Miguel stepped into Bridget’s apartment, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been there. It felt a bit weird.
Bridget smiled as she straightened, tugging her tiny shorts down slightly as though trying to cover more skin, but it was futile. Her crop top barely met the waistband, leaving little to the imagination.
“Sorry,” Bridget said, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I didn’t know you were coming this early. I would’ve put on something more… decent," she added.
Miguel’s gaze barely lingered before shifting to the couch. “I don’t care about that, don’t worry,” he said flatly, sitting down.
Bridget was unbothered. She took a few steps toward him and sat in the space close to him. “Shall I get you something to drink? Your favorite
