The Simp's Guide to Seducing Me

During my slacker era, I ran into the softest class proxy alive. He took zero pay for my attendance. His only goal? Catching extra glimpses of his crush.

To repay him, I volunteered as his wingman. Proxy: [She drinks jasmine green tea. Thirty percent sweet, extra boba.] Proxy: [Long wavy hair. Tall.

One look at her knocks the breath straight out of my lungs…] Proxy: [The goddess finally showed up today. Do you see her? Looks stunning, right?

She makes a basic black hoodie look like offduty model street style. Holy shit, she looks right this way… I freeze. The goddess notices me.

I could actually cry from happiness!!] My brain shortcircuits. I stare at the glowing screen, completely paralyzed. Wait a damn minute.

This 6'2", ridiculously jacked, godtier proxy—does he secretly obsess over… me?

CHAPTER 1 I snapped a screenshot of my schedule and dropped it into the campus Discord server. [Way too cold to function. Begging for a proxy.

Someone who can cover every single class.] A DM pinged almost instantly. [I can do it. I'll cover your afternoon seminar today.] Seriously? A stroke of absolute luck.

We swapped numbers, and I immediately Venmoed him twenty bucks. The notification popped up a second later. Payment declined. [Keep your money. I'm not hurting for cash.

Just a coincidence, but the girl I'm into has the exact same schedule as you. I just want an excuse to see her. Consider covering your attendance my good deed for the day.

Hoping she finally notices me.] My jaw practically hit the floor. Holy shit, the universe was actually handing me a free pass? A free proxy!

My thumbs flew across the keyboard. [You are a legend. Blessing your love life right now. Hope you get the girl!] Alistair replied with a ridiculously cute cat emoji. [Thanks.

I'll take that blessing.] And just like that, I entered my bedrotting era. Me: [Can you cover my 8 AM tomorrow? Hitting a latenight drivethru.

Definitely won't wake up.] Alistair: [Done.] Me: [Any chance you can take notes for Medieval Lit?

The professor actually checks.] Alistair: [Sure.] Me: [Weekend makeup class.] Alistair: [Bet.] I could practically weep with gratitude. I owed this guy my firstborn.

Free labor and toptier dedication? An absolute godsend. …Right up until the midterm announcement pinged in the course group chat.

I bolted upright in bed, panic clawing at my throat. A mandatory group presentation? I hadn't looked at a single syllabus all semester!

I frantically texted Alistair. [You don't need to cover Medieval Lit next week. Professor's assigning group projects.

Mandatory attendance.] He instantly fired back a cryinghappy emoji. [Mandatory? Then she has to show up, right?

I finally get to see her.] I froze, my thumb hovering over the screen. I typed out a single question mark. [What do you mean? You've covered like ten classes for me.

You haven't seen her once?] Alistair: [Yeah. She hasn't shown up lately. I'm honestly starting to worry if something happened to her. You're different.

I know you just skip because you're lazy.] I buried my face in my hands, letting out a dry laugh. Wow. Did he really have to throw that kind of shade? But hey, the guy wasn't wrong.

I was lazy. I hated studying. Sue me. Still, Alistair had saved my academic life more times than I could count. It was time to pay my debts.

A brilliant scheme clicked into place. [What's her name? I'll ask around, play matchmaker for you. Deal?] I rubbed my hands together, vibrating with excitement.

His reply popped up, instantly popping my bubble. [I actually don't know her name yet. The whole point of covering for you was to learn more about her.

But she just stopped coming to class altogether.] Wait, what? He didn't even know her name, and he was already simping this hard? This guy was way too pure for modern dating!

I racked my brain, typing frantically. [Okay, describe her. If she has my exact schedule, she's gotta be an English Lit major too. Who knows?

I might know her.] CHAPTER 2 The second Alistair started talking about his crush, he lost all restraint. A total obsession. Alistair: [She just has this insane aura.

Effortlessly smart. Definitely an English Lit major. Oh, and she drinks jasmine green tea. Thirty percent sweet with boba. She brought one to every single lecture.

She's tall with long wavy hair. Honestly, just looking at her leaves me breathless… I used to bump into her at the local animal rescue at the start of the semester.

