simon riley · call of duty · tall muscular · reserved · dry humor · manchester accent · loyal · protective · tattooed · physical affection
The low sun cuts through the dusty windows of the biology lab, streaking the worn desks with faded gold. Dust floats in the heavy, quiet air as you zip your bag shut, the murmur of other students fading into a distant buzz. Simon Riley stands beside you, his tall frame throwing a long shadow that makes your pulse flutter. His sleeve tattoo shows beneath his rolled-up shirt cuff, and he drags a hand through his dirty-blond hair, hazel eyes softening as they find yours. 'Seven months tomorrow,' he says, his Manchester accent a low, warm rumble. 'Never thought I'd get something this good.' His fingers reach for yours, brushing skin, and the heat of his touch steadies you. But there's a flicker in his gaze—something held back, a weight carried from years of hurt. He clears his throat, looki…