“Thanks,” he whispered, taking the newly-made hot chocolate from me as I sat down on the bench next to him. He took a sip and looked at me. “Sorry. H-how's your elbow...? I – aren't you cold?”

I flushed red, and I didn't understand how this guy already made me putty in his hands and he didn't even do anything yet. “My elbow's fine,” I beam, raising my rolled-up sleeve at him. “No harm, no foul. Again, I was the one who took your drink.”

“But aren't you cold? It's, like 30-something degrees right now.”

I shook my head. “Kind of? Not really.” I patted my chest. “I'm very warm-blooded.” I glanced out at the street and up to the stars above us. The air still, somehow, smelled like seaweed and fried foods, ocean air and cotton candy, and the waves on the beach only really added to it all. “And a cold night means the sky is clear.” That's one of the things I liked about Harley. The quiet enthusiasm for the cosmos that he welcomed anyone in on. I took a sip of my cappuccino. “Pretty, isn't it?” I side-eyed him.

Simon blinked, then breathlessly grunted. “I...sorry, I forgot your name.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Oh, God, I thought you – never mind. I'm Micah.”

Simon smirked, and it's so freaking cute it made me want to lean into him. “I think, technically, I took your drink first.”

I sighed and looked down at my caramel cappuccino, now cold and settling in the cup. It's the best drink I've ever had in my entire life. “What brought you out here tonight?”

His lips pursed, Simon cleared his throat. “I finished a project. It was delivered late, and it was my fault, but I thought...” He hummed, waving his hand through the cold air. He took a sip and let out a slow breath. “You?”

I shook my head. “No real reason. Everyone I went to school with liked this place, and they're all in college now, but I just...felt like coming out for coffee. To remember, I guess.” I grinned at him. “I got to meet you, so...does that count?”

Simon glanced away. He took another sip of his hot chocolate.

Oh, God, if he was religious and there I was, accidentally dropping G*d's name like a freaking rapper, I would have absolutely started crying. Or apologizing. Apologizing while crying was also an option.

“You're cheesy, huh?”

“...yeah. Sorry if it's gross.”

“Not gross. Just...I don't know. Different.”

“Hm.”

“...haven’t seen you around here before.” Simon looked at me. “I, generally, know the people around here. Are you...did you just move here?”

I shook my head. “No. I've lived on Washington Street for the past 8 years with my foster parents.”

“Oh.” It was soft, with this sad, aching realization. “Sorry.”

“Nononono, it's okay.” I looked away and took a sip of cappuccino. “It happened so long ago that it doesn't really matter now. I mean, it does, but...less so.” I leaned back against the bench outside the cafe. “Where would you expect to see me?”

Simon shrugged. “I don't know. The usual hangouts?”

“Usual hangouts?”

“Yeah. The Bugle. That bar on 22nd Street. The Warehouse, down by Jefferson's. The...some of us go down to The Rainbow Room in Morris River sometimes.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I've heard of the Rainbow Room, but it never really occurred to me to go to it.” I looked at my drink. “Like, I'm not...” I didn't want to say it.

He didn't say anything for a long while, and when I side-eyed him, he had this desolate look on his face. “Oh.” He said it low, like he'd just made a mistake.

I leaned forward and touched his hand.

He pulled it away.

“Simon, just, hear me out. Okay? That's all I want.”

He didn't move.

“...yeah. I'm not gay. I don't know if I'm bi, or pan, or allosexual or questioning or whatever. But, buuuuuuuuuuuuut,” I said, holding his arm to make sure he didn't go anywhere. I slid next to him, and my heart began pounding in my ears. I just hoped he couldn't hear it. “I...I don't know, I saw you tonight, and I...panicked? Not, not like a 'Oh G*d', but more – I – shoot, uh, are-are you religious?”

Simon shook his head. He still wasn't looking at me.

“Oh. Okay. B-because I'm not either, but I didn't want to be a gigantic jerkface if I kept dropping G*d's name and you were religious.”

“Micah.”

“Sorry, sorry! I...shoot, where was I?”

He looked at me. “Are you always like this?”

“Scatterbrained?”

“Energetic, but lets throw that in there, too.”

“Only when I'm nervous, and I really...really, don't want to mess up.” I paused. I started running my fingertips along the split skin around my nails, fidgeting. “And talking to someone really hot.”

He turned away.

I grunted and slid across the bench. “But I, I saw you tonight, and I panicked a little. In the way someone sees someone drop-dead gorgeous and they just want to talk to them so badly.” I wiped my face and laughed. “I looked at you, and...I won't lie, I fell a little head over heels in love with you. I don't know why. No one's ever done that to me before. But...ugh, I wish I could explain it, Simon. I really do. But it just...you make sense in my head.”

Simon sighed. “...oh.”

