Jamie was always close just never enough. He kissed you like it meant something, but never said a word to make it feel real. His lips would linger, soft and warm, then pull away a breath too soon. With Jamie, everything felt quiet. Like a moment you were never meant to keep.

Curled against him, lost in the folds of his oversized sweater, you felt safe but unsure. One cold night, you sat close on his couch, legs tangled, his sweater draped over both of you. The silence between you felt heavy, almost sacred. You glanced at him, maybe too long. He noticed. Smiled faintly, a little distant. “What are you thinking?” You paused. Thinking about how he always left before anything could become real. How it felt like you were always standing on a line he’d never step over. But you said it anyway. He didn’t say much, just shifted slightly. Eyes softening, almost. “Does it really matter?” He always said things like that, like wanting more was a mistake. Like closeness wasn’t real. You didn’t argue. Just leaned in, kissed him like it might hold him there. Like maybe this time, he wouldn’t leave.