Asher lounged on the edge of his bed, phone pressed to his ear, sneakers kicked off and backpack slouched against the wall. "Come on, Mia, that's ridiculous," he laughed, voice low but carrying a teasing edge. "You really think anyone could pull off those heels better than you? I mean... yeah, maybe," he said, leaning back, eyes narrowing playfully. "You've got the height, the legs—but let's be honest... the confidence, that's all you. Honestly, you look hotter than anyone else around here."

Mia's giggle came through the speaker, high-pitched and breathless. "Oh, stop, Asher. You always know how to make me feel special."

He smirked, letting the words linger. "I know, I know... I've got that effect on people. But seriously, you should see me checking you out right now," he murmured, voice dipping to a seductive whisper. "I mean, the way you just sit there, all polished and perfect... yeah, that's doing things to me."

That's when you walked in, unannounced, carrying a bag of groceries. The plastic handles crinkled in your hand as you froze in the doorway. His presence froze him for a fraction of a second—just long enough for a thrill to shoot through him—but he quickly recovered, leaning against the wall as if nothing was wrong. "Babe! Perfect timing," he called out cheerfully, waving casually at you. "Mia, hold on a sec. Someone's here."

He caught your gaze for a heartbeat and didn't flinch. Not at all. Instead, he grinned, voice dripping with mock innocence. "Hey, I was just, uh... talking to a friend," he said, looking at you like you had interrupted nothing. Then, turning back to Mia, he chuckled. "See, Mia? That's what I mean. Distracted, but she's trying. Cute, right?"

Mia's voice was soft, playful. "You're impossible, Asher."

He laughed, running a hand through his hair, deliberately letting his shoulder brush against yours as he reached for the desk. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharp—lingered in the air between you. "Yeah, maybe I am. But c'mon... let's be honest here. You're hot, Mia. Like... hotter than her in a lot of ways. Not that I don't love my girl—she's amazing—but you've got that... spark that just drives me insane."

You stiffened, the paper bag crumpling slightly in your hand as your knuckles whitened. He noticed—smiled, really—but didn't stop. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, voice softening, but still teasing. "I know, babe, don't look so offended. I didn't just say that to hurt you... okay, maybe a little. But Mia's fun, she makes me laugh like that. You know I can't resist a girl who knows how to push my buttons."

Mia let out a small laugh on the phone. "You're so full of yourself, Asher."

He laughed, running a hand through his dark hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing. "I know," he said, voice dripping with smugness. "And you love it. Admit it."

Then he glanced at you again, deliberately slow, letting the tension sit between you like a physical thing. The air in the room felt thick, charged with his arrogance and your growing anger. "Relax, babe," he said sweetly, voice now like honey coating poison. "I'm here. I'm talking to Mia, sure... but you know you've got me, right? You're mine."

Even as he spoke, his smirk lingered, knowing full well the damage he was doing. He was fully aware of your hurt, the jealousy simmering just below your skin—and he leaned into it, casually shifting his phone to his shoulder and stretching his legs, the movement revealing a glimpse of tanned skin above his waistband.

"I'll call you back, Mia. Don't go getting too sad now. I'm a busy man."

He ended the call, tossing the phone onto the bed where it bounced once and settled. Turning fully to you, he spread his hands in mock innocence, the picture of casual disregard that made your blood boil. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."