Things with Will continued to go really well.
By the time our second date rolled around, we were both genuinely looking forward to seeing each other again. We even made plans for a sleepover—on a Monday, of all days. It wasn’t exactly typical, but because he worked most weekends, we had to be intentional about finding time together.
I didn’t mind one bit.
Since I lived closer to both of our jobs, it made more sense to spend time at my apartment than at his. Before the date, we had spent days teasing each other about who would win at mini golf, so we finally decided to settle the debate.
For the record, I won.
I may or may not have reminded him of that a few times on the drive back to my apartment.
The rest of the evening was just as easy. We watched Top Gun, talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. The chemistry between us felt natural, and there was never any pressure to force a moment or manufacture a connection.
By the next morning, it was back to reality.
Will got up early, showered, and headed to work while I logged on from home. He admitted he was more tired than he expected because he almost never stayed somewhere else the night before work. His job required him to be fully present, and keeping a consistent routine was important to him.
The fact that he had made an exception to spend time with me wasn’t lost on me.
Over the next several weeks, we settled into a rhythm that fit naturally into our busy lives.
Will’s schedule was packed. Between long shifts at work and coaching a local team, most of his evenings occupied elsewhere. Thankfully, it was only a temporary season, and we both knew things would eventually calm down.
Usually once a week, he’d stop by my apartment after practice.
Since I was already cooking dinner for myself, I’d make enough for both of us and inevitably end up packing leftovers for him to take home. Truthfully, I never seemed capable of cooking for just one person anyway.
We’d eat, put on a movie or a show, catch up on our weeks, and spend a few quiet hours together before he headed home around 10 PM.
There was nothing particularly extravagant about those nights.
No elaborate dates.
No grand gestures.
Just two people making time for each other in the middle of busy lives.
And somehow, that made them even more meaningful.
At the same time, I sensed there were parts of Will he wasn’t quite ready to share. From the little he had told me about his parents’ divorce and the responsibilities he had carried afterward, I got the feeling that some old wounds still lingered beneath the surface.
Rather than push for answers, I decided to let things unfold naturally.
I had learned enough by this point to know that trust couldn’t be rushed.
So I stopped worrying about where things were headed and focused instead on enjoying where we were.
One dinner.
One movie.
One day at a time.
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