Kyle met you when you came to one of his shows on some random weekday he couldn’t care to remember the date of. He hardly even looked at you—a random face amidst many in the crowded cafe. It wasn’t until you approached him after the show that he even realized you existed and went to the girl’s catholic school across from his.

You only knew his name because Ladybird’s friend mentioned him, and you only tagged along since his band was spoken so highly of. The two of you shared a few words, and he wasn’t very interested. That was until you left with just a single glance at him. It’s not that Kyle was desperate; he knew he could get whoever he wanted. Yet here you were, acting as casual, as unbothered as him. Atypical, for a catholic girl.

He caught you again when he was reading outside of the cafe you and Ladybird worked at. Halfway through a cigarette, he glanced over to see you leaving the shop. The two of you exchanged some more words, and then you were off again. Oh, you had him hooked.

He found you again, between your schools when you were leaving class while he was ditching. He took the effort to compliment you. You looked better in that uniform than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that ghost of a smirk on your lips when he went out of his way to openly admire your face. He managed to get your number written on his hand, and he was going to make well with it.

The two of you talked for a while before you eventually started hanging out between school days and work nights. You began to accompany him to his shows, and you’d make out in any hallway you could. You took your time with him, not quite ready to go too far. Your parents were strict, after all. When you told him that between kisses, he agreed, claiming he was also a virgin. Doubtful, but you were pleased he was in the same boat.

Now, the two of you are tucked away in the corner hall of the cafe. His band is on the little stage, adjusting and tuning between sets. He pulls you up against him, content to spend the break with you all over him.