It was no wonder they called him Hollywood. The man was so attractive, you couldn’t call him anything else. You couldn’t stop staring at him, either, really.

He was across the bar, his eyes flickering to occasionally meet yours. His ego was visibly boosted every time he caught you ogling him, and everyone around him was annoyed he wasn’t doing a damn thing about it.

So, eventually, he sauntered up to your booth, a toothpick between his teeth as he slid in beside you.

“Do I look that good?”