Secret Admirer
535 Words
He walked into his bedroom, the soft click of the door behind him barely audible over the low hum of music coming from the speakers .The day had been long—meetings, studio sessions, calls with his team—but now he could finally drop into his own space. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch, and sank into the leather chair with a slow, deliberate exhale.
“Yeah, I’m back “ he said into the phone. Voice calm, controlled. “Tell ‘em I’ll look at it tomorrow”
A pause. A smirk tugged at his lips.
“Nah, not tonight”
He ended the call and let his head fall back for a second, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere behind him, water was still running—his girlfriend was in the bathroom, music low, unbothered.
He reached for his phone, not thinking much of it, just muscle memory.
Then from the bathroom, her voice sounded “Baby? Is that you?”
“Yeah” he answered
His attention shifted back to his phone. Scroll. Refresh. Scroll again.
Then her face appeared on his screen.
He stilled.
It wasn’t deliberate. No search. No curiosity clicked into place on purpose. Just algorithm doing what it did best—placing her right there, framed in soft light, standing tall in a pair of heels she designed herself.
He straightened slightly, thumb hovering before scrolling again. Another photo loaded. Different angle, same confidence. Same authenticity in the way she carried herself. His lips curled, slow and knowing.
“I know you” he murmured to himself. A smirk settling in.
Keira Ortiz.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her—standing by his sister in that boutique surrounded by shoes that looked like art. He hadn’t said much then. Just watched . Listened. Admired. A growing designer, they’d said. Young. Brilliant. Untouchable in that effortless way.
Now here she was again.
He scrolled once more. A paparazzi picture. Unexpected. Unplanned. But she still looked radiant. The way she dressed—not loud, not begging for attention, but magnetic in anyway.
He leaned back, eyes tracing the screen, her face, her curves, her smile, he was studying her like a rhythm he wanted to understand.
“You smiling at your phone now?”
Her voice broke through the moment.
He glanced up as his girlfriend stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a robe, towel twisted around her hair. He didn’t rush to lock the phone. Didn’t flinch.
“Something funny” he said easily
She walked closer, peering over his shoulder, but he’d already tilted the screen down, thumb flicking away like nothing mattered. She shrugged, unbothered, reaching for her bag instead.
His attention drifted back to the phone once she turned away.
One last look.
His smirk returned—not loud, not obvious . Just a quiet curve of interest. Recognition. Memory.
He locked the screen and set the phone face down on the table then he stood from the couch.
“Bae, how your day went?”he asked his girlfriend
“Good baby” she responded “and yours?”
Some things, he thought. Were better left unspoken.
For now.
- Writer
