10.

FELIX.

There’s a grin plastered on my face, refusing to be wiped off as I run my hands through my black curls, letting half fall over my forehead while the other half is swiped back.

After arranging my hair, I smooth my hand down my jacket and hum in satisfaction at the reflection that stares back at me. I can’t remember the last time I was in a suit—I don’t think I’ve even ever been in a full one—but I sure love what I look like right now and I give myself a pictorial pat in the back for not making that rebellious random move to dye my hair red because I can’t imagine red eating harder than how my black hair compliments the rest of my fit.

I look fucking delicious. I always do but I look even better in this fitted well-tailored suit that I can’t help but stare longer than necessary in the mirror just to admire myself.

“Someone might think it’s your wedding.” I’m distracted from my self obsession and I chuckle at Lemuel who has his head popped through the bedroom’s door with the r