Simon got hot chocolate with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, and offered to get something for me. We debated sitting inside versus sitting out, because Simon was hyperfixated on not looking like a pedophile.

Tiffany didn't seem like herself; she seemed more aggravated by me, in particular, compared to Simon or anyone else. Every question I asked – about how her day was, about her girlfriend – was pretty much shot down or answered with a single word or grunt. Maybe she was having an off day, which I understood, but it left this awful taste in my mouth. I was still cordial with her. Still tipped her when I paid for Simon's drink.

In the end, I didn't get anything.

We decided on outside, since “I could still run away if I wanted to.” And there were plenty of open seats on the patio beside the cafe since it was another cold night.

“Why are we still acting like we're not going to get together?” I asked, sitting forward on the bench outside the cafe. “You like me, I like you. Isn't that enough?”

“No. It isn't.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you just looking for excuses?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because no one falls in love like – ”

“We did.”

“But why are we the enigmas? I don't know you, and then I saw you in this fucking cafe, and I just – I turned into fucking jelly? That doesn't happen. I don’t have reactions like that to people.”

“You turned into jelly?” I asked, leaning forward. “Are you kidding me? I saw you, and I felt the entire freaking universe align.”

“I saw you from across a goddamned room and you were the only person there.”

“The moment you looked at me, I wanted to confess every single sin I've ever done to you.”

“I almost fell over walking over to you. I felt like such a fucking idiot.”

“I saw shoujo sparkles.”

“What?” He scoffed, smirking.

Which made me smile.

Which made him smile more.

Which made me melt.

Simon's jaw tensed, and he turned away. “Micah, I'm serious, though. I want you to really think about it.”

“I did. I've been taking notes on reasons why we should and shouldn't date.”

“What.”

“Most of the pros were how cute you were. Your smile. Your hands. Your freckles. Can I say your freckles are super cute?”

“No.”

“They are.”

“Were there any cons, Micah?”

I scoffed. “...yes.” I pulled out my phone and started scrolling.

“Are they all thing I said before?”

“No.” I scrolled some more. “I have one you didn't say, right here. 'I...don't know about gay sex.' But that's okay because I plan on watching some porn videos and taking notes – ”

“Micah.”

“You also said that you didn't know me, but that's half the fun of dating someone.”

“Oh my God.”

“Tell me something about you I don't know, then.”

He scoffed and looked at me. Something in his blue eyes sparkled, but his face was downcast. “You mean everything?”

I shrugged, shifting myself towards him. “I did say it was half the fun.”

He faltered for a second, clearly withdrawing into himself, before he sighed and relented. “Anything in mind you want to know.”

“Everything.”

Simon hummed, taking a sip of his drink before tipping his head back until it tapped against the window of the cafe. “I'm not from around here.”

I sat forward, wringing my fingers together. “What brought you out here, then?”

He didn't answer.

I frowned, tapping my fingers together. “You don't want to talk about it?”

“...no. No, I don't.” He inhaled and turned to me. “Tell me something about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything. I don't know.”

“No burning questions.”

“Everything is a burning question when it comes to you.” He said it with such definiteness, such softness, that it made me smile. He must've realized how wonderfully cheesy it was because he flushed red and turned away. “T-tell me something. Anything. Everything.”

I flushed. “I was addicted to Angry Birds a year ago.”

Simon stared, his eyes narrowed and lips parted in confusion, before he snorted. “What.”

“I don't get what the big deal is about postmodern art, either. It's shapes and lines. Wooooo. Give me Van Gogh over Gehry any day.”

He scoffed, chuckling. “Who are you? How do you mix up artists and architects?”

“I'm very talented, Simon. Oh, also, I’m very bad at math.”

He laughed this time, and the sound was so light and bright it felt like he could outshine the stars.

I turned away, wringing my fingers together. “I don't know about you, but I have been thinking about this. I...get where you're coming from, but I don't think I've ever been more sure of something in my life than this.” I looked at Simon, and this rising bubble in my chest made me want to lean in and kiss him.

He grunted, looking at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Really sure?”

“...yeah,” I breathed. “Are you?”