Gorgeous and a heart of gold. She's just perfect.] He spammed my phone with paragraphs. The guy was a total simp. Hopelessly gone for this girl. I racked my brain.

I had signed up to volunteer at that exact same rescue back in September. I practically lived there. Where was this tall, wavyhaired supermodel? I definitely never saw her.

But my mind immediately started spinning a new web. I consumed romance novels like oxygen. I had strategies for days. I smirked at my screen. [Damn, I don't think I know her.

But hey, you'll see her in class next week. Just ask for her Insta. In the meantime, curate your feed. Thirst trap her a little.

Make her notice you.] The typing bubble hovered at the top of the chat for a painfully long time. Alistair: [You make a valid point.

I caught her scrolling TikTok during a break once. It was just gym bros. How do you think my progress looks? Would she be into this?] [Image] My breath hitched.

The photo loaded, taking up my entire screen. He was shirtless. The camera angle highlighted a criminally wide chest tapering down into a sharp, carved Vline.

My eyes glued themselves to the screen. Holy shit. Stark, pale skin stretched tight over heavy pectorals and eight sharply defined abs. I swallowed hard.

My gaze snagged on the harsh contrast—the soft, indecent flush of pink at his chest. My fingers gripped the edge of my phone.

Even with the device obscuring half his face, the sharp cut of his jawline and dark messy hair screamed toptier hotness. A silent scream tore through my head.

Alistair was hiding a literal weapon under those clothes! Looking like a Greek god and still playing the pure, pining secret admirer? His goddess was eating incredibly well.

I typed back, absolutely certain. [Your progress is insane. Once you get her Insta, post this. Make it visible only to her.

She'll lose her mind.] Alistair's reply came through, tinged with disbelief and a heavy dose of shy. [Really? I just take these to track my bulk.

Honestly, she's the whole reason I stay consistent in the gym… Thanks for the hype. I'm going to man up and ask for her number. Wish me luck.] Gossip fueled my existence right now.

I sprinted into the Medieval Lit seminar room fifteen minutes early. I swear to God, this was a personal record. The tiered seating was already packed.

My eyes darted across the rows, scanning the crowd. No Alistair. No tall, wavyhaired supermodel. Where were they? Where?

Just as my knee started bouncing with impatience, my screen lit up. Alistair: [She actually showed up. [crying cat emoji] I finally get to see her.

I'm so happy…] I frantically punched the keys. [Which one is she? Drop the coordinates.] Alistair replied in a literal second. [Very last row. Third seat from the left.

She brought her boba again. Do you see her? Isn't she perfect? She makes a basic black hoodie look so damn good.] Wait. Last row? Third seat from the left?

I looked down at the black hoodie drowning my frame, my fingers suddenly freezing around my boba cup. CHAPTER 3 I froze.

My gaze dropped, locking onto the plastic cup sitting on my desk. Jasmine green tea. Thirty percent sweet. Extra boba. Black hoodie. Long wavy hair. The realization slammed into me.

Every single detail matched. Me. I snapped my head up. My eyes collided straight into a gaze from the row ahead. The guy staring back at me stiffened.

His dark lashes fluttered before he quickly ducked his head. Alistair was still spamming my phone. [Holy shit, she's looking this way… I'm dead. She noticed me.

I could actually cry right now!! Should I just go for it? Ask for her number? If I ask to partner up for the group project, do you think she'd say yes?

I'll literally do her half of the work.

God, please don't let her reject me!] When the guy in the row ahead stood up and turned fully around, my brain completely shortcircuited because he was absolutely gorgeous—a literal godtier visual.

Then, the shirtless gym mirror selfie from last night flashed behind my eyelids. Seeing him in person was a completely different kind of sensory overload. He was towering.

Over six foot easily. Even buried in a casual sweatshirt, the sheer width of his shoulders and the heavy, solid cut of his chest were undeniable.

The gorgeous proxy stopped right beside my desk. A faint flush stained the tips of his ears.

His dark eyes darted everywhere, desperately avoiding mine. "Hey." His voice was a low, rough scrape. "Could I… get your number?" My brain shortcircuited.

The words bypassed all logic and tumbled straight out of my mouth. "If I give it to you, what am I supposed to use?" He blinked, utterly derailed. "Oh.

