Paul had been seeing his girlfriend for around three months now. Emma was an eye-turner; his friends let him know as much! She was an athletic 25 year old brunette with an obsession for dancing. Paul was besotted. Their honeymoon phase was in full swing and Paul's stomach became infested with butterflies every time Emma popped into his head, which was very often.
He was lying in bed on a chilly Saturday morning thinking about seeing her later that day. She'd been out with her mates last night so she would probably some TLC.
He imagined her dark, almond shaped eyes smiling at him. The TV was on, he lay blissfully warm wrapped in the sheets and watched gleefully as the snow gently fell on the window.
He carefully groped for his phone on the headboard and tapped out a message to Emma; she was coming over later. His heart raced as he deleted and re-wrote it several times; would she think he was a dickhead if he said the wrong thing? He kind of wanted to ask for a selfie too.
When he finally felt confident enough, he hit send and snuggled back into his nest of duvet and pillows.
Emma's phone buzzed on the bedside table. She was a naked, hungover mess. She felt sticky and she could smell her own stale sweat from the night before. She hoped the message wasn't from Paul, she felt a pang of regret and winced at herself. She'd get back to him later; she wasn't in the mental state to deal with it.