One day we left work together. I had my bike, and he was walking to the bus. He was trying new combinations of public transportation to get home. I was walking him to his stop.

We were chatting about nothing at all, with Dave throwing in his usual flirts. “You’re a hottie,” he’d say to me, with no pressure at all on either side.

Somehow I knew that a window was closing. Sure, Dave had everything I wanted in a man, but we were becoming too familiar. We were becoming just friends. If I didn’t do something, I’d never know.