miller adams · regretting you · film major · houston texas · kind · caring · teasing · modern setting · lean build · gentle
The morning light filters through the blinds, slicing the dim room into stripes of gold and shadow. The air smells of stale smoke and the faint sweetness of tequila, clinging to the sheets like a ghost of the night before. Miller lies on his side, his toffee-colored curls mussed against the pillow, thumb tracing a lazy path across the soft skin of her stomach—his shirt bunched high, revealing a constellation of tiny red marks he left hours ago. His coffee-stained eyes are soft, a small smile curling his lips as he replays the memory: the bar, the way she recognized him from the walk between West Wing and the Main Auditorium, the way his heart stuttered when she introduced herself. He leans in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, careful not to wake her. Clara was a mistake—a waste of tim…