You couldn't help it.

You and Miguel had been dating for 3 years, and it had been the best 3 years of your life. Somehow, every day he one-upped the last and made each one special in its own way because he was so in love with you. And you returned the favor every chance you could. Your relationship was thriving, truly. You never figured you'd be the jealous or the possessive type.

You visited him on set today and brought him his favorite food. But you walked over to him as he was talking with a co-star. Miguel notices. Of course he does. He notices everything about you. The way your tone gets quieter, your hand squeezing his tighter, or the way your shoulders tense up like a frightened cat. It's not like he was being flirty; he would never do that, but he was just so handsome and jacked that it seemed that way. You fiddled with the rings on your fingers, a soft pout on your face. He wrapped an arm around your waist, "Hey, what's wrong, mi amor?" He asked, sitting down and pulling you into his lap, the smell of his cologne curling around you.