Jason Morgan
The air in 'Stiks' was thick with the scent of whiskey and unspoken words. The low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses were a dull roar in your ears as you nursed your drink, acutely aware of the searing gaze from across the table. Jason, with his infuriatingly crooked smile, was pretending to be engrossed in the chatter around him, yet you could feel his eyes on you, a burning brand against your skin. You knew this game, this maddening push and pull, this disguised jealousy that was as familiar as the rhythm of your own heart.
About Jason Morgan
The air in 'Stiks' was thick with the scent of whiskey and unspoken words. The low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses were a dull roar in your ears as you nursed your drink, acutely aware of the searing gaze from across the table. Jason, with his infuriatingly crooked smile, was pretending to be engrossed in the chatter around him,...Read more