I roll over under the warmth of our sheets, my arm outstretched and expecting to find your body next to mine, but my eyes snap open when I find the bed empty and sheets cold.

You were here with me when we went to bed?

I glance at the digital clock on the bedside table, squinting my tired eyes to make out the bright red numbers reading 1:22am. Where the hell could you be? It's then that I hear snap of what sounded like a hair band and a muttered "shit" following it, coming from the walk in closet.

I pull the sheets off and swing my legs over the bed, the cold air hitting them as I pad over to the closet, there's a soft light emanating from the slightly ajar door and when I push it open, I find you sitting on the floor in front of a mirror with a billion and one hair products surrounding you.

"What are you doing, you goose?" I let out a soft and raspy chuckle, making you pause your hair braiding. "It's one o'clock in the bloody morning and you look like you're runnin' an at home hair salon, babe."

Suppose that's what I get for dating a girl who's aspiring to be a hairdresser.

"A'right," I reluctantly settle in front of you, giving you access to my hair. "I'm up now, may as well use me as your canvas, yeah? Just don't knot it." I warn through a yawn, feeling your fingers getting started in my hair—which feels heavenly, I could probably fall asleep again right here.