I looked at him. “Am I coming on too strong? I don't mean to. I've never been in a situation like this before.”

“'Strong's a word for it.” He took another sip of his hot chocolate. Simon scoffed and looked at me. His hand touched mine.

I snaked my fingers through his. “Is this okay?”

“...yeah,” he whispered, tucking our hands a little further back. He traced his thumb over mine.

I had never been so distracted by a single touch before.

My heart was pounding, but I felt oddly calm at the exact same time. I squeezed it a little tighter. I sat forward, looking at his face. “I didn't make it weird, did I?”

Simon bobs his head. “A little.”

“A little weird is okay sometimes.”

He grunted. He tried tugging his hand from mine, but didn't succeed. “I think this was a mistake.”

My heart dropped. “What?”

“Micah, you're not into guys.”

“So? I'm into you.”

“You don't get it. You think I'm hot? Cool. I think you're hot, too, but that doesn't mean we can work.”

“You think I'm hot?” I asked.

“Are you – ” Simon flushed red, and cleared his throat, glancing away. “Micah.”

“I'm sorry! I-I didn't think – you think I'm hot? Have you seen yourself in a freaking mirror?”

“Micah, are you okay with it? Dating me, I mean. Because it'll mean a lot of people fucking hate us right out the get-go. There'll be a lot of places we can't go to. A lot of places we can't act like a normal couple.”

“Normal couples are dumb.”

“Micah, I don't think you understand what I'm talking about.”

“I do.”

“No, Micah, you're not thinking. You're, what, 17?”

“I'm 20 in January.”

“You're a literal child. I'm 23.”

“No way. You look great! You look, like, 19!”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, letting go of my hand to wipe his face. “No, please, please take this seriously, Micah.”

“I am.”

“Your life would be a thousand times easier if you forgot about me and found a girl to be with.” There was a waver in his voice. A pain. It broke my heart to hear it.

“Simon.”

“I just want you to really think about this.”

“You're not listening to me.”

“Because you're not listening to me.”

“I have thought about it and my answer is no.”

He let out this breathless sigh, leaning forward. He covered his eyes with his hands.

I stared. I wasn't sure if I was mad or scared or upset or something else. Everything felt so raw and fresh, like I was feeling everything for the first time in my entire life, and everything else was just setup for this moment.

“...saying you have just because you're being stubborn doesn't count.”

“I don't know about you, but I have never been more sure of something than this.”

He stood. His hand fell from mine. “Go home, Micah. Thanks for the drink.”

“I – Simon – ”

“Please, just think about it,” he said, turning back to me, this swirl of desperation and desolation, and I realized the dark rings under his so-blue eyes. “Please...Micah.”

I stood, my cappuccino splattering on the ground beside my foot. “And what happens if I do think about it, and I do want to take this seriously? What then?”

He just stared at me. His shoulders rose up and down before he finally broke eye contact with me. “Micah, I'm...just thinking seriously about – ”

“No, you're thinking pessimistically,” I said, starting to close the distance between us. “This is the first time in my entire life I've looked at someone and felt...that. I'm not going to throw it away because you're...3 years older than me, – ”

“4.”

“ – or because you're a guy. I could honestly care less about that.” I put my hands on his arms. “Simon, I am thinking seriously about this.”

He tsked me, his eyes still away. “You're a child.”

“...fine,” I huffed, stepping back. “Fine. I'll think about it.” I glanced back into the coffee shop. “If I'm here, next week, after the sun's set, I've freaking thought about it. And if I'm here, next week, after the sun's set, and you show up, I'll buy you your freaking hot chocolate with whipped cream and caramel drizzle and we can talk about it.”

Simon drew in a breath. “Micah – ”

“No, you're right. Who the heck falls in love like that? One in a million. But I – I'm so freaking lucky to be that one with you.”

His breath hitched.

I stepped back, the empty cappuccino cup shuffling on the sidewalk, my converse gently soaked in them. “I...I'll think about it, Simon. Okay? Jus – please be there next week.”

He sighed. “Micah – ”

“Please?”

Simon tapped his hand against his thigh, the hot chocolate in his other hand now definitely cold. “...okay.” He turned on his heels, whispering, “Night, Micah.” and trekked off down to the shore.

I stayed put, watching him recede into whatever light there was left before glancing down at my drink. Despite the temperature, I felt so cold. I wanted to run after him and beg for him to stop so we could talk. Talk about anything and everything. I wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry, because I didn't know his last name. I didn't have his number. There was a chance I'd never see him again.

I glanced back towards him, walking away without a second glance. Something in my chest radiated this warmth, this certainty that we'd meet again, and I started walking back to the Reynolds' house.

Ignoring the gentle cold pang from having picked my nails too much, I messaged in the group chat, minus Marie, that I was in love. I'd tell her later.