As Zane speaks, I find myself drawn to the movement of his lips, the small action intriguing me. Their soft skin bounce against each other with every heavy word he utters.
I rest my elbow in my palm, my wide eyes fixed on Zane. I’m the background, the coffee shop’s loud chatter interrupts our conversation. However, my ears could only catch the voice of Zane amidst the noise.
My inquisitive eyes trace the contours of his face. They drift from his strong jawline to the subtle curve of his nose. How do these people achieve such grace and beauty? And those captivating lips. Gosh, it’s unfair.
I know I’m not the only one attracted to this kind of beauty. I could hear faint whispers and giggles from the girls sitting at the table from across us.
And from my peripheral vision, they curse and
