Paige
“Dallas, we are going to be late meeting your friend if you don’t get up and get dressed.”
The lineman on my couch grumbles his response, but he still isn’t fully awake. I watch him from above. His face is relaxed, his expression innocent, angelic, and vulnerable. His long dark eyelashes lie soft against his cheeks, and there are some freckles peppered over his skin from the sun. His brown hair, which is usually styled, curls slightly toward his face in different directions, and I try not to laugh.
Dallas truly looks like an angel in the mornings, and unable to help myself, I take a seat on the couch. I run my fingers through his soft hair and giggle when he immediately relaxes and seems to fall deeper asleep.
“I’m doing this to wake you up, silly,” I say in an amused tone. “Wake
