The next morning, Micah woke up slowly. For a moment, he just lay there, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to remember what he had dreamed. His brows wrinkled a little, but nothing came to mind. He still felt a lingering warmth, like he had been hugged in his dream. All he knew was that it was a happy, sweet dream. One that made him feel fuzzy and warm.
He glanced around the room. Oh. Right. He was in Clyde's place. He let out a soft chuckle and rolled into his side, the sheets rustling under him. He had crashed like a rock last night. Out cold the moment his head hit the pillow. No worries, no tension, not even a single worry about the man sleeping behind another door. A man he had known for what? Two weeks? More or less?
Since when had he started trusting people so fast?! He thought to himself, dragging his hand down over his mouth.
