We never officially dated.
Not really, anyway. Sure, we went on a handful of cute dates over the course of a month. Sure, I remember the unadulterated joy I’d felt every morning when I woke up to a text from you. And sure I remember the electricity I’d felt when you put your hand around my waist and leaned in to whisper something in my ear when we went dancing on our third date (I still didn’t hear what you said, but I smiled and nodded anyway).
But we never officially dated. Because after that handful of dates, you pulled away. I was okay with it — he’ll come back, I figured. He just needs space. We had perhaps been texting too much — always initiated by you, I might add — and I could do with some space myself. But after over a week of barely hearing from you and waiting up…
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