No more movies in the dark alone.

Shit fire and save the matches.

You know how smug I was about me and Mike being the textbook example of how a man and a woman can in fact be close platonic friends, if ones that pretend sexual tension doesn’t exist? Trust me. I was smug about that and how deeply we love each other as friends.
Well. I was smug until tonight, when our ignored spark started burning.
We met up to watch the 9pm free student union movie like we have 5,000 other Thursday nights. We joked around and ate and talked like we have since forever.
I gave him a noogie and asked if that made him uncomfortable; he said just don’t do anything obviously sexual (which immediately made me think of starting a strip tease in the middle of the student union). Okay, so: boundary noted.
When we sat down in the theater before the movie and I stretched, he touched my bellybutton exposed by my sweater hem riding up. That surprised the hell out of me, but…sure, let’s just go with it. Mostly it felt unfair because both his shirts were tightly tucked in.
As the lights go down and we’re still giving each other shit and halfway looking for Cape to walk in after grabbing another ride, we settle into those tiny-ass chairs which make it easier to let our knees touch than not. When the movie starts, Mike puts his arm across my back, and I see if I can get away with resting my head on his shoulder.
I can. He lets me, and oh God it’s such a comfortable rush.
I keep my arm as still as I possibly can resting in between us, fingers on his knee and DO NOT DO THAT THING WHERE YOU STROKE, FINGERS. DON’T. STAY STILL FOR ONCE IN YOUR EAGER LITTLE LIVES.
At one point, he pulls us apart to respond to a text message on his phone. I pull away too and try to figure out what just happened, and then we fall back into place when he’s done and I’m just as romantically comfort-drunk as before.
Then his hand drops to cup my waist. His fingers start MOVING. Mine do, too, curled up against his chest.

*runs screaming from the room*

That’s not what we did. But he did lean over and whisper, “We should leave the movie.” We did, shaking and staring at the floor. With normal people, this would be a husky invitation to one or another’s place to make out or hook up, any regret to be left to the morning.

Since it was me and Mike, we had to have a serious talk about what just happened.
He likes me. He’s attracted to me, he’s felt and catalogued and repressed everything between us exactly like I have for the past year and a half, and this is how it comes out.
Follows is the upshot of the rest of our conversation.
Mike: “If you were a Christian, I’d have tried to start dating you a long time ago.”
Me: “If you didn’t believe in God, I would’ve jumped you already.”
Verdict: “Maybe we shouldn’t go see movies alone in the dark anymore.”
We didn’t solve anything that a little healthy repression wouldn’t’ve taken care of, at least until I get out of school. Five motherfucking weeks; I thought we could make it.

I don’t know whether to be in joyful awe at such strong proof of such a strong mutual attraction, relieved that Mike felt just as deeply and it wasn’t my overactive imagination (which is so very rarely justified on things romantic), or terribly beaten down that I’ve lost my best friend to sex and Jesus.