had stopped walking, and I leaned against the wall, looking up. Still attached to me by the hand, he looked up too, the clouds from the earlier shower had thinned and a bright moon smiled upon us. "It is eerie, thought-provoking and perhaps even romantic."

He smiled at me warmly. "Do you like this?"

"Being with you, here, like this? No place I'd rather be now. Except perhaps sleeping in my bed, in preparation for 9am lecture tomorrow morning." It was an old joke between us that popped up inappropriately in this situation; it was always sleep before the rest of the world, the rules bending only sometimes for each other. "Do you?" I glanced at our intertwined fingers where he was rubbing his thumb against my hand in a comforting, loving way.

He smiled in response. He was always taciturn, I disliked and loved it at the same time.

"I'm a little confused then." I started, reverting to the complex topic before us. "Do you ever ask yourself why this feels so right if you don't like me?"

"I don't want to be in a relationship," he finally said.

"Perhaps I don't either," I said, now looking into his warm brown eyes, appearing darker in the street lights. "But I like this...a lot." I wondered to myself when things had gotten so complicated. He liked keeping things simple, I usually knew what others and I wanted. I pulled him into a hug, and he embraced me back.

"I want this moment to freeze," I whispered honestly into his ear. I felt him tighten his grip around me. I dug my face into his neck, taking in the smell of his skin. Every bit of me was melting in his arms, it was overpowering, unbelievable that he apparently did not like me back.

"I'll tell you what," I started, pulling back slightly from the hug. "Tell me when to stop."

I placed his hand from my back to my waist, my hands were around his neck. I leaned in till our noses were touching, and we stood there looking into each others' eyes. "You know why I like you? You make everything seem fine, you make the demons of reality go away." I could feel the impact of those words, as one of his hands came up to cup my face. It was the perfect moment to kiss, yet he had never said he liked me. He had never been kissed, I wanted him to kiss me, I wished he wanted to kiss me.

"Alisha..." He said, my name sounding so much sweeter as it fell through his lips. He stroked by face with the back of his finger.

As if waiting for the right, the most inappropriate, moment, his phone burst into song. The moment was ruined, we let go of each other as he answered the call. Our friends were leaving the night club, it was time for us to go back too, to reality where other people exist and we are merely friends. We walked back to the taxi stand to find our friends, walking two feet apart as if nothing had happened at all.

The scene flashed into my head recently. Thanks for reading - please leave me a review! :) I am wondering if to turn it into a full blown story, let me know what you think! xx