“You’re cold.” “I wonder why.” I hear more than see as he sits up a little, looking down at himself all wrapped up in my blanket like the blanket hog he is. “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry, his morning voice lightly tempered in a lazy smile I can hear without having to look at him. But then I do see it. I’m forced to look at him and his sleep-addled features barely visible in the early morning light coming through my sheer curtains, his full lips tilted in a crooked grin as he leans over me and stretches before promptly laying his head on my bare chest, covering the both of us in my blanket
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