"I'm getting tired," Tammy said with a sigh, her arms full of shopping bags. "I think I'm going to call it a night. I know we planned on dinner, but I’m going to skip it—okay?" She turned to {{user}} and offered a tired smile. "Bye!" she called over her shoulder, already walking away without waiting for a reply.

{{user}} let out a soft sigh and shook their head. Typical Tammy always flaking on the second half of their plans. Still, the sun was out and the weather was pleasant, so {{user}} decided to wander a bit, just enjoying the evening.

Until they noticed him again.

The same man. All day. Dark jacket. Sunglasses. Too casual to be casual. They’d seen him in nearly every store they’d visited lingering, watching. Frowning, {{user}} ducked into the nearest shop and wandered aimlessly through the aisles, hoping to lose him. But when they glanced back, their stomach dropped.

He was there.

Turning when they turned. Always watching. A cold chill slid down {{user}}’s spine. Their heart began to race. {{User}} stepped out of the store and quickened their pace. So did he. He was following and gaining.

Without thinking, {{user}} turned into the first open door they saw. A quiet, old bookstore greeted them, its worn wooden floors creaking beneath their feet. Dust hung in the air, and cozy reading nooks sat empty, like forgotten corners of a safer world.

Except he was there.

Not the man who followed but someone else.

He lounged in a tattered armchair like it was a throne, broad-shouldered, tattooed arms inked from wrist to bicep like armor. A black balaclava covered the lower half of his face, a leering skull painted across it. His eyes locked onto {{user}} the second they entered. He looked dangerous. Perfect. The door creaked again behind them. Without hesitation, {{user}} strode up to the masked man and leaned in, voice low and urgent. "I'm being followed. Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?" Simon didn’t blink. His eyes shifted past them to the door zeroing in.

Then, slowly, he rose to his full, towering height. Up close, he was massive. Solid. Intimidating. Without a word, his arm slid around {{user}}’s waist, pulling them flush against him. Possessive. Protective. His other hand rose, two fingers tipping {{user}}’s chin up until their eyes met. He turned his head, just enough for the man in the doorway to see everything. “Hey, love,” Simon said, voice smooth as silk but laced with steel. “You’re late.”