That Next Step

There’s a lot of great places to confess; for example, in the park, when you’re both hanging out and maybe having a picnic; or after watching a movie and using the momentum to let them know what you felt about them.

Another idea is to confess in a ferris wheel ride where they have to either say yes and the rest of the ride will be you two staring lovingly at each other, or say no and spend an awkward fifteen minutes together until the ride ends. That’s what I did; my best friend and I rode the ferris wheel, and I confessed when we were halfway up.

This would have been great nearly half a year ago. We had karaoke after work to relieve some stress, and I still remember the jarring light of the screen, the tacky lighting, and her holding the mic as she sang Billy Joel’s The Longest Time and Heaven by Bryan Adams. I remember locking eyes with her, and thinking how great it would be if only I could spend the rest of my life listening to her voice.

Oh, how only once in your life can you find someone who will turn your world around.

I hadn’t known, but she had romantic feelings for me. However, she cherished our friendship more so she never took the step forward. I also never took that step, and I was never clear if I ever would.

It was simply unfortunate timing when I confessed. We weren’t dating, so it wasn’t wrong to date other people; that’s just normal. That day just happened to be the day after she agreed to be exclusive with someone.

I hadn’t known then but if I did, I wouldn’t have gone through with my confession. We could have enjoyed a ferris wheel ride overlooking the city, under the orange glow of the setting sun. We’d get dinner, she’d tell me about her week, and how she had finally found someone decent she could actually date. I’d smile, be happy for her—and I am genuinely happy she found someone—then I’d pay for the meal to celebrate. Then I’d happily drop her off at her place, and I’d go home feeling heavy that I had lost my chance.

But at least then, we’d still have the same friendship we have.

“Do you remember when we talked about how best friends dating each other is risky?,” I started nervously. This was from a conversation almost a year ago, and it felt to me like the perfect jumping point.

“Yeah,” she replied confused. She hadn’t known where I was going with the question. “I remember we said it could be the best thing because it’s your best friend! You already know each other so it’s just perfect to enter a relationship with each other.”

I smiled. That would be the dream, I thought.

“But also, finding your significant other should also be the best thing so getting together with a best friend isn’t that special,” I continued despite the bittersweet smile I had in my head. That’s not the point I wanted to make.

“Exactly! And then, we said it’s also risky because what happens if you don’t work out together? Being friends and being in a relationship are different. Then, you’d lose your best friend,” she continued, reminiscing about our conversation.

“And we asked if it was worth it?” I followed, looking into her eyes with some hints of anxiety in mine. How would this end for me?

“And I think we are.” I pushed through the anxiety and began before she could speak, “I like you. I want to live my life listening to your voice right beside me. I feel foolish that I never took the step forward before, but I am now. Will you please give me this chance?”

Stunned, she just peered back into my eyes. I was anxious, but looking back at her calmed me down. She makes me smile and at that time, I was glad I took that step. That is, until I saw a glimpse of sorrow in her eyes, and she smiled sadly.

“I’m already dating someone. I’m sorry,” she began. “I did like you before, but for me, that’s already the past. I had my reasons for not taking the step too; I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

She had tears forming in her eyes. I knew it hurt her as much as it hurt me.

“I knew we could have worked out, but I still preferred being your friend more,” she continued, “I’m really sorry.”

We sat there silent until the carriage reached its peak. I didn’t know what to say, and she was looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I imagined the scene after my confession to be glazed with the orange of the setting sun, filled with warmth from a mutual affection. Instead, it was the violet shroud as the sun the goes lower, the creeping dark that engulfs the light.

I couldn’t take it—anything but making her sad.

“That’s okay.” A response that is clearly otherwise. “You’re right. I also don’t want to lose you as a friend. You’re important to me. You know that, right? I’d really rather not lose you instead,” I continued, attempting to reassure her. “I’m fine. I just wanted to take the chance. What’s important is we stay the same.”

She nodded, still with tears in her eyes. I could see her trying her best to hold them in. It broke my heart more that I made her cry, more so than when I found she was dating someone already.

It had felt so right but I could be wrong. Maybe I had been hoping too hard.

As the carriage went down, we gradually resolved the awkwardness. In the end, she wiped her eyes, and smiled. “It’s getting late. Let’s get dinner and go home, okay?,” she said, wanting to set the matter aside.

“Yes, let’s go.” I couldn’t say anything else.

As she got off before me, I could only look at her back, going elsewhere but here.