Crumpled paper balls, broken pencils, and stress balls ripped asunder surround Clyde McBride's desk, the perpetrator of such hapless property damage being none other than the owner himself. He laces his shaking hands together to use as a prop for his chin while he sits in his desk chair, deep in thought and even deeper in fanciful hopes.

The evening brings him peace, both because of the distant chirping of a cricket horde's lullaby or the warm glow of the pale moonlight giving him light bright enough to see everything around him but not harsh enough to burn through his eyes.

He's calmer than he was ten minutes ago, when a stark revelation hit him like a tossed brick over the head while he laid in bed and he had hurriedly tore through whatever he had close by in a fit of controlled excitement.

It wasn't an easy task to ease his frenetic nerves, but it by no means should've been—Clyde figures that anyone in his shoes would've done just about the same after getting an inkling that, Lynn Loud Jr, the object of his affection ever since he crossed the finish line of middle school graduation last year, miiiiight just like him back.

Okay, sure, the premise is reminiscent to every delusion he's had about Lori back when he had nary a clue about what love was outside of his biased obsession, but he swears that this time is different. Besides the fact that he's an older, wiser Clyde McBride now, he's pretty sure that there's substantial evidence of affection from Lynn's end and all of it has come in the form of moments in time where she's gone a little above and beyond her usual brand of playful, platonic interactions with him to cross over into what seems to be her idea of...flirting.

He's spent the better part of these past few months thinking about every little hint Lynn has dropped on him lately, but he only went as far as cherishing those moments as individual strokes of fortune. That is, until tonight. Instead of moments, now they resemble puzzle pieces that ultimately form a grand picture of them watching the sunset under the shade of a giant oak tree, her head in his lap and lovesick smiles on both of their faces.

And such a smile crosses Clyde's face now as he sighs dreamily. It's hard not to as he recalls how it all began...

Last month: Taking up the task of being Lynn's math tutor had its immediate benefits for Clyde. For one, it had gifted him the instant gratification of having the girl you like think he was cool for doing her a solid. There had also been the intimacy of spending an hour or two with his crush at his house, his fathers giving them both space in the dining room at the dinner table to help "set the mood" for their son.

But then, Lynn had done something that jolted his body with tingles and immediately made him stiffen up like a board as his heart had pulsed in quick spams and color had shaded his face a bright red, glowing hue—the smooth, cotton surface of her sock-covered foot had made a scant brush against his leg.

His once downcast gaze had slowly crept across the table and he had found her doing nothing amiss—she had had her focus squarely on the book in front of her, seemingly racking her brain around a problem that Clyde had told her to try out on her own before asking for help.

'Just a coincidence,' Clyde had thought, disappointed.

Then, she had looked up at him.

And had smiled.

Three weeks ago: Lynn's proposal for Clyde to be her "practice dummy" was something that he had no prayer of turning down, even though he was sure that it meant spending his Saturday afternoon getting tackled and thrown around like a rag doll with whatever sport or martial arts that she had had in mind—there's not much room for "no" when it comes to one's crush, Clyde had thought at the time.

But he was in for a pleasant surprise when Lynn had invited herself over his house and led them to his room. Within the span of a few minutes, he had found himself lying on his bed on his stomach with his shirt stripped off, getting the tight, stiff muscles of his back worked over by Lynn's strong hands and elbows as she straddled his hips.

"Thanks for letting me sharpen my deep tissue massage technique," she had said over his sighs of pleasure, her thumbs making wide, slow circles over his shoulder blades.

"N-no problem, L-Lynn," he had replied, his voice a quivering slur as tension he didn't even know he carried had melted into hot goop that slathered over his tendons and cooled his aches.

"Hope you don't mind if I swing by from time to time and use you for practice again," she added.

"Mmmm...n-not at all..."

From there, she had spent the next half an hour letting her strong, calloused fingers work out every little knot he had housed in his back, neck, and shoulders with sweeps of her thumbs, the grinding of her fists, and a series of relentless but soft chops.

At one point, he had groaned rather loudly as she forced a pop to creak out of his neck, and the way she giggled had made his heart flutter.