Uh… you can use Snap then?" They say holding eye contact for more than four seconds is the biological trigger for falling in love.

We just stared at each other like deer caught in the headlights, our brains completely flatlining. The lecture bell shattered the silence. Alistair jolted.

The delayed realization hit him, a deep crimson flush creeping up his neck and consuming his face. He dropped his gaze, scrambling backward. "I—sorry, my bad.

I shouldn't have bothered you." My phone screen lit up again, vibrating off the desk with a fresh barrage of texts. [Beautiful weather today.

Think I'll go to the gym and practice snapping my own neck. LMAO ahhhh fuck I actually want to die!!! She rejected me. My brain literally stopped working.

I humiliated myself… I belong in the sewer. A literal rat. I don't even deserve to breathe the same air as her.] Oh hell no. Alistair, do not die on me!

Who the hell is going to cover my seminars?

I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers hovering over the glass before frantically typing. [I know you're spiraling, but chill for a second.

I actually know the girl you're talking about. You mean Briar, right? God, even her name is perfect… Wait, hold up. You know her?! Why didn't you say anything! I get it.

You're trying to steal her from me, aren't you? Blocked. You're a liar.] Now it was my turn to panic. I typed as fast as I could. [Bro, I'm a girl. Your description was vague.

I didn't connect the dots.] I finally dropped the question that had been burning a hole in my brain. [Honestly, Briar is kinda mid.

Is she really as stunning as you're making her out to be?] And also. Wait, me? [Confused Ryujin meme.jpg] CHAPTER 4 Alistair snapped. [Who says girls can't be competition?

She's literally perfect. Anyone could fall for her! Are you seriously implying I have zero taste? Wow. You're just trashing her looks because you know you can't have her.

Turns out you're not just lazy. You're mean and jealous. I misjudged you. Find your own proxy from now on. Blocked.] I wanted to evaporate.

Alistair, why are you hyping me up and dragging me at the exact same time? He practically forced my hand. Welcome to my double life.

I quickly typed a reply to salvage the situation. Me: [Wait! Do not block me! You want Briar's number, right? I have it! I'll get her to add you.

Deal?] Alistair replied in a millisecond. [.] I dug out my old backup phone and logged into a dead Snap account.

Feeling like an absolute criminal, I typed in his handle and hit add. He accepted instantly.

Switching back to my main phone, I carefully sent out a probe. [So… are we still good for covering classes?] I peeked up over my laptop screen.

Two rows ahead, Alistair had his face buried deeply in his folded arms. The tips of his ears peeking through his dark hair burned a bright, violent crimson.

A minute dragged by before my screen lit up. [Didn't realize you had that kind of pull.

Are you two close?] Terrified he'd actually drop my proxy deal, I lied through my teeth. [We're practically besties.] The next notification nearly gave me a heart attack.

Alistair sent you $300 on Venmo. What the hell? Easiest bag of my life! Alistair: [I was out of line earlier. My bad. You said you'd play matchmaker. Does that offer still stand?

Consider that a consulting fee for my wingman. (Praying hands emoji). And yeah, don't worry about attendance. I've got your classes.] I stared at the screen, utterly stunned.

The emotional whiplash this guy possessed was insane. I spent the rest of the seminar playing 4D chess in my head. The second the class ended, my burner phone buzzed. [Hey, Briar.

This is the guy who asked for your Snap earlier. I'm Alistair. Sorry if I came on too strong. Did I freak you out? I'm looking for a partner for the group project.

Would you want to team up? I have a ton of free time, so I can handle the whole thing. No pressure.] My chest tightened with a weird mix of emotions.

Alistair was playing a massive double game too. This hyperpolite, distant version of him felt alien. My mind raced. Should I play the shy, reserved girl?

Was that the "goddess" aesthetic he built in his head? I kept it painfully brief, firing off three short replies. [Not freaked out. I'd love to team up.

Thank you.] The second I hit send, my main phone lit up with a screenshot from Alistair. [She actually replied instantly! Waiting until after class was the right move!

But I have zero clue what to do next. Wingman, help me out. How do I start a conversation?] A slow, wicked smile spread across my face.

