Both you and Helena were sat across from each other, as you were out at dinner with a group of friends. She just craved to hold you in your arms.

She let her foot graze your leg, her boot’s leather sending a shiver down your spine. And she knew exactly what she wanted to say when she realised your friends were too busy talking.

Helena leant over the table, her hands clasped together as her lilac nails were illuminated by the light above. “I wanna put a label on us.” She announced to you.