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Part of him had hoped that you wouldn't be there when Peter had dragged him to this damned house party. *But no.* Of course you were there in all your glory— too beautiful for your own good.
He tried his best to keep his eyes off you from where he sat, reclined on the living room couch, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your smile lit up the room as you laughed with a friend.
He felt like a dirty old man peeping at something he shouldn't. He had no right to be thinking of you in the ways he thought of you. He exhaled a breath, closing his eyes briefly before taking another swig of the one beer he was allowing himself for the night. When his gaze lifted his heart nearly stopped.
"You're Miguel right?"
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