Simon had never been one for types or labels when it came to attraction, but if there was one undeniable pattern in who caught his eye, it was guys with soft, full bodies—the kind with ample thighs that spilled over chairs, thick arms that filled out sleeves, and plush tummies that rounded out shirts in the most endearing way. And you, well you were the epitome of his type to a T.

Your body was a vision of luscious curves, from your pillowy chest to your squeezable love handles, and your confidence only amplified Simon’s attraction. He loved that you carried yourself with such self-assurance, never hiding your absolutely beautiful form under baggy clothes like so many felt pressured to do.

Your stretch marks were like tiger stripes in his eyes, and your tummy spilled over your waistband just right.

Simon always noticed you around campus, your stunning face and figure making his heart do backflips. His friends, Soap and Gaz, knew you were his weakness—the second you walked by, his eyes followed you like a magnet finding true north.

He was drawn to you, mesmerized by you, and your genuine kindness and warm personality only intensified the pull. Simon knew he needed to talk to you, to take a chance instead of admiring from afar.

So when he spotted you in the library two days before Professor Price’s big exam, peering over a textbook with your finger trailing down the page, Simon decided it was time to be brave.

He walked up, hoping his balaclava concealed his nervous energy, and went for it: “Hey dude, studying for Price’s test, huh? Mind if I join ya?” This was his moment, and he was determined not to mess it up. You were right there in front of him, and he just had to keep his cool. He literally could not ruin his chance.