The day Simon Hopkins walked into the garage was an absolutely ordinary day. His appearing made Tuesday, January 7, 2020 my favorite day of the week. “Hi,” I said, ignoring the slightly wiggle in my voice as I leaned forward over the front counter. That day, for some reason, the Gods must have smiled on Simon because he looked positively gorgeous, even with the 2 bags of groceries wrapped around each wrist. “What're you doing here? I thought you were working today. You still want me to bring over pizza?”

He raised the bags. “I was...running errands, and...I got your pizza.”

“Not everyone can stomach Hawaiian pizza.”

“Not everyone can stomach buying it.”

In his bag, there were 2 frozen Hawaiian pizzas. “I love you.”

He grimaced, glancing away, his ears slightly pink.

“What?”

“What?”

He drew in a breath. “Wanted to stop in, too, and see how you were.”

“I’m fine. Better now.”

“Still not shaken about the bushfires?”

I was, but it wasn’t his problem. I’d already donated money to the Red Cross and Oxfam, but I felt like that wasn’t enough. “A little, but nothing too serious.” I smiled.

Simon scrutinized me for a while longer before glancing away.

“Something's up.”

“Hm?”

“You just...I don't know. Are you okay?”

His face grew redder. “Y-yeah. I'm just...” He couldn't meet my gaze.

“Simon?”

“I'm trying to...do something.”

“It looks like you're trying to poop.”

“It's anti-procrastination-constipation.”

I laughed at that.

Simon only frowned more.

“What?”

“God, don't make me say it, Micah.”

I chuckled. “I won't. I don't know what you're going to say, but I know better.” I tried to nudge his arm, but he was standing too far away. “Just tell me tonight, okay?”

“Absolutely not,” he grunted.

I laced my fingers together on the countertop. “What can I do for you, Mr. Hopkins? I doubt you came in to get your vehicle serviced today.”

“I was about to say if that was a euphemism.”

“It could be.” I winked at him.

He grimaced.

“I'd come over to hug you, but we're not supposed to show any kind of bias while on shift, which is dumb considering how cute you are.”

“That's okay. I'm just stopping in.”

“Aw.” I smiled. “So no vehicle servicing, no oils or lubricants needed – ”

“Now you're just trying.”

“ – unless you came to see me?”

“That's cheesy and you know it.” He paused. “I – okay, yeah. I...did. Not everyone walks the 8 blocks from the grocery store to a garage to just 'stop in'. I just – ” He looked at me and sighed. His shoulders relaxed. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled, and my face hurt from smiling so much. “You made my day.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You stopped in. That's – ” God, I wanted to kiss him so badly. “Hi.”

Simon stared at me for a while, not saying anything. “I...” He drew in air through his teeth. He slapped his hand down on the counter, but didn't move after that. “This might be the worst idea in all of human history, but I – fuck, I really, really want you to think about it. And ask Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. First.”

I raised a brow. “Cryptic. Fun. Do I get more hints?” I gasped. “Is this, like, a scavenger hunt I need a guardian's permission for? What's the reward?”

“I – ” He huffed, smirking. “Micah, no.”

“Tell me more, then. Tell me with your voice. I like listening to you.”

Simon pulled his hand back to show 2 keys sitting on the scratched top. “Think about it. Seriously. Ask Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds first. Okay?”

I don't know if my brain was just not processing or it had shut down when I realized it was a set of keys, but I asked, “Is this to your mailbox?”

“Are you serious?”

“...no,” I scoffed. And then my brain caught up with me. I ran my fingers over the teeth of the thing and squealed – I freaking squealed – almost launching myself over the front counter. I shouted, “Yes! Is this even a question? Of course I'll – !”

“I know,” he said, shushing me. His face was still red. “But...ask them first. Okay? If they say 'no,' that's fine. But, if you're not okay with – ”

“You – ssssshhhhhhhhhh!” I hissed, my hand reaching out to press into his face. “I'll ask. I'll ask, and I'll still move in with you.”

“I just don't want to piss them off.”

“You won't. They like you.”

Simon let out this breathless sigh. He nearly turned away before turning back to me. “You look...cute. In that.”

I glanced down at my shirt, the only thing that's branded by this place. “Should I...wear this?”

“No, I'm just – ” He groaned. “I like seeing you.”

“You'll see me tonight.”

“It's too far away.” And then he groaned again. “God, I hate you, Micah. I wasn't cheesy before I met you.”

“You still really aren't. That's my job.”

“See you tonight. Bye.”

“Bye! Love you!”

He grumbled something over his shoulder before speed walking out the door and back towards his apartment.

I looked down at the keys and twirled then between my fingers, lightheaded and giddy.

Me kicking open the front door and shouting, “I'm moving in with Simon” is most definitely not what he was hoping I'd do. When Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds appeared, they were understandably confused, though I managed to giggle out what had happened on shift at the garage.

They wouldn't talk about it until after I had cleaned myself. Talking about things while smelling like grease and oil is not what conversation makes. “Huh,” Mr. Reynolds said, twirling the keys between his fingers. “Huh.”

I ran my hand through my wet hair, tapping my foot on the kitchen floor. I could feel the seconds ticking by.

“David, if you say 'huh' one more time, I'm going to take them from you,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“No, I just...” He placed the keys down on the table, pressing them as flat as possible on the surface. “I didn't expect Simon to...do that. He doesn't strike me as the kind of kid to...do this. I would've expected you to...I don't know, slowly start moving things over one day and he, just, goes along with it.”

I won't lie, I did think about doing that. But that was not romantic and I wanted it to be romantic.

