Page 36 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

He leaned into my hand for a second.

But I remember it.

The trust in it.

The safety.

The way he looked at me afterward—like I was the calm place he ran to when the world became too loud.

Because before I became the person he couldn’t forgive, I had once been the person who made him feel safe.

Then the drag bar again.

The music vibrating through the floor.

Lights flashing.

Everything felt alive and electric, with the queens performing.

People cheered and screamed.

And in the middle of it all was us.

He sat across from me—close enough to touch, far enough to look.

I was laughing at something on stage, but when I turned to him… he was already looking at me.

Not casually. Not distracted.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the music, but in his eyes, everything paused. The crowd disappeared. The music faded away.

The world thinned out until it was just us.

Everything blurred into motion—but he remained clear. Sharp. Still. Like time had decided to hesitate. Just for us.

I didn’t smile.

I couldn’t.

I just looked at him with a certainty that held only one truth: he was the one.

For many years I searched for the man I would spend my life with. And… this was it.

My heartbeat slowed and sped up at the same time, like my body didn’t know whether to stay or run. Like it understood something my mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

The moment felt too fragile for anything that might break it.

And he didn’t look away.

God, he didn’t look away.

There was longing in his gaze—quiet, but unmistakable. The kind that doesn’t ask anything, doesn’t promise anything, but still says too much. The kind that wanted to drag me away from the place, go out into the night, and finally start a future.

A life.

Together.

And just like that, I fell in love with him.