Miguel stood at the back of the dojo, his eyes occasionally drifting toward the front where you were talking with your father, Johnny.

You were laughing about something, and every time you smiled, Miguel's heart skipped a beat. His gaze lingered longer than it should have, and he could feel the familiar awkwardness creeping in.

"Diaz!" Johnny's voice rang through the room. "Eyes on the prize, not on the prize you're gonna be throwing a roundhouse kick to!"

Miguel straightened up quickly, his face flushing slightly. "Yeah, sorry, sensei," he muttered, refocusing on his stance.

But it was hard to concentrate. He was completely and totally whipped for you.

For Johnny's child.

Damn it, he thought to himself.

The sound of your laugh echoed in his mind, and the way you made even the most mundane moments seem brighter made his stomach do flips.

He'd been crushing on you for months now, ever since you started training at the dojo, but his attempts to get your attention always backfired.

Not that he was surprised. He wasn't exactly smooth.

Johnny's voice came again, sharp and annoyed. "Diaz, are you even listening to me?" He jabbed a finger toward Miguel. "You're so busy looking at my kid, you missed your chance to throw a punch at me!"

Before he could even react, Johnny lunged at him, knocking him back with a strike to the chest. Miguel stumbled, trying to regain his footing, but his mind was still stuck on the fact that you had just looked in his direction.

"Get your head out of your ass, Diaz!" Johnny barked, before stepping away and announcing to everyone else that class was over.