I’ve never been so comfortable in my life.

Usually I’m a bad sleeper. I know I toss and turn because I almost never wake up in the same position I fall asleep in. One minute I’m laying on my bed and the next I’m waking up with half my body on the ground and a sock missing from my foot. No matter the thread count on my sheets or how great the memory on the mattress I’m sleeping in is, I never feel this good. Good enough not to want to wake up even though I’m starting to.

There’s something poking onto my back through, so I turn my body around to get more comfortable. I’m instantly warmer when I nuzzle myself deeper into the pillow that’s half covering me. I’m seriously in love with this pillow. So much I wanna take it home with me. In fact, I’m definitely taking home this warm pillow that’s blocking all the light and smells nice like freshly cut trees. Spice and woodsy, perfect.

The pillow starts moving under me so I slap it hoping it'll stop and get closer to it by wrapping it in my own arms. I’m getting cozier until the pillow starts breathing really hard on the top of my head and so I reach out to cover the air vent. My hand closes around a pyramid shaped thing that’s soft, but not soft enough to be a pillow.

 My eyes pop open.

Then they drift up, wide, towards the thing still in my hand that isn’t a pillow. It’s a nose, and the face it’s attached to is starting to turn purple.

Chace’s limbs spring off my body like I’m in fire, right in sync with my own. His legs untangle themselves from mine, before his hand brushes past my bare back and retreats next to his body. I miss the feel of his legs against mine, which is the worst part of all.

That’s when we both scream.

“Ahhhhhh!” We both yell in sync again. His eyes are as wide as mine if not wider, but then again he’s the one who’s still dressed in flannel pajamas and his Zelda shirt, and I’m the one in my freaking underwear.

I’m still screaming when he decides to stop and accuse me.

 “Were you trying to kill me?” He screams breathlessly. You can still see the imprint of my fingers on the bridge of his nose. He’s looking at me like I’m on a mission to suffocate him.

 “What the hell are you doing in bed with me!” I accuse louder, once I stop screaming.

“Me with you? You’re the one who ended up in my bed!” That’s when I decide to look at my surroundings.

A Star Wars poster tapped on his door stares at me in the face while I try to recover from the shock of spending the night in his bed of all people. Because that’s what I did, I quickly and painfully realize.

We both settle down until the only thing that can be heard throughout the room is our uneven breathing. Neither of us stare at each other. I don’t because I’m still staring at his room in embarrassment. My eyes move too fast before they’re back on my legs still under the comforter. I’m about to meet his eyes when something catches my attention.

“Is that-“ I don’t even finish the sentence because my eyes are trained on the lump from under the bed that he tries to cover with his hand. Putting a whole new meaning to rise and shine, he makes a weird grunting sound before I let out a battle cry.

“Gross!” I yell, before using all of my force to push him off the mattress. I hear his body thump on the floor. I’m too stunned because it was obviously his erection poking me in the back that woke me up. If I wasn’t so grossed out I would have laughed at how funny he looked on his way off the bed. 

Chace shakes the fall off before sitting upright. His bed isn’t very high and the guy is at least six feet, so his head sticks out over the edge of the mattress. His hair is all over the place, not that it’s very long but it’s not a buzz cut either.

I’m still tucked under the covers, but I decide that it’s time for this little mistake to end. I take a stand at the opposite side of the mattress before hearing his intake of breath. My cheeks redden when I remember that I’m in my underwear.

“Shit.” He mumbles before bowing his head down in defeat. I can’t see his expression anymore, but I’m starting to worry about his morning woody being a permanent problem.

“Perv.” I say with an eye roll. The last thing I am is flattered. I promise. Kind of.

My bare feet pad over the marshmallow carpet towards the hall, and I leave Chace in his room without a second glance.  

I keep thinking about his arms around me when I head to the bathroom. I want to stop thinking about everything that’s just happened because I can’t even begin to explain how awkward I feel, but at the same time it’s like the feel of him is burned into my memory, into my skin.

My eyeliner and mascara is caked around my eyes like black rings of death and I can’t even begin to tame the tangled curled mess that is sitting on top of my head when I look in the mirror. If anything, I look like The Grudge. Not cute, at all. At least my bra matches my underwear, which is a small accomplishment for the day.

I use some of the toothpaste I find in one of the cupboards and try my best to make myself look less like road kill. When I finally muster up the lady balls to face Chace again, I smooth out my hair one last time and turn the doorknob.

The hallway seems deserted and there isn’t any noise coming from his room. I want to say that the door right in front of the bathroom belongs to him, but I honestly can’t remember now.

My plan is to find Mike and get out of here, but it’s kind of hard to do when there’s no way for me to find out where he is without running back into Chace. Whatever, I’m going to choose not to be embarrassed about this. I mean, at least not externally. I push my shoulders back and head out towards the living room. When I see that no one is there, I try the kitchen.