"You're either trying to flatter me or I'm better than I thought," she had teased with an air of what sounded like coquettish flair. "Hmmm...should I go on a little longer and find out for myself or are you good?"

She picked the former without giving him the chance to moan out an objection.

Not that he had wanted to, anyway.

Last Saturday: Clyde wasn't unaccustomed to winding up in a large puppy pile of Loud siblings whenever he was over the Loud house for a sleepover/movie night, but this occasion had been different.

Way different.

Good different.

Clyde had occupied the middle cushion, stuffed in between the twins. The others had filled up the remainder of the couch or had gathered around the floor in front of the TV. Lynn hadn't joined them yet, needing to "drop a load" first. Upon coming back and seeing more than enough floor space to park her keister, she did the only sensible thing.

She had zeroed in at Clyde's direction, showing no reconsideration as she shuffled over and clambered onto his lap. Her silky ponytail had gotten in his face, tickling his cheek, and the sweet scent of her clean-smelling body wash—combined with the warmth in her thighs nestling in between his legs and the curve of her back pressing against his chest—had nearly given him a heart attack.

She had given him a sidelong glance as she looked back, her smile carrying no traces of gleeful mischief. She had then draped one of his arms over her waist.

"Comfy?" she had asked.

The poor boy had only been able to nod, words failing as his scrambled brain had tried processing everything that had happened.

Meanwhile, he had missed Luan and Luna looking on and exchanging smirks.

Two days ago (Thursday): "Hey, Clyde! Check these puppies out!"

Upon dropping by his house after school (she seems to really like doing that nowadays, Clyde had noted that day) and dragging him out to his backyard, Clyde had taken her request as something completely different when, in her fit of giddy enthusiasm, Lynn had grabbed the hem of her shirt by one hand and yanked it up. He had nearly shut his eyes out of modesty, thinking that he was about to get introduced to a pair of perky, freckle-dotted puppies.

He had almost done so, but didn't when he had seen that she had stopped before that admittedly pleasant reality could happen. What she had done next was almost as salacious, though. Her other other hand had gripped the waistband of her shorts and had tugged them down by a fraction of an inch—his stomach twisted into knots and a blush soaked through his face as he could make out the top of the waistband of her underwear.

"Finally got an eight pack," Lynn had boasted with the mirth of a proud mother. "Pretty badass, right?"

His throat had swelled up, only affording him the luxury of swallowing in a nervous gulp. He had found himself caught in a trance, his eyes shamelessly roaming down each slab of muscle covered by the silky, smooth surface of her skin. The strands of her obliques had been a sight to behold, too, and Clyde had felt his fingers curl up in a reflex as the thought of gently running his hands down her toned stomach had crossed his mind.

And then, the show had ended as Lynn had let her hands drop, her clothes readjusting. She had smirked at his agape, stunned expression. "At least someone around here can take some time to appreciate a good pair of abs," she had said. "Everyone at my place was 'too busy' to marvel."

She had turned to leave, looking over her shoulder as she said, "Anywaaaaays, I'mma head back home now. Later, Clyde. See you on Sunday for our study date."

Clyde had hated to see her go so soon, but conceded that after witnessing the bounce of her hips and the wiggle of her butt beneath her shorts as she had walked off, that he had loved watching her leave.

Now, Clyde's no longer all smiles, but only because he realizes what has to come next and it almost makes him an anxious fit all over again.

He has to respond to kind, return serve.

It's not just enough to be a little kinder, a little more considerate, a lot more complimentary. No, this demands that he enters the same game as hers and let Lynn know, in no uncertain words, that the feeling of attraction was mutual.

The good news is that he already knows what to do.

The bad news is that he only has two days before their Sunday study date to work up the nerve to get job done.

Now that he thinks of it, he could ask Rusty for some pointers for the best approach tomorrow at school. Maybe that can calm him down.

...

Or maybe, he thinks resolutely, that he needs to get to bed soon before he entertains more foolish ideas.

On Sunday's noon, Clyde steps out of the house to birdsong and sunlight as he dashes down the sidewalk. He whizzes down several blocks before he even registers that due to his running, his heart is pumping fast—he's so used to that sensation every time he thinks of Lynn that it's hardly worth dwelling on. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Lynn!" Clyde cries out, waving frantically as he spied, with his little eye, the girl he's been looking for heading his way.

