SIMON

I pull Baz into an empty hallway before first block, "I don't know what happened last night," I mutter and look away. My brain was fuzzy when I woke up. All I could recall was straddling Baz and puking while he drove away.

"Oh-" He blushes. I raise my eyebrows at him, I don't think I've ever seen Baz blush, "Nothing important. Try not getting shit-faced drunk if you actually want to remember things," He sneers and walks away. Well, that was weird. My memories are probably distorted. I bet I walked in on Baz hooking up or something stupid like that. Not that Baz has ever got it on at a party before. Has he ever got it on in general? Is Baz a virgin?

I spend the rest of my morning trying not think about Baz's sexual history.

Lunch comes slowly. Baz sits with the football players like usual, and I sit with Agatha. He keeps glaring at me and quickly looking away.

"How was the party?" Agatha asks, biting on her lower lip.

"Fine," I reply distractedly and look at Baz. We make eye contact for a split second before he breaks away and laughs at some douchebag.

"I know that you kissed someone else. Keris saw you sneak into a car with someone," She sighs and shoves her face into her hands.

"What? No I didn't," I grab her wrists and pull them away. She looks at me dejectedly.

"Simon, it's okay. I get it. We are practically a fake relationship," She smiles sadly at me.

"I don't understand. I don't remember-" Oh shit, shit, shit, "I'm so sorry, Agatha," She says something and smiles, but everything is drowned out. Did I kiss Baz? There's no way. I'm not even gay. Did Baz kiss me? No, he would never. I kissed Baz. I feel my stomach drop and I feel queasy. Oh fuck.

BAZ

I keep trying to not look at Simon, but it's difficult. Of course, when I get kissed by someone I've had a crush on for years they don't even fucking remember. He stops me in the locker room, "Baz, did we-" He starts, already blushing.

"No we didn't," I cut him off.

"I'm 99% sure we did," He fiddles with the hem of his shirt and looks at the floor.

"We can pretend it never happened," I try to say sternly but it it comes out sad. He walks closer to me and I try to take a step back but I hit the wall. I'm acutely aware that we are alone.

"Do you want really want to?" He's still not looking at me.

"I-" I stop. This is probably a joke. Simon doesn't like me, he's straight. He's messing with me. Even if he's not, he shouldn't like me. I'll ruin it, "Yes, let's forget it."

"Really?" He finally looks up at me and places both of his hands on my chest. My heart starts racing.

"Yes," I say. He leans closer and our noses brush each other.

"What if I don't want to?" He says and I can feel his breath on my lips. I can see every detail of his face. Why is he doing this? I open my mouth to reply, but he kisses me. His hands move to the back of my neck and he pushes against me. My face feels like it's on fire. I grab his shoulders and I feel his hands tighten. He's not going to let go, so I let myself melt. I kiss back just as hard. We both pull back, breathless, and rest our foreheads on each others.

"Do you still want to forget it?" He asks. I shake my head in response. I want to do it again and again, "Okay."

He kisses me, slowly and softly. I move my hands into his blonde curls. Something clicks and I hear the door open. I push Simon off violently and he falls on his ass. The coach walks into the locker room and looks at us, confused.

"Coming to practice, Basilton?" He asks. Simon scrambles to a standing position.

"Yes, of course," I follow him out. Simon watches me as I leave.