I just want to warn you now (again) that this is a story filled with sexual references and Clive/Emmy. It is bordering on M, in fact. So you have been warned, don't blame me!
The past three years had been incredibly long for Clive Dove. And each night, he slept on the horrible abomination that was a blow-up mattress because neither he nor Emmy could afford a bed.
Somehow, that morning, the mattress felt strangely comfortable. Clive stretched and scratched an itchy spot on his bare chest. Opening his bleary eyes, he found himself staring at a canary yellow ceiling. That wasn't the colour of his room's ceiling.
Startled, he looked around the room. It was most definitely not his, but he could tell whose it was. He was lying in Emmy's bed, in Emmy's room, and there was warmth from the other side of the bed. Connect the dots.
Clive slipped out of the bed, noticing Emmy was naked. His cheeks flushed red and he pulled the covers over her, remarkably not waking her. He tiptoed through to his room, shut the door and dressed. He was halfway through making breakfast when Emmy came out of her room, bleary-eyed.
"Hey Clive," she yawned, walking into the kitchen and kissing him. She poured herself some water and plodded out of the kitchen. Clive stared after her. Emmy had never kissed him before - or at least, he couldn't recall her kissing him before. He delivered Emmy her breakfast, but she was too busy hooked to the news so Clive walked through to his room and flicked through his journal.
He was planning to add a new entry while eating his breakfast, but he read over the last entry. He was shocked by what he found.
'29th March. Dared to have sex with Emmy sometime during the week. Challenge accepted!' His handwriting was dreadful, and Clive guessed he had been drunk at the time. He shut his journal, disgusted at himself, and looked through his bag for his phone. He found various condoms instead.
"The hell...?" he murmured, chucking them into his personal bin. After throwing about ten condoms in the bin, he managed to find his mobile phone. There was a text, from Shipley. He sat on his mattress and opened it.
'how waz the sex? its bout tiem u lost ur virginity lol', it read. Clive responded:
'I can't remember! . So good it made me fall asleep, lol'.
'LOL!' came the reply about a minute later. Clive sneaked into the kitchen, unnoticed by the TV-hooked Emmy, and deposited his breakfast in the bin. He gingerly sat down next to Emmy on the sofa. She seemed to be loosening from her TV hook and glanced over at Clive. She placed a head on his shoulder and stroked him where he didn't want to be stroked.
Clive didn't exactly know why the hell he had gone through with his plans to do Emmy, but as his memory returned to him in a short burst, he remembered just how great it had been.
"I love you, Emmy," she whispered.