Weekends are supposed be spent naked next to a tattooed redhead...

You already know a weekend next to a tattooed redhead is the only way time should pass.

You trace the ink across warm skin, each design pulling your eyes lower, slower, until you forget what day it is entirely. You feel the heat radiating off every curve before you even make contact, your hands moving like they already know the geography by heart.

You stay exactly where you are, nowhere else mattering, the afternoon light doing nothing but making everything look more worth touching. You were never leaving anyway.