I wanted a thing that was a lil fucked up but also sweet. I was watching The Office when I tried writing this and I wanted a relationship like Jim and Pam kinda? Didn't get far. I'm not good at writing romantic relationships and that's where this went downhill. Maybe I'll get better at it once I'm in a relationship. This is literally from like 2017 so don't attack me this is absolutely terrible and short.

Also read the anchor I just finished it thank u

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Pause.

His hand was inches away from mine.

He wasn't looking out the window, but he still had one hand positioned at twelve o'clock on the steering wheel.

There was a dusty blue pickup truck a little ways down the road. It was close around the corner; close enough I could've gotten out and tossed a pebble at it if I wanted to.

The one in the truck, he was drunk. I could see clearly from the passenger seat, he had a bottle of jack in one hand hanging out the window, his eyes were half shut, his hair was an absolute mess. Worse than my bedhead after a long night out that needed scoops of gel to keep it in place.

Neither of us were even close to drunk. It was only five. We hadn't even had dinner yet. We hadn't been home since seven that morning.

He wouldn't have had time to swerve, and even if he had, he'd slam the car headfirst into the streetlight. He hated driving, it always scared him to sit in the driver's seat and go. If the next moment played out wrongly, he'd never have to again, either.

I could get out, turn the drunk guy's wheel to the right so he'd crash into the brick wall and only become a hazard to himself. That could impact someone else though, someone else with much more than I would ever have, maybe someone with much less than I that couldn't ever afford any medical treatment let alone the cost of a funeral if worst came to worst.

I couldn't push the both of us out of the car. Because then that would look suspicious to any bystanders, and I'd get busted and sent away. Then he'd be disappointed, because we had the talk about the unfair abuse of power and it's toll on others, and that sometimes life just had to happen whether it was good or bad. He said I couldn't pause it whenever I didn't want to face something, or if I had the opportunity to save everything at risk. It was wrong, he'd told me, to deprive some people from the things they need most, even if it was the worst thing to ever happen.

But he said it was okay to pause and savor the moment. He said he wished he could.

It had to happen. It couldn't not happen. Everything happened for a reason, this was one of those things. I met him in the office, we coincidentally lived down the hall from each other, we drove the same route to work, and we went to the same Chinese takeout place every Thursday night. That was six years ago. Six years ago. Nothing outstandingly horrible had ever happened before, not even prior to those years.

I guess it would just be one of those rotten things.

I'd rested one hand in his palm and used the other to close his fingers around mine. I touched his hair one last time, and I fixed his shirt collar. I took a picture in my mind of his smile and the shade of blue in his eyes.

And I pressed play.

Two weeks earlier

We were in the middle of a party. The night had barely even started, it was maybe eight o'clock. I wanted to go home more than I had ever wanted anything in the world, because there were too many people, and I felt sick again. Dallon was having fun though, and I didn't want to pull him away from everyone. I always worried myself too much wondering if he hated me after I insisted on going home in the middle of an event. He never did, but that wasn't the point.

It was Tyler's birthday, or something important like that. He'd strung old Christmas lights throughout the house and dimmed the crystal chandeliers in each room, and the whole interior was bathed in baby blue and soft white. He was basically rich, in all honesty. He was, like, the CEO of our cruddy pencil shipping company. It was lame, but it paid decently.

"So, uh, did you have a good day?" Pete nudged my arm with his cup. He was always checking up on me, which was nice, but very tedious. If he even thought I wasn't having a good time, he'd pull me aside and make sure everything was fine. It was nice, but when I just wanted to not talk, it was a little pressing.

I nodded. "It was okay. What about you?"

He sat down beside me instead of giving a quick shot and leaving for someone more interesting. I liked Pete a lot. "Well, someone stole my tuna sandwich, and then when I tried to find it, I found out one of my coworkers has a cat living in a storage cabinet. And after that, two other people had an arm wresting contest in the conference room. So, today was pretty interesting."

He'd read a book called "The Science of Likability" a while back. One of the main concepts in the book was expanding on aspects of yourself to avoid judgement for certain actions. He just picked up the habit, simple as that. It was great whenever I was too tired to hold a conversation. "That's fun. What're you going to do with the cat?"

Pete shrugged. "I dunno yet. I think we should keep it and appoint it as the branch's mascot. Maybe that would boost productivity." He always had issues with employees doing their work when they were supposed to. As a regional manager, he took his job very seriously, and the constant need to be liked only tore him apart trying to decide to make friends, or be the controlling boss he needed to be.

"I think you need to establish that you are the manager and hold power over them, but affirm that you're the same as they are and that you all have a common goal."

"And what would that be?"

"To get paid." I said. Pete took a moment to register, but as soon as he did, he smiled and took a sip of his drink to avoid snorting from laughter like always.

He eased up off the couch and patted my shoulder. "You're right, you're right. I'll try that out and I'll let you know how it goes. But for now, have a good night, dude. Go home. Get some sleep. You look exhausted." A few seconds after, he bumped into someone else and immediately started up another conversation.

Pause.

The music blaring through the house fell silent, all movement stopped, the drink tipping over the countertop had suspended itself in midair.

It was just something I could do. As I grew older, I found myself freezing time so I could take a breather from anything and everything. Life was overwhelming, as was socialization and constructing relationships, and I was never really ashamed to admit it was tough. Dallon understood; it was one of the reasons we clicked.

I just needed a minute. I wanted to go home and never leave my bed, but I couldn't do that. I had things to do, we had things to do. Responsibilities weren't things you could just wave off over your shoulder. I can't keep time on pause forever.

I took a deep breath and pressed play. The plastic cup crashed to the floor, the drink inside coating the tiles in gross stickiness. I could've stopped it, but I hadn't.

From across the room, I watched Dallon freeze mid-smile and slowly turn to look at me. He pointed to the backyard door and shook his head. I hated that he could tell whenever I paused. He never noticed it before I told him, but he also said he swore he was losing his grip on his sanity.

I waited for him outside for less than a minute. He came out quietly and eased the door shut, without a cup in his hand.

"What happened?"

I shrugged. "Just wanted to savor the moment."

He sighed and kicked open the cooler against the door. It was freezing out, so nobody else dared venture into the yard. He dug through the ice and tossed a can of soda between his hands. "I'm all for savoring the moment when you actually like the moment. You hate parties, especially ones at other houses. I know they freak you out. You can't hide from me."

He got me there. He knew me too well. "It was loud. I wanted some quiet for a minute."

"We don't know the consequences of doing that so many times, you can't just do that whenever you feel like it."

Pause.

Just to bother him.

When time resumed, he shook his head and sighed. "I hope time freezes forever just before the big plot twist is revealed during your favorite movie."

"Don't say that, you know you love me." I said. A grin spread across his face and he smiled down at his feet, hands in the pockets of his work pants.

"Let's go home." He said softly. I followed behind him on the way out as he said goodbyes and wished Tyler a happy birthday again. I tried to savor the calmer moment without having to pause, but I forgot most of it by the time our car was pulling up into the driveway.

The engine ticked in the quiet night, the headlights illuminated the flaky brown paint of the garage door. We sat in silence in the car, but it was the good silence that you don't mind.

"Love you. I'm glad I met you." Dallon whispered in the darkness. His hand slid from the gear stick to mine, squeezing once before he let go and clambered out of the driver's seat.