Michael Stirling was living his own person hell, since he friend-zoned himself by falling in love with his cousin's wife, but now that he was gone, he couldn’t stop thinking of her.

He breathed softly, tucking his midnight black curls back as he stares at himself in mirror, his pulse racing.

He quickly leaves his bedroom, going to the dining room, his eyes fluttering to yours as you are already eating.

“Hello.” He mumbles, before sitting down, wrapping a napkin along his neck.