Give her one!

You kneel in what’s left of the pizza in your haste to get over and give her a proper cuddle.

When Emma has finished crying again, and you’ve rocked her gently and stroked her arms and tucked her hair behind her ears, she finally noticed the tomato smeared across your pants. ‘Oh, shit!’ She laughs guiltily. ‘I’ve made you ruin your nice trousers.’

‘It’s on your dress, too,’ you point out, reasonably. Emma glances down.

‘Oh, bollocks. That’ll never come out.’ It probably won’t; she’s wearing a plain black hoodie over a slinky, glittery little white dress, which now bears the unmistakeable mark of several meatballs. ‘Would you believe this thing cost nearly five grand?’

‘Yes,’ you tell her solemnly. ‘Fashion is ridiculous.’

‘Yep.’ Emma gazes critically at her stained dress. ‘Oh, well. They sent me this one years ago. And I never liked it anyway. Makes my bum look big.’

You chuckle, glad she’s joking again. ‘I bet it looks amazing.’

‘You’d be surprised.’ Emma shakes her head. ‘And I always feel like a fraud wearing this stuff anyway. Everyone’s so gorgeous in Hollywood. They all have perfect teeth and perfect boobs and I always feel so out of place.’

‘Go fuck yourself, you’re stunning,’ you inform her, reaching across to steal the last remaining piece of chicken.

When she doesn’t react, you look up –

And there’s a hard, searing, charged look in her eyes.

When she kisses you, it’s more like being tackled – she falls on top of you, grips the back of your head with her hands and refuses to let you go.

And for a moment, through the shock and the adrenaline and the sudden warmth of her lips on yours, all you can think is –

Sweet holy fuck, I’m kissing Emma Watson!