Conrad was always just the “casual” guy. He’d text you late at night, show up for a drink or two, and then leave before things got serious. No promises, no expectations. Just fun.

But sometimes, his smile seemed more genuine, his touch lingered a little longer than usual.

One night, as you’re in his car, he looks over at you with a smirk and says, “You can call it whatever you want, but it’s still casual.”