Written by Emma Perkins.
As she clicked submit, she huffed. Her studies had been failing, Nora had been giving her far too many shifts and most of all, she was missing Paul like crazy. He had gone away with family for a short holiday, but the week had ended up feeling like a month. Paul would be coming home that night, and Emma knew she should freshen up a bit before he was back, but decided she was too lazy.
An hour or so later, the doorknob of their shared room slowly turned and Paul came through the door. Tossing down the book she was certainly not reading, Emma rushed over to him, enveloping him in a hug. Letting him go for a moment, she reached her hands up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss.
Pulling away, Paul smiled. "Hi." He breathed.
"Hello." Emma smiled back.
She helped him bring his luggage in before flopping on the bed again. She pat her hand down next to herself, and Paul took a seat. Emma snuggled in close, taking in a deep breath of his scent which she missed dearly. Although she had worn his sweatshirt almost every day he was gone, it wasn't the same as him in person.
Paul wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in even closer. "So, California was nice." He tried, but Emma just stared ahead.
"God, I missed you." She said.
This bought a soft smile to Paul's face, and she looked up at him. To Emma, he was ridiculously adorable and she couldn't help but gush at him. "No, really. This week was horrid."
"What did you get up to?" He asked, slowly stroking her hair, twisting it around his fingers.
"A lot." She sighed, and looked away. "It was so stressful. So much work to be down, not just at Beanie's, but at school. I've hardly slept without you here, and I'm pretty sure I've eaten enough junk to gain three pounds." Emma stared down at her stomach, which was only slightly bloated, but she felt like a whale.
"I'm so sorry you've been so stressed, Em." Paul said kindly, making sure not to say the wrong thing. At times like this, Emma could take this the wrong way and get quite upset quite quickly.
"Not your fault." She replied grumpily, and stood up abruptly. She walked over to their dresser and grabbed her glass of water from earlier. As she took a long sip, she caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror and almost dropped her drink. As she stared at it wide-eyed, she focused on all her flaws.
All she could see was messy hair, dark eyes, crinkled clothes, and so many more things she could point out. "Oh my god." She whispered. "I'm that ugly?"
"What's that?" Paul asked, looking at her.
Without thinking about it, Emma replied with exactly what she had said. "I'm that ugly?" She asked aloud, before slapping her hand over her mouth, turning towards Paul.
All of the sudden he had risen up from his spot on the bed and practically sprinted over to her, picking her up in one movement. Paul absolutely hated, despised when Emma called herself ugly. "No." He said sternly, bringing her over to the bed. He lay her down gently, before flopping next to her, taking her hand.
"Yeah, I am." She mumbled. "It's not like I'm pretty."
"Excuse me?" He said, turning her chin so they could look at each other. "You are pretty." He kissed her forehead gently, before pulling her close, letting her be the little spoon.
"You sure?" She asked quietly. Emma hiccuped, and Paul knew that meant she had started to cry softly.
As gently as possible, he wiped away her tears and hugged her tightly around the waist. "So sure. So super fucking sure."
Paul couldn't see her face, but he knew this made her smile. "You swore."
"Only for the prettiest." He smirked.
"I hate you."
"Love you more."
"Nope."
