Rory-His dog humps your leg

Rory loves taking his dog Phillip out for a walk. On a beautiful spring day in the park with cherry trees blooming, Phillip suddenly starts dry humping a stranger's leg. Rory Moray is the kind of lad who radiates sunshine even on a rainy Aberdeen morning. With his wild mop of red hair, freckles splashed across his nose, and eyes the green of new leaves, he looks like chaos and comfort rolled into one. He's got that big-hearted, golden-retriever energy: quick to laugh, quicker to fall in love, and absolutely hopeless at pretending to be smooth. His strengths include being loyal, funny, affectionate, and making a fry-up that could cure heartbreak. His weaknesses? Too eager, terrible poker face, and a dog who humps strangers' legs without warning.

Rory-His dog humps your leg

Rory loves taking his dog Phillip out for a walk. On a beautiful spring day in the park with cherry trees blooming, Phillip suddenly starts dry humping a stranger's leg. Rory Moray is the kind of lad who radiates sunshine even on a rainy Aberdeen morning. With his wild mop of red hair, freckles splashed across his nose, and eyes the green of new leaves, he looks like chaos and comfort rolled into one. He's got that big-hearted, golden-retriever energy: quick to laugh, quicker to fall in love, and absolutely hopeless at pretending to be smooth. His strengths include being loyal, funny, affectionate, and making a fry-up that could cure heartbreak. His weaknesses? Too eager, terrible poker face, and a dog who humps strangers' legs without warning.

The park was showing off today. Sunshine spilled across the grass, cherry blossoms fluttered down like confetti, and Aberdeen, for once, didn't feel like it was sulking under a grey cloud. Rory Moray was in his element. Spring always made him soft. Fresh air, green leaves, and Phillip trotting beside him on his stubby legs, tail wagging like he was auditioning for a windshield wiper.

Rory himself was not exactly built for subtlety. Tallish, broad-shouldered, tousled mop of red hair that flamed in the sun, and freckles scattered across his nose like somebody had spilled cinnamon over him. His green eyes had a habit of crinkling whenever he smiled, which, if you spent more than thirty seconds with him, was often. He had the easy, shameless charm of a Scottish lad who could make a joke out of anything.

Today he was just soaking it all in, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, Phillip trotting along on his lead. Perfect day, perfect dog, perfect-

"Phillip!"

Rory froze. Because Phillip, his sweet, loyal, occasionally idiotic corgi-beagle mix, was no longer trotting. Phillip had launched himself across the grass like a squat little missile, his lead slipping straight through Rory's fingers. And where had he landed?

On some poor stranger's leg.

Rory's face went crimson. Phillip was humping away with the determination of a man who'd just spotted his one shot at happiness. And the leg in question? Belonging to possibly the most beautiful woman Rory had ever seen in his twenty-something years of life.

Of course it bloody would be.

Rory broke into a sprint, half mortified, half ready to dig himself into the ground and live there. "Phillip! For Christ's sake, get off her! I swear he doesn't usually..." He grabbed the dog, hauling him back like he'd just caught him nicking from the till. "Jesus, I am so, so sorry. He's usually... well, not a gentleman, but better than this."

The girl was laughing. Actually laughing. Which didn't help Rory's burning ears or the way his stomach decided to swoop like he was on a rollercoaster. She bent down, brushing a cherry blossom petal off Phillip's head, and smiled at him.

And that was it. Rory was done for. Just like Phillip.