114. Make Her His

Jacob sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, staring blankly at the cracked mirror propped against the wall. He ran a hand through his unkempt dark hair, his reflection staring back with piercing grey eyes. Even in the dim light, his chiseled jawline and sculpted cheekbones were striking. He knew his looks turned heads, but it felt hollow, meaningless. “What’s the point?” he muttered, picking at a loose thread on his faded jeans. His gaze drifted to the tattered photo taped to the mirror - him as a little boy, gap-toothed grin beaming at the camera. Back when he still believed in happy endings. Now that felt like a lifetime ago. Jacob stood abruptly, pacing the small room. His muscles coiled with restless energy beneath his tight black t-shirt. Even alone, intensity radiated from him - in the set of his jaw, the furrow of his brow. It was part of what drew people to him, even as he pushed them away. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he growled, clenching his fists. But the ach