We’ve been dating for a while but I’m not in love. I won’t be, beyond friendship or admiration, but still, when I show up at your house today, there’s a bouquet of flowers held in my hands.

A confused look on fills your face when you see the flowers, and I know why. You’ve known from the beginning I won’t fall in love, can’t feel the romance you do, but still, my hands smell of the tulips I bought for you. What is this if it isn’t romance? What is this if it isn’t love?

But it is love. Not the crash-landing into your arms kind, not the speeding heartbeat or butterflies dancing their way through my stomach, more a closeness and comfort and true, deep friendship. It is love, a solid closeness that’s only made stronger by the force of attraction and the nights we’ve shared together. It’s love, but it isn’t romance.

It’s me searching for your smile.

I know classes have been eating your time, and work tearing at your soul, and I care about you in the kind of way that seeing your smile brings my own, especially when I’ve found the way to help it roll its joyous way across your face. I don’t bring these flowers because the candlelit dinners soothe my soul, and the gestures don’t bring me nearly as much comfort. I do this for you.

And at last, that beautiful smile rolls across your face, and I know you understand.