The ploy
The soft hum of a vinyl record played in the background as you sat cross-legged on the couch, watching your best friend
fumble with an old coffee machine in the kitchen. His small apartment was cozy, filled with books, records, and little trinkets that felt like pieces of him. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly charming he was, even in his simple black T-shirt and sweats.
“So, coffee or tea?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder with that familiar smile.
“Coffee,” you replied, leaning back. “But only if you don’t burn the place down.”
He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling. “Have some faith in me.”
He brought over two steaming mugs, settling beside you on the couch. You took a sip, surprised by how good it was. “Okay, I admit it. You’re better than I thought.”
He grinned. “Told you.”
The quiet between you both felt comfortable, but something about the evening had changed. His knee brushed against yours, and for a brief moment, it seemed like everything around you faded away. You glanced at him, catching his gaze for just a second longer than usual.
“You good?” he asked, his voice quieter than before.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, feeling a warmth spread across your face. “I just… I don’t think I say it enough, but I really appreciate you.”
He smiled softly, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his eyes holding yours.
The silence between you grew heavier, charged with something unspoken, and for a moment, it felt like the air itself was waiting—waiting for one of you to make a move, to change the rhythm of the night.
he cleared his throat, breaking the tension, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “It’s funny,” he said casually, “how one moment can shift everything.”
You didn’t know whether he meant this moment—or something deeper—but either way, you could feel the change, the shift in the air. And just like that, you realized: this wasn’t just friendship anymore.