You sat at a table with your friend, sipping your drink and trying to focus on the laughter bubbling out of them. He always seemed to attract attention wherever he went—effortlessly handsome, with his muscular frame and charming smile.

You, on the other hand, felt invisible. You tugged at your shirt to make sure it hid the curves and belly you had learned to despise. As a man, it was hard for you to have some fat instead of muscles everyone expects.

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 his elbow.

“No,” you said, 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 seemed excited, but the man didn’t even glance at him. His eyes were on you.

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

As the night calmed down, Simon walked you to the exit to share a smoke, 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. “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 his number?”

Your face burned. “Well, he's... handsome," muscular, perfect, "and clearly interested.”

Simon stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you l. “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.”