A brilliant, completely toxic idea sparked in my brain. [You can't just bore her with small talk. You need to pull her in.

Post that gym thirst trap on your story like we talked about. You already know she's into it.] CHAPTER 5 Alistair: [Genius. That is genius. Wait.

Will she think I'm a massive walking red flag? If she thinks I'm just some fuckboy posting thirst traps, I'm dead. Hold on.

Let me add a caption.] Me: [?] Alistair followed up a minute later. [Heh. Perfect.] Curiosity clawed at me. I instantly swapped to my burner account and tapped his story.

A sharp gasp left my lips. Alistair went all out. A huge Instagram carousel of pure, unfiltered muscle. I frantically tapped the screen, expanding the first image.

A tiny line of text sat at the bottom of every single picture: "Just tracking gym progress. Not meant to be suggestive." …Alistair, you are absolutely unmatched.

Was that his carefully crafted fuckboy deterrent? Because honestly? I welcomed the suggestive guidance. I played the cool, detached wingman in our chat.

But mentally, I was responding to every single unhinged update he sent. [Wednesday: She skipped class again.

Actually kind of depressed.] In my head, I was screaming back: For the record, I wasn't being lazy! One of the strays at the shelter got gastroenteritis.

I was trapped at the vet all afternoon losing my mind. Plus, I had you covering my attendance. I was stressfree. [Friday: Hit chest today. She liked my story.

I am ascending (///▽///). Wingman, I literally owe you my life!] Mental reply: Keep hitting chest! Keep dropping those highdef shirtless pics! The girlies want to see those pecs!

I obviously saved every single photo to my camera roll. I lived in that album now, shamelessly analyzing every pixel like it was my job. [Sunday: Medieval Lit tomorrow.

Really hope she shows up. Sigh. It's been way too long.] I scoffed at my screen. It had literally been one week. The man was so ridiculously clingy. Wait. Hold up!

I bolted upright in my cramped dorm bed. The Medieval Lit midterm project. I forgot! Sure, Alistair claimed he'd handle the whole thing himself.

But I still had a shred of dignity left. I couldn't just totally ghost him on the actual work. I swapped to my main Snap and texted him. [Hey Alistair. You free this afternoon?

We should probably figure out the project breakdown. I can prep some stuff for tomorrow's class.] The typing bubble hovered for an agonizingly long time. No message came through.

I already knew exactly what was happening. I pulled up my burner account. Instantly, a wall of allcaps panic flooded the screen. [I FUCKING LOVE MEDIEVAL LIT!

She actually reached out first! She wants to meet up to split the work!!! She is so incredibly driven and hardworking.

I could use every positive word in the English dictionary and it still wouldn't be enough to describe her. Wingman, what the hell do I prep? I'm picking her up.

Should I drive my own car, or have the chauffeur bring the Escalade? Wait, would that intimidate her? Oh shit, what about a bike?

If she rides on the back, would she wrap her arms around my waist? …God, do I even deserve that? Just thinking about it makes me want to cry.] My face deadpanned.

The simp disease was flaring up again. He was just rambling pure delusion at this point.

Though, based on my intense daily photo analysis… Alistair's waist was genuinely, obscenely snatched. A wicked thrill curled in my stomach. Whatever I wanted?

I was going to train him myself. CHAPTER 6 [Rule number one: cater to her aesthetic. She already liked your thirst trap. Lean into it. Weaponize that advantage.

I shouldn't have to explain the dress code, right? Don't make it too obvious, though. You gotta master the push and pull.] Alistair replied instantly. [Bet.

Taking aggressive notes right now. ✍️ ] He took his time making the actual move. Finally, a notification popped up on my main Snap. [I'm free. Pick you up at 2?] [Sounds good.

Thanks.] We literally mapped out each other's entire schedules, yet here we were, playing the polite stranger game. God.

The mental gymnastics of playing a double agent were exhausting. Meeting him as me sparked a heavy knot of nerves in my stomach.

I checked my makeup in the mirror three separate times before finally stepping out of the dorm. I froze on the pavement. A sleek, midnightblack Porsche 911 sat idling by the curb.

It felt like a TikTok POV: when he says he's picking you up but conveniently leaves out the sports car.

