I woke up to the distinct sensation of something nibbling my chin.
Not a squirrel, thank the gods.
Just Ayame.
More specifically—Ayame's hair, which had somehow unbraided itself during the night and now lay tangled across my face like a silky trap. Her arm was slung over my chest, her leg still firmly entwined with mine, and her face was buried so deep into my neck it looked like she was trying to phase through me.
I could barely move.
"Morning," I croaked.
She groaned, curling in tighter. "No it isn't. I declare rebellion against sunlight."
"You smell like sleepy vengeance."
"You smell like man-flavored comfort. Don't move."
"Wasn't planning to."
I lay there for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of her breath, the occasional twitch of her foot as dreams tried to reclaim her.
Then she stirred.
Cracked one eye open.
Squinted at me.
"...Did we kiss last night or did I dream that?"
"We kissed."
She blinked. "Did I look cool?"