He sees her stop and upon drawing close, he feels the bones in his legs quiver when he takes in the splendor of her cute face. It's as pretty as always, even as he takes in her confused expression—it can't tarnish the beauty behind the tiny, brown swirl of freckles that cutely dotted her cheeks, the soft, pink curve of her lips, or the bridge of her pudgy, kissable nose.

"Clyde?" she asks. "What're you doing out here? I was just on my way to your place for our study date."

"Figured we could walk out here together," Clyde says with a shrug, going through his practiced dialogue that he prepared for to answer this inevitability. "That's not a problem, is it?"

She's quick to answer and even quicker to smile back at him. "Nah. Nothing wrong with a little fresh air, I guess."

Then, there's sweet, sweet silence as the two head to the McBride residence. Clyde leads the way with Lynn falling back by a few paces. So far, everything's gone according to plan, but now he realizes that he has to step up to plate and get a home run.

So that means he has to actively take a swing, and that suddenly makes his heart race all over again as he knows what has to happen next.

What needs to happen next.

He gulps. Focus.

"So, Lynn..." Clyde says, his words trailing off.

Lynn takes the open invitation that the gap in his cease leaves her. "Hm?"

"By any chance, do you...uh..." Clyde chides his nervousness, his fingers digging into his palms. Focus. "...do you...p-play football?"

He stops and turns around to face Lynn. Sure enough, his out-of-the-blue questions leaves her perplexed as she comes to a stop, too.

"Uh...yeah, man. I play," she says, not hiding the "Well, duh" inflection in her voice. "You oughta know. Why do you ask?"

There it is, Clyde thinks. She's taken the bait. Focus.

He sucks in a deep breath, knowing that he won't be able to say it all in one go unless he has enough air in his lungs to keep him from fainting.

"Because I can't help but notice that you have a really tight end!"

...

...

Clyde had accounted for a loss of words, from both himself and Lynn, after his less than classy attempt at a pickup line. He knows that he was going to wind up where he is now, his eyes squeezing closed as the hottest blush of his life sears through his entire body.

But what of Lynn?

He doesn't want to entertain any possibilities, bad or good. He just wants an answer.

But he hears giggling before he can open his eyes and visually take one in from the girl in front of him. When he finally does, his gut squirms, much like it did the first time that he knew that he liked Lynn as more than a friend.

Crimson blooms over her face.

A sly grin pushes the slope of her reddened cheeks up.

Her brown eyes squint saucily.

"Oh? Is that so?" Lynn questions as her eyes roam up and down Clyde's body. "Well then, Mr. Math Tutor, if you help me ace my next Pre-Calc test..."

She steps forward, and Clyde's body feels like it's being set ablaze as she closes the distance. Her hands cup his shoulders as she leans up on her tiptoes, her warm breath tickling his ear as she presses into him to whisper, "...maybe I'll let you find out how tight it is."

Clyde feels a jet of air explode into his lungs as his burning cheek feels the silkiness of Lynn's lips caress the skin in a chaste kiss.

But the girl's not done with him yet.

"And by the way, I've always thought the same way about you."

"H-huh?"

He doesn't see her arms creeping around his waist and winding back—it makes the hard smack across his butt come out of the blue and shocking him like a bolt of lightning. He squeaks in surprise and Lynn laughs cheekily at his startled face and decides to help herself to a little more of her bounty of booty with a few, light squeezes.

She slips away and nonchalantly walks past him, only coming to a stop when she looks back and sees that Clyde still hasn't moved yet.

"Well, you coming or what, Casanova?!" she calls over to him.

It snaps him out of his rigid stasis, and recalling the past minute all at once almost gets him to freeze up like a statue all over again.

But he can't do that, now he knows what awaits him in the future of what was a rousing success: kisses, dates, and every other happy memory that can't fit in one neat category.

"Y-yeah! Coming, Lynn!" Clyde calls back with a wide grin and sprints over to his girlfriend.

And before he knows it, they're leaning into each other as they walk at a snail's pace, holding hands and relishing each other's company.

Thank God, Clyde thinks happily, that he didn't get Rusty's help.