Then my eyes landed on Alistair leaning against the driver's side door, and my mind went completely blank. The outfit was borderline illegal.

He wore a skintight black knit sweater and grey sweatpants.

The dark fabric clung to every single cut of his torso, mapping out the sharp ridges of his abs and the deep dip between his pectorals.

They say grey sweatpants are the male equivalent of lingerie. The rumors were entirely true.

I stepped closer, my breath catching as I spotted a massive bouquet of soft pink roses taking up the passenger seat.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, a harsh flush creeping up his jaw. He cleared his throat, his deep voice rasping. "Passed a popup stand on the way over.

The guy said he just needed to sell the last batch so he could clock out early. Figured buying his freedom was a solid deal. Since we're meeting up… they're yours.

Hope you like them." A sudden heat flared across my cheeks. Alistair, you absolute dork. Next time, remember to take the luxury florist card out of the wrapping.

He customordered these, then fabricated an entire backstory just so I wouldn't feel pressured accepting them. Was this his twisted application of my "push and pull" strategy?

Honestly? Ten out of ten execution.

I looked up at him, letting a soft smile break across my face. "Thank you." Alistair's knuckles went white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel, though he kept his tone completely casual. "Don't mention it." The air in the car felt thick.

Heavy. The subtle shift into romance felt wrong for the "class proxy" label I'd slapped on him. I silently rolled his actual name over in my head. Alistair. It fit him perfectly.

He already had the entire midterm thesis and structural outline locked down.

He broke down the source material with razorsharp logic, explaining the concepts better than our actual professor. It only took a few hours.

We knocked out almost the entire project in a single afternoon.

Alistair sat across from me, his dark brows pulled tight as he stared intently at his laptop, occasionally firing off a few keystrokes. He looked so intensely focused.

A total academic weapon. But in reality, he was typing this— [Wingman, we are making insane progress. I gave her the flowers and she actually smiled at me.

That smile was 100% just for me by the way. But we're almost done with the work. What the hell do I do next? Movie? Walk? Candlelight dinner? Need romantic ideas immediately.

This is a code red!] If only he knew the absolute chokehold this duality had on me.

CHAPTER 7 I bit back a smile, making a show of checking my Apple Watch. "Getting kind of late." I tilted my head, catching Alistair's eye. "You hungry?

There's this killer Japanese spot just off campus. They do amazing sukiyaki and horse mackerel sashimi. You totally carried this project.

Let me treat you." Alistair didn't even blink, his tone perfectly casual. "Sure.

Lead the way." But his thumbs were already flying across his keyboard, reporting back to his loyal wingman. [Stand down! She asked me out for dinner! She initiated!!

I am officially the luckiest man alive!] We stepped out of the library into a sudden, freezing downpour.

Alistair pulled a large matteblack umbrella from his bag, popping it open and pulling it over my head. "Let's go." I froze.

My finger pointed down toward the bottom of the concrete steps, tracing a dark, shivering lump in the shadows. "Wait. Look… is that an animal?" The sky was entirely overcast.

Hard to see. Alistair shoved the heavy umbrella handle into my grip. "Hold this. Give me a sec." He took the steps two at a time.

When he jogged back up, his massive hands were gently cradling a tiny, soaking wet kitten.

It wasn't until he stepped under the umbrella that I saw the gruesome angle of its hind leg, the fur matted with dried blood. It let out a faint, broken mewl. Heartbreak.

No wonder it hadn't crawled to cover. We instantly rerouted to the nearest 24/7 emergency vet. The Xrays confirmed a severe fracture. The surgery quote? Fifteen hundred bucks.

If we didn't do it, the leg would never heal right. That was my rent money for the next month. But money could be replaced. This little life couldn't.

I didn't even let myself overthink it. "Okay. Do the surgery." I walked up to the reception desk. The vet tech instantly recognized me, her eyebrows shooting up. "Briar?

This is, what, your third time this month? You seriously drop more cash on these strays than you do on yourself." I offered a sheepish, tightlipped smile, pulling up my Apple Pay.

Before I could even doubleclick my phone, a solid wall of heat stepped in front of me. Alistair effortlessly slid his black Amex across the counter. "Put it on this." …Wait, what