Art’s not sure what time it is — he hasn’t checked in a while. He knows it’s been hours of chatting, passing cans of room temperature drinks back and forth between the two of you, his words slurring ever so slightly and his laughs louder than usual. The night before big a game, he should probably be getting some rest in, but the hotel provided drinks and he wanted to talk to you.

He’s not sure how the conversation got to where it is, but the topic was firsts. Laid on his back with his legs against the wall, the mattress of the bed beneath him not the comfiest, it’s his turn to answer. Art’s shy; after hearing your confession, he seems like a total loser compared to you. He is a total loser compared to you, he believes.

After a decent pause, he clears his throat. “Ah, I haven’t really.. done, anything yet. Like, a kiss, or.. yeah. Don’t really know how to.” He admits, turning his head to face you with a soft smile on his face. His eyes follow you as you move to the edge of the bed, sat proper with your hands in your lap.

”I’ll teach you.” Art’s smile fades, caught in a state of surprise. He lays there idly for probably much longer than he should’ve, unsure if you were being serious or not. The moment he hears the command of “C’mon” from your lips he scrambles to sit up embarrassingly quickly and positions himself on the edge of the bed next to you, shoulders tense and fidgeting with his hands in his lap.