The combination is pretty intimidating.
If he were an arrogant man, he would be insufferable. Without a sense of humor, he’d be stodgy and dull. But he’s not arrogant. And heisfunny. And if all of that wasn’t dangerous enough, he is also kind.
No, notkind, precisely.
He’s aware. He makes me feel seen.
But here’s the crux of the problem: I came into this weekend with a crush. Here I am, barely twenty-four hours later, and I find my crush morphing into something much more dangerous.
It’s Miller’s quiet acceptance of last night’s outrageous behavior that does it.
What kind of man would be so kind about my behavior last night? About my Raquel-inspired spiral and my overindulgence. About my clumsy attempt to seduce him.
Was it even a seduction attempt, or did I declare my costume-related fantasies?
Most men—maybe any other man—would be running for the hills right now.
But no, not Miller.
Kind, thoughtful, attentive Miller quietly seeded my hotel room with glasses of water, found my missing dragon, and brought me coffee.
And the playlist?
Oh, man. That playlist gutted me.
A playful and fun collection of the songs I danced to last night, layered in with some other thoughtful choices. Songs full of pining and hope. Songs about transitions and change. It was so perfectly what I needed this morning.
And that’s the thing about Miller and his quiet ability to give me exactly what I need. To anticipate it and deliver it.
As though it’s his full-time job.
No one else in my life—not my parents, not my older brother Max, certainly not any other friend I’ve ever had—has ever seen me with as much clarity as he does. No one has ever seen me at my worst and still wanted to be there.
Until Miller.
His behavior makes me yearn for so much more. And makes me terrified of losing him.
How can I possibly risk losing that kind of friendship?
For the first time in my life, I want guide rails. I want boundaries. I want the safety of knowing exactly how this will play out.
By the time we pull up outside my building, I have a speech prepared.
It’s a good speech. Measured. Reasonable. Adult.
I’ve accounted for every variable.
I’m ready.
Inviting him upstairs feels different this time.
Last night it was an impulse. Courage borrowed from tequila and bad decision-making.
Now it feels… inevitable. Terrifying, but necessary.
I unlock the door to my apartment and step inside.
Miller steps in behind me, quiet as always, taking in the space without comment. He sets my bags down near the door with that same careful efficiency he brings to everything, like even luggage deserves to be handled with intention.
