I awoke without having experienced a bad dream, probably because I told Spencer the whole truth and what he said the night before.
Speaking of him, he fell asleep close to me. My face reddened from remembering holding him to sleep last night and feeling the tightness of his hug. I was like a statue. "Wake up, Sp-Spen," I whispered, tenderly patting his cheek. "5 minutes," he mumbled, his face buried in my shoulder.
Maybe he mistook me for a pillow. "Wake up, I can't breathe," I said again, then placed my cheek into his, "Ouch! Stop it! I'm awake okay." When he protested and I let go of his cheek, he still embraced me, but not as firmly different from earlier.
"Good morning," he smiled and greeted me, blankly looking at him. "Oh, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" he joked,
