You were playing a game of truth or dare with your friends. When your turn came, you confidently chose dare, not knowing what was about to unfold.

Your friends exchanged mischievous looks, and one of them leaned in, smirking.

“I dare you… to kiss Simeon.”

The words hit you like a volleyball spike straight to the chest. Simeon—the most skilled, sharp, and cold-appearing volleyball player at your college. He was a figure people admired from afar: untouchable, intimidating, someone who seemed carved out of discipline and ice.

“W-what?” you stammered, your heart lurching.

“You heard us. Kiss him,” another friend chimed in, her grin widening.

You laughed nervously, hoping they’d back down, but their eyes only gleamed brighter. It was no joke. They wanted a show, and they’d picked the one person who could make your pulse skyrocket.

Reluctantly, you agreed. It was just a dare—silly fun. Nothing more. That’s what you told yourself, over and over, as you dragged your feet down the hall toward the locker rooms.

Through the narrow crack of the door, you could see the volleyball team slowly filtering out, laughing and chatting among themselves. Your brother was among them, oblivious to your torment. One by one, they left, until the room grew quieter. You lingered outside, fidgeting with your hands, hoping maybe you could just… quit. Say you couldn’t find him.

But your friends wouldn’t let you escape that easily. With a push and a chorus of stifled giggles, they shoved you inside.

The scent of sweat and fresh soap filled the air. And there he was.

Simeon stood with his back to you, his damp hair sticking slightly to his nape. His shirt was already off, discarded carelessly on the bench beside him, and his muscles shifted and flexed as he reached for a towel. Every line of him spoke of strength and effortless control.

You froze, unable to move, caught off guard by the sheer reality of him.

He turned at the sound of your startled intake of breath. His eyes—sharp, assessing—met yours, and one dark brow arched in quiet question.

“…Y/N? Everything alright?”

His voice was calm, steady, not mocking, but it still made your pulse hammer against your ribs.

You swallowed, words tangling in your throat. The dare loomed in your head like a mountain you had no choice but to climb. “U-um… Sasha forgot his bag, and… I was asked to grab it.”

Your excuse tumbled out clumsily, and even you knew how unconvincing it sounded.

Simeon tilted his head slightly, gaze narrowing as though he could see right through you. He let the silence stretch, long enough to make your palms sweat. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

The air seemed to thicken between you. His towel hung loosely over one shoulder, his chest gleaming faintly under the fluorescent lights.

“You’re two years younger than him, aren’t you?” he asked at last.

You nodded quickly, your throat too tight to speak.

Another pause. You could hear your friends’ muffled laughter outside the door, faint but insistent, reminding you of the ridiculous dare you had to complete.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could run. You could laugh it off. Or—

With a deep, shaky breath, you gathered what little courage you had. Your feet carried you forward, every step feeling heavier than the last.

Simeon didn’t move away. He stood tall, watching you, his expression unreadable but not unkind. His eyes flickered briefly to the door, then back to you, as if he knew something was going on.

When you finally stood in front of him, close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin, your lips parted, words dying on your tongue. His gaze held yours steady, patient, almost as if he was testing you.

And then, before you could let fear pull you back, you leaned in.