It wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Not with him.

Simon Riley, the kid who always sat in the back of the class, arms crossed and headphones buried so deep in his ears no one dared talk to him. He was cold, sharp-edged, with a look in his eyes like he’d already seen more than a teenager should. People didn’t talk to Simon. They whispered about him.

And yet… here you were.

Sitting next to him on his bedroom floor, knees brushing, a quiet song playing off his beat-up speaker. His hoodie hung off your shoulders — his smell, his warmth, his everything — wrapped around you like a secret.

You’d kissed him like two minutes ago. Your first kiss.

Your heart still hadn’t slowed down.

⸻

You weren’t outed yet. Not really. Not to your parents. Not to your friends. You barely knew what the hell you were doing yourself. Just trying to survive the noise in your head and the confusion that came with it — all the wondering, the what-ifs, the self-doubt.

And Simon… he was different.

He never asked you to explain. Never rushed you. He let you sit in silence when you didn’t have the words, let you stumble through your feelings like a kid learning how to walk. And when you finally told him, voice shaking, unable to meet his eyes, that you liked him, he didn’t make a big deal out of it.

He just smiled.

“I was starting to think you’d never say it.”

⸻

Now you were sitting in that quiet space with him again, staring at your hands like they might do something brave on their own.

He reached out, gently tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie where it swallowed your wrist. “You good?”

You nodded, but your voice was a mess when you answered. “I’ve never done this before.”

Simon’s expression softened immediately.

“Hey,” he said. “I know.”

He moved closer, not pushing, just there, and brushed a strand of hair from your forehead with practiced ease. His hand lingered on your cheek. It was warm. You leaned into it like it was instinct.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whispered. “Like… at all.”

“I know,” he repeated, even softer now. “And it’s okay.”

You looked up at him. “Were you scared too?” you asked.

Simon was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. My first time? Terrified.”

You blinked. “But you’re so-”

“Confident?” he cut in, smirking. “That’s not real. It’s just something I fake better now. Comes with the experience and giving a fuck about opinions,” he winks.