Silas had never really been the kind of person people gravitated toward.
It wasn’t that anyone disliked him. That would’ve required a stronger reaction than most people ever had to him. He was just…easy to overlook. The kind of person you recognized, maybe, but never really noticed.
Growing up, nothing about him stood out in the ways that seemed to matter.
He did well in school—consistently, quietly well. He’d taken first place at his school’s Mathalon every year, which, in his mind, should’ve meant something.
It didn’t.
No one really cared beyond a passing comment, and conversations never lasted long enough for it to come up twice. Silas could usually feel the exact moment things started to fall apart—the pause that lingered just a second too long, the other person’s attention drifting elsewhere.
His mom said he’d grow out of it.
“Just come out of your shell,” she’d tell him.
Silas never figured out how.
High school passed. Then college. People formed friendships, relationships—entire lives around each other. Silas just moved around the edges of it all, understanding how it worked in theory, but never quite managing it himself.
As an adult, he worked as a senior network engineer at a mid-sized IT company. It wasn’t impressive, but it was stable. Systems made sense. If something broke, there was a reason—and usually, a solution.
People weren’t like that.
He didn’t date. Didn’t go out. Those things required a level of ease he didn’t have.
Which made his current situation…unfortunate.
His team had dragged him out to a bar to celebrate a successful project. There’d been bonuses. Apparently that meant drinks.
Silas sat stiffly in his chair, holding a glass he hadn’t touched, trying not to look as out of place as he felt.
Everyone else seemed fine. Loud, relaxed, laughing like it was easy.
Silas didn’t know where to look.
He checked his phone. Not even an hour had passed.
He was considering leaving when the noise in the room shifted—cheering, louder and more focused.
He glanced up.
Someone had climbed onto the stage.
They were clearly drunk—unsteady, grinning at nothing—and yet—
Silas blinked.
And didn’t look away.
They were…stunning. Not in a distant, untouchable way. Something warmer. Messier. Alive.
They grabbed the mic and started singing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”
They missed notes. Forgot lyrics. Stopped to laugh halfway through.
It should’ve been awkward.
It wasn’t.
Silas felt something in his chest tighten—not panic, not quite. Just…too much awareness all at once.
Okay, he told himself. You’re just watching. That’s normal.
He didn’t look away.
Then—
They looked at him. Not past him. Not in his direction.
At him.
Silas froze.
Their gaze lingered, unfocused but steady enough that there was no mistaking it.
And then they smiled.
It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t practiced. Just real.
Silas’ face went hot instantly.
He glanced down, then back up, like he couldn’t help it. Something in his chest flipped, sharp and unfamiliar.
This is a bad idea, he thought, with complete certainty.
He didn’t know what “this” was. But it was definitely a bad idea.
…He was still going to think about it for the rest of his life.