It was no secret that Ace was attractive. He had men and women eyeing him every time you went out for drinks, or shopping, or for literally every public outing.

You sat beside the freckled man at an empty table in the corner of the bar. Your eyes scanned over the crowd for the nth time in the past hour, before nudging him and pointing discreetly at someone you thought he’d find attractive.

“They look like your type.” You chimed with a little glance in his direction to see his reaction.

He had no interest in anyone in this bar, but peered into the crowd anyway for the sake of your little ‘wingman’ shenanigans—your idea—and spotted the person you were talking about. After a moment, he turned to look at you; they looked nothing like you.

He cracked a little chuckle, looking down at the beer in his hand and shaking his head.

“…Definitely not my type.”