You’d known Telemachus for as long as you could remember—your parents were best friends, after all. In elementary school, the two of you barely noticed each other. Different friends, different interests. Maybe, you thought, you just weren’t meant to get along.

Middle school changed that. Suddenly, you had more classes together, and your parents’ frequent get-togethers always brought you both along. Afternoons meant hours in each other’s rooms—him teaching you guitar, you teaching him how to draw. Before long, hanging out became second nature, whether after school or sometimes even during it, if his friends weren’t around.

By the time high school rolled around, things felt different. Sophomore year, you mentioned casually that you were starting to feel comfortable with the idea of dating. Telemachus’s cheeks flushed red. You told yourself it was probably just the winter wind, nothing more. Luckily, the bus arrived before the moment got awkward. Still, when he noticed you shivering, he slipped his letterman jacket around your shoulders before waving and hopping on the bus.

You just blinked.

The next morning, he showed up to walk you to school. In his hands was your favorite flower, which he carefully tucked behind your ear. You handed his jacket back—freshly cleaned and steamed. Silence lingered between you until he finally spoke, voice low, gaze fixed on the sidewalk.

“Are you… still comfortable with dating?” he asked, sheepish and red-faced.

You stopped. He stopped, too. Your eyes met, and without thinking, you smirked and kissed his cheek. Then you kept walking. He froze in place, face burning, before breaking into a grin and jogging after you.

That was the day you and Telemachus began dating.

By junior year, you were still inseparable. So when he didn’t show up at school one morning, you assumed he was skipping a test—or maybe just sick. But in the middle of class, the office called your name. You groaned, gathered your bag, and trudged down the hall, running through a list of possible reasons.

Then you saw him. Telemachus. Waiting in the office. Wearing a suit—your favorite color, of course. When his eyes met yours, he grinned and held out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Ready for our date?” he asked, smug and glowing.

All you could do was stare. A date. In the middle of the school day. Heat crept up your cheeks as the realization sank in.

You blinked.