Simon didn't answer. He swallowed, clenching his jaw, and sighed. His head hang, shamed. “Micah, I...there's a lot I'm not sure about. For a lot of reasons that I don't want to talk about right now. But I don't want to...God, I don't want to fuck up your life, either, because we're...caught up in...” He pursed his lips and grunted.

My hands ran up his arms. “I love you.”

“Don't say that.”

“But I do.”

“You don't know me.”

“I want to.”

“...you do?”

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes. I scooted closer to him, my hands still on his arms. “Am I going overboard?”

“God...fuck,” he hissed. “No, you're not. And that's what fucking sucks about it.”

And our noses brushed against the other's, and it took my breath away, being so close to him. I cupped his face with my free hand, maybe to bring him closer, but it didn't work. We closed our eyes to, just, soak up our being there together. Our foreheads bumped together. “I – ” I cleared my throat. “I thought you were religious.” I remember thinking how much of a freaking idiot I was.

“Y – ” Simon's breath caught. “...what?”

“Never mind. Ignore me.” My heartbeat was pounding. I laughed.

It was like the world was being washed away, a chalk drawing on a rainy day, until we were the only ones left in it. Hazy punches of light surrounded us. No cars, no people, just us. Me and Simon. The sounds of the ocean and seagulls and us. Together. And this world was so freaking perfect and beautiful and –

“F****ts.” The word is said so lowly, so quietly, that the ocean nearly swallowed it whole.

Simon pulled away, turning to watch a group of girls walk past us.

I was left frozen and cold. It was like he pulled something out of me, and I was now hollowed out, like a cave and the tide's gone out – empty and cold and echoe-y and so very alone-feeling. I stood, this embarrassed rage in me. “H-hey! That wasn't cool!”

They looked back at me and walked on, like they were shrugging off something their little brother just said.

It made me want to talk to them more. “Hey!”

“Jus – ” Simon covered his face, sitting forward. His back arched in embarrassment. “That's what I was talking about.”

“What they did wasn't okay, though.”

“Micah, I – ” He stopped himself. When he looked back at me, there was a hurt in his expression that I couldn't place, that I wanted to chase away. He stood, shoving one hand into his jacket pocket. “Think about it. Really think about it.” He reached down for his now-cold hot chocolate and started towards the street. “I got to go.”

I grabbed his wrist. “No, i-it's okay. That was a fluke. Let's do that again.”

“No, Micah. I was being serious. You just distracted me.”

“If anything, you distracted me!”

“Micah.”

I whimpered. I freaking whimpered.

Simon drummed his fingertips along the rim of his hot chocolate. “Please? Just, think about it. For one more day. That's all I really want from you right now. This...won't be easy, and you've never been in a relationship with another guy before, so I want you – ”

I giggled.

“ – to think about it. For, just a little longer. Please.” He licked his lips and glanced around. “If you're here tomorrow, great. I'll be here tomorrow, and if you do decide you want to do this – ”

“I'll be here at 8-freaking-30 waiting for you with a hot chocolate with whipped cream and caramel drizzle on top.”

“I don't want another hot chocolate when I don't deserve it.”

“Then I'll get you something else. A strawberry lemonade. A freaking passion fruit tea. I don't know what's on their menu anymore, but I'll get it if you want it.”

Something about how he looked at me was painful. I didn't know what. It was just this mix of agitation and longing and frustration. His shoulders rolled forwards, hand still fixed in his pocket. Then he grunted, defeated, and whispered, “If you're here at 8:30 tomorrow...I'll be waiting for you.”

I swallowed. “...okay?”

“Okay.”

I nodded. “...yeah. But, but if you're not here by the time they close, my heart's going to be so broken.”

Simon dropped his head and scoffed. When he looked back at me, the ghostly hints of a smirk were on his lips.

It sent shivers through me.

“You know what, Micah? Fine.” He looked away, back to the street, before stepping towards me. “If you're here by 8:30, I'll be here by 8:31 so I can order your caramel cappuccino, you can get me something other than the hot chocolate, and we don't have to be apart for any longer.”

I giggled again.

He nodded, not saying anything else, and walked away.

I was there by 8:30. He was there not even 30 seconds later. And when we kissed, it was the most amazing freaking thing I've ever experienced in all of human existence.