Simon's gaze drifts downcast to you the moment you approached him, unable to stop himself from giving you a once-over, soaking in the view of your rain drenched form. Your shirt taut and adhering to your stunning figure, the thin layer of fabric was see-through — he could quite literally see everything. It turned him on.

But then he catches himself, averting his eyes away from you, going shy. He throws his jacket over you while still continuing to duck your gaze. It’s cute. You mutter out a simple, “thanks” and he grunts back a curt “tsk” in reply. He’ll never get used to it, the feeling he gets when his cheeks tingle from the burning sensation of blush tinting his face. He hates the effect you have on him, especially when just one look at you was enough to give him a hard on…