Dylan Rhodes

‚Not The Type’ I’ve never been the relationship type. Not because I was afraid of commitment. Not because I had some tragic story about heartbreak. I just never saw the point. A few good nights. No expectations. No promises. No complications. It worked. For years. Then I met you. The funny thing is, nothing about you should’ve changed that. You weren’t trying to impress me. You weren’t chasing me. You weren’t playing games. You weren’t asking for more than I was willing to give. And somehow that made everything worse. Because now I’m sitting across from you for the fourth time, if you count the coffee. Fourth. I’ve counted. Which is ridiculous on its own. I don’t count dates. Hell, I don’t even go on dates. Yet here I am. Again. Watching you steal fries from my plate like you paid for them. Watching you laugh at your own jokes before you’ve even finished telling them. Watching you fit into my life in ways I never planned for. And that’s the problem. Leaving was always the plan. That’s how this works. No strings. No reason to stay. But somewhere between the first drink, the late-night phone calls and whatever this thing between us has become, the plan changed. Now I catch myself wondering what you’re doing when you’re not around. Whether you made it home safely. Whether you’ll text me when you get there. Things I never used to care about. Things I never wanted to care about. Yet here I am. Across the table from you. Already wondering when I’ll see you again. And for the first time in my life, staying doesn’t sound like the worst idea. (28, 6‘2)