I’m greeted with the sight of Chase’s butt up in the air as he rummages through his fridge. He’s cradling a carton of eggs in his right arm and milk in his opposite hand when he turns to see me. He’s still wearing what he wore to bed. He cringes when he sees that I’m still undressed and standing right in front of him. The silence starts getting super uncomfortable and I will myself to say something, but no matter how hard I try, I know I’m showing how awkward I feel. I want to act confident, but the deer in the headlights look Chace is sending me is mirrored on my face.

“They left.” Chace says suddenly. The carton in his arm is open and I can see an egg tethering on a banged up edge, wobbling, ready to explode on the floor.

 "Where?” I ask, mildly surprised. Mike and Jake almost never leave to a public place together, there’s a reason why they always meet secretly at Jake’s house. Jake’s mom is never home, always working I’ve assumed, and no one from the public eye can spot them. First going to the party together, and now this. I make a note to talk to Mike about what’s going on. He’s going against our incognito plans, big time.

“Dunno,” Chace shrugs before setting the food in his arms on a nearby counter.

“They left a note,” He continues with his back to me. “Something about going out for breakfast.”

Okay, so Mike is definitely pushing some limits. I don’t even no why I’m so bothered. It’s his gay ass on the line, but still. My eyes dart back to Chace’s back. His shoulders are pushing back and forth. Without thinking I take a step forward and peer around him to see what he’s doing.

It’s too late when I realize my chest is pressed up against him. Chace jumps when he feels me before whirling around and gripping the counter. He’s got two eggs, one in each hand, poised in the air like mini impromptu grenades he’s planning on throwing.

“Relax, I’m just trying to see what you’re doing.” I say defensively. I want to slap myself for making a big deal out of things, but the urge to say something was too strong. Chace clears his throat awkwardly before setting the eggs down.

"You might want to put some clothes on.” Chace is looking uncomfortable, completely out of his element. I almost want him to be the same asshole as usual to relieve the tension, but he’s not helping any.

 “I don’t know where my dress is.” I say honestly.

Chace pushes himself off the counter and stalks out of the room. I plan on following him, but he returns quickly with something clutched in his hand. He drops the fabric in the air, and I catch it. I unfold it to realize it’s one of his dorky t-shirts. Without hesitating I put it on. The shirt doesn’t exactly reach my knees, more like the middle of my thighs, but it covers way more skin than before.

It smells just like my dream pillow.

I internally cringe when I realize my dream pillow is actually Chace, and that’s when I realize my thought process is all kinds of fucked up.

“Are you…cooking?” I sputter out once I come back to reality.

Chace is in the middle of cracking more eggs into a bowl when he hears me. I know this is weird, but I’ve never actually seen a normal person who wasn’t being paid cook. I didn’t even know until now, I just kind of figured everyone got takeout if they couldn’t afford someone to make their food. Plus, who knew a guy like Chace could cook?

“Yeah, Mike and Jake are going to be the ones missing out.” He says this like a joke, since we weren’t invited to their breakfast dash, but I’m still too dumbfounded to react.

“Witchcraft.” I whisper under my lips at the sight of him submerging sandwich bread into the egg mixture, after adding a good dose of cinnamon. And so I simply stand there, confused out of my mind, as he heats up a pan and starts cooking the bread until it turns golden brown. The amazing scent that starts filling up the small kitchen is alarming enough, but what’s even worse is that he actually looks…dare I say…kind of hot cooking? He looks so comfortable, competent, while he does his task and that’s when I realize that something is wrong.

Perhaps I’m still drunk? He must have done something to me in my sleep because no way in a hundred years would I be having these feelings. It definitely isn’t his cooking, although it’s proving to be pretty impressive. Nor is it his smell and the fact that sleeping next to him proved to be the perfect formula for the best sleep of my life. If it isn’t any of these things, than what is it?

His morning woody.

My inner voice says with dread. Oh my God, it makes perfect sense. I hate to analyze myself in these situations, but I do it anyway. The voice in my head keeps decoding everything, until it all goes back to that lump under the covers. The lump that means that Chace actually finds me attractive enough to get it up. The lump that means he isn’t completely oblivious to me as I have always thought. The idea gets stuck in my head like a wad of unpleasent gum on the wall of my brain.

Just like that, I start noticing every little thing about him. The way his face contorts into that of pure concentration while he flips the French toast in the pan, his lower lip pouting out in a cute way. I would have never found it cute before. Or maybe I kind of did but I ignored it because it didn't make sense. It still doesn't. The side of his jaw when he turns to set the bread on a clean plate, is equally interesting.

 Oh shit.

I’m having a short mental breakdown when he finally switches the gas off the stove and turns his attention back to me.

“French Toast, Fugly?” He asks, setting the plate in front of me. Before I can answer he continues.

“Might want to take more than one. You’re all bones, and hey, maybe some of it will even go to your boobs.” He says this last part with a smug smile and a shrug.

Just like that I want to hit him over the head with the still hot pan behind him. Regardless of morning woody or not, Chace is still an asshole.