There was a moment in my kitchen, where I could have turned back. I could have pulled out the living room sofa bed and thrown him a fleece blanket and a pillow or two and retreated to my post-midnight Scrubs on YouTube.
I sensed this moment as soon as I experienced it. If I drew a line now, I thought, maybe it wouldn't hurt quite so bad when this fake-relationship fell apart.
But there was something about the way he smiled over his soup. Something soft and kind in his eyes. Something that made me curious about him. I wanted to know as much about him while I still had the opportunity. So when he pulled me to him for that first make-out-style kiss, I let him. I knew it'd mess with my brain chemistry. I knew I'd regret it whenever the haze of him cleared. And yet, I didn't fight it. I couldn't fight it.
I fell headlong into him.
***
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