Say you missed touching me and I’ll plan how to fix that tonight.

I can’t stop picturing your scarf tangled with mine after we forget to part.

Knock twice and come in; I promise I won’t be fully dressed.

I keep imagining the warmth of your forehead against mine right now.

I haven’t stopped replaying the way you read that line from the book.

I want the kind of kiss that makes us both laugh afterward.

Leave me a voice note saying my name slowly; I’ll keep it on loop.

Tell me what you’d do if you had me alone for thirty minutes.

I miss how your shirt smells; borrow it and leave it at my place.

I’m sitting here imagining your breath on my neck and it’s ruining my focus.

Wear those boots tomorrow and let me watch you walk into the room.

Text me a single word right now that makes me drop everything and come.

Put your phone away and come over; I need you nearer than text tonight.

Tell me you’ll knock on my door at midnight and I’ll leave it unlocked.

I keep replaying your whispered question from the sofa and it makes me restless.

Your laugh stuck in my ear is a slow burn I can't shake off.

I want the low, deliberate way you say my nickname when no one's near.

Your scent on the pillow is a low, persistent wanting I didn't invite.

My day narrows down to the moment I can lean into you again.

The memory of your scarf left on my chair has become my current obsession.

I keep imagining your laugh right behind me and it tightens everything.

My mind keeps going back to the scratch on your knuckle from last week.

That chipped mug you use is the image I scroll to between meetings.

If you wear that sweater I might invent reasons to keep it there.

Slide your phone this way and I’ll draft a plan that excludes chores.

I’ve sharpened my wit and I’m allowed to use it on you tonight.

Leave your keys on the table and your plans at the door.

Hide the cookies and I’ll hide you under better reasons to stay.

Bring that ridiculous hat; I need it for a very serious scheme.

Your scarf is now a treaty of distractions; sign with a kiss.

Tell me one small lie and I’ll invent a more fun truth.

You owe me five minutes and one ridiculous favor, collect them tonight.

I have plans for you and none of them involve leaving this couch.

I’ll insist on reading your messages aloud if you keep making that face.

Slide the pizza box my way and I’ll slide a better idea back.

I’m making a rule: any excuse you have is automatically banned tonight.

Bring the red pen; I have edits for your schedule that include me.

Leave the lights off and the door unlocked for my bad decisions.

No spoilers for the film — I plan to provide my own plot twists.

I saw your left shoe by the door and now it’s an invitation.