“Well, it's nice to see him taking this seriously,” Mrs. Reynolds said, putting down a small bowl of sweet chili sauce in front of her husband.

“He's always taking this seriously,” I insisted. “I like that he asked me. It's sweet.” It wasn't the right word, but it was the only way to really describe it.

“To be fair, though, I thought you'd move in 'Columbus 'discovering' America' style.”

I scoffed at that. “I wouldn't do it like that. There's a protocol for things like this.”

“Oh?”

“Are we that old that we don't remember the moving-in protocol?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

I flushed. “Th – of course there's protocol for it.” Oh, God, was there?

“Micah, sweetheart, your boyfriend just asked you to move in. That is the protocol.”

“Isn't it a little soon?” asked Mr. Reynolds. “You've only really been dating for a month. Month and a half.”

“Marie and Georgina said the same thing. But, but they just don't understand it. Marie was the only one who met Simon, and it was only for, like 20 minutes, too.”

They frowned. They exchanged glances before looking back to me.

“What?”

“Did something happen over winter break with everyone?”

I blinked. “No, I just miss them.”

“You'd tell us if something's going on, right?”

I nodded. “It's a change, them being away after being together for so long.” I pulled out my phone to start messaging the group chat. “And they're everywhere, so I can't really, just, call them out of the blue like I used to, or go over to their place since I don't have a car.”

“You can use ours, Micah, to visit them.”

“I would, but then I'd have to drive, like, 5 hours to Florida to visit Marie, and then another 2 hours to visit Georgina, and then an hour to visit Oscar. And that's just 3 of them. I'd end up driving a big, weird circle and I don't want to add to climate change if I can.”

“Oh my God,” Mr. Reynolds sighed. “Just say you don't like driving.”

“I don't like driving, but I also don't want to add to climate change. I’m already anxious about the bushfires, and I had a dream last night they spread across the Pacific to California - ”

Mr. Reynolds sighed again.

I caught myself. “I…I miss them, and I hope they miss me, too.” I looked back to them, smiling. “It’s just different. That's it.”

Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were not convinced by that.

“I swear, I'm okay. Promise. But now...” I slapped my hand down over the keys to Simon's apartment, freaking giddy at it, and scraped it towards me. “...I want to move in with him. And I made notes on pros and cons of it.” I dropped my phone on the tabletop.

“Are most of the pros 'seeing Simon'?” asked Mrs. Reynolds.

“No.” Yes. And sex. “I am a responsible adult.”

“Micah, you were eating cereal straight out of the box an hour before your shift at the garage.”

“I was hungry.”

“You turn 20 in 2 days.”

“The 20's are when you're supposed to enjoy yourself.”

“And you're enjoying Simon?”

“Yes, I – ” I flushed red. “Safely.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Mr. Reynolds whispered, his ears pink. “Oh my God, I can’t unsee it.”

“I – sorry, David – !”

“You're right. You are such a responsible adult.” Mrs. Reynolds rolled her eyes, smirking.

“Simon and I – we’d be able to pool our money and do things like travel around. We could probably afford a bigger place with the extra income, and if something were to happen and either of us got sick, the other would be there to take care of them.”

Something in Mr. Reynolds stare shifted, suggesting sympathy, admiration.

I glanced down at my hands, tracing the outline of them with my fingertips. He had absolutely ruined the entire gesture for me for the rest of all eternity. “I like him a lot.”

“We know.”

“No, like I...I look at him, and my head goes a little fuzzy, and blank, and the world becomes this great expanse of possibilities, and people are put off by it because how we're doing things 'isn't the way a relationship is supposed to go'. We've farted in front of each other. He snort-laughed in front of me.” I paused, holding up my hand like I was seeing it for the first time. I could feel Simon's ghostly touch on it, bouncing up and down between my fingers. “I just...I don't want to risk missing this feeling because our relationship is inconvenient for some people.”

Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds exchange glances. “Where was this poetic prowess in your English class 2 years ago?” she asked, smirking.

“Dead inside me, until I met Simon.”

“You are sometimes intolerable, Micah.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Who knows?”

Mrs. Reynolds drew in a breath and sat down beside me. “Micah, we're just...concerned.”

“Is it the age gap things?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“David and I are...we're concerned you and Simon…you’re going to burn out.”

I blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It's been a month, sweetheart. Month and a half. If you speed through everything, not taking your time, we're concerned you'll reach a point where you...” She huffed, eyes skyward in thought. “Take things slow. That's what we're saying.”

“But I have permission to move in with him?”

“If you've already said you're going to do it, then why'd you ask us?”

The question/answer didn't satisfy me. I glanced away.

Mrs. Reynolds put a hand on my shoulder. “...sweetheart, how you live your life is your business. We don't get to decide that for you. We can only offer you as much advice as you want to hear, but your life is yours. Even then, we haven't lived your life, so our advice might be absolutely useless. We can quietly judge as much as we want, but its still your life. But we're both touched at how much you want to involve us.”

I looked at them.

“But know...” Mrs. Reynolds scooted towards me, turning herself to face me wholly. “...that whatever happens, regardless of everything, you can talk to us. Your room is always right next to the bathroom.”

I smiled, and it pained me. It made me sad. It made me think of Mom, and Dad, and how things were before I was alone, and it sent me into this worried spiral of feeling ungrateful for the things they've done for me. I managed to force out a, “Thanks.” before standing. “I'll come visit.”

“You better show us your new crib after you move in,” Mr. Reynolds said.

I nodded, this unhappy lump in my throat, and take the stairs 2 at a time to start a duffle bag.

The moment Simon opened his apartment door, I threw my arms around him and dropped my bag. He held me, and for the longest while, I felt like I was home.