You sat at a table with your friend, sipping your drink and trying to focus on the laughter bubbling out of her. She always seemed to attract attention wherever she went—effortlessly gorgeous, with her slim frame and radiant smile.

You, on the other hand, felt invisible. You fidgeted with your drink, tugging at your shirt to make sure it hid the curves you had learned to despise.

Then, you noticed him. A young man, handsome, leaning against the bar. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you.

“Do you know him?” your friend whispered, nudging you with her elbow.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “He’s probably looking at you.”

But he wasn’t. When he finally approached, his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Mind if I join you?”

Your friend beamed, but he didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were on you.

The three of you chatted for a while, but it became clear who he was interested in. Simon directed his questions to you, laughed at your jokes, and leaned in just enough to make your pulse race. Your friend eventually excused herself to talk to someone at the bar, leaving you alone with him.

As the night calmed down, Simon walked you to the exit, his hands casually in his pockets. “I enjoyed talking to you tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled awkwardly, your stomach twisting with doubt. There was no way someone like him could actually like you, not when he could have someone like your friend. “I… uh… if you’re interested, I could give you my friend’s number,” you blurted out, avoiding his gaze.

Simon frowned, his expression darkening. “Why would I want her number?”

Your face burned. “Well, she’s... beautiful," skinny, "and clearly interested.”

Simon stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he tilted your chin up gently with his fingers. “Let me make something very clear,” he said, his voice firm but warm. “I’m not interested in your friend. I’m interested in you.”