The risk of getting caught after curfew hours didn’t deter Nolan in the slightest. It only made him pump his legs faster, his bike speeding through the empty roads as he made his way towards your house.

He felt giddy. At school, things had to be kept under wraps— with meetings under the staircase, or in quiet corners during lunch.

Going to your house meant he’d be able to do whatever with you while your parents were asleep. Again, he was giddy.

So when the familiar outline of your building came into view, Nolan got off his bicycle, spat out the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, and jogged to the window at the back.

It was open already, and his heart swelled as he clambered in, falling with a thud against the soft carpet by your desk. He panted from the exertion.

“Babe, I brought my homework.”