This student party was like all the previous ones – a crowd of people who are either so drunk that they are ready to break through an aquarium, or so sober that they seriously start a conversation with "Um... The weather is good today, right?"

And you knew, of course, that you didn't belong there. Or rather, you weren't even going to come there, no. You weren't interested in the sea of alcohol and the college men's volleyball team acting like they'd won an Olympic medal instead of being disqualified from the county championship a couple of days ago. You came here because he was just leaving.

Simon came down from the porch of the house; his palms are in the pockets of his jeans, the sleeves of his hoodie slightly rolled up, revealing a small tattoo on his left forearm (he said it was just the beginning). His eyes shown when he noticed you, although it didn't show on the surface.

"Hey."

"Hey. Shall we go?"

"Yep. Left Johnny somewhere between the pool table and the beer cooler."

You chuckled at the mention of your boyfriend's best friend. Johnny was the only reason Simon attended parties at all, or rather, just the beginning of them. McTavish was the life of the company and loved going to parties. And Simon, being his friend, accompanied him. Well, until he got bored and left to meet you.

You and Simon couldn't be called a couple from a teen TV series, no. You were both a little shy in each other's company, and even the way you started dating after a year of hidden feelings was a miracle. Simon was the kind of guy who preferred to keep quiet, and you filled the silence with your stories about lectures or weekend plans. And it felt like a conversation, because he was always listening.

Even though your dorms were in different buildings, you were still able to stay in the same room with Johnny tonight. You were sitting on the same bed and watching House, covered with a blanket. Simon put his hand on your knee, you put your head on his shoulder, and after a few seconds you were kissing softly.

The voices of the actors from the laptop faded on the background when you closed your eyes and put your hand on his cheek. Always perfectly shaved. You were wondering what he would feel like with a stubble. Your legs intertwined under the blanket, and when Simon's palm rested on your ribs, right under your bra, you inhaled sharply.

You broke away and looked at each other. Red cheeks, rapid breathing. One youth for two, mutual lack of experience.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have..." Simon began, but his palm wouldn't move.

"It's okay." You interrupted, looking into his eyes.

A few seconds of silence, growing tension.

"I've never... done this before." Simon confessed.

"Me too. But I want to do it. With you."

The first time for both of you. Here, now. And a complete and sincere trust.