“Okay, it’s gonna be a little crazy out here..” I warn you, my hand subconsciously sliding down to yours and I intertwine our fingers. I don’t even know why I did it.

We met a few weeks ago, you’re a model and I’ve recently understood exactly why. Excuse my French, but you’re fucking stunning. Everything about you, head to toe. Something about you just makes me want to drown in that Victoria Secret spray you use every time I see you.

I quickly lead you to my black Range Rover, opening the door for you before running to my side of the car without getting blinded by the amount of flashes. These pictures are definitely being uploaded to the media, me holding your hand and opening the car door for you? God forbid a man is respectful.

We get to my hotel room, I don’t plan on doing anything with you. I just like your presence, I’d love to get to know you a little more. I open my phone and regretfully tapping ‘Twitter’, watching my feed flood with tweets of people saying that we look great together, straight up speculating a relationship already.

I let out a little chuckle and you look at me, I look up from my phone to catch your gaze. Those eyes.. “Twitter is going crazy.” I comment, handing you my phone so you can see the posts.