That last was weird. I never woke feeling refreshed. I always woke feeling like I wanted to go back to sleep.

Or maybe it was just that I didn’t want to get up.

Now I felt…

Great.

I opened my eyes and saw dark gray sheets.

This confused me because I had pastel pink sheets.

Suddenly, I smiled.

I was in Axl’s bed.

And it was a great bed.

Best…mattress…ever.

And I could smell him.

So, obviously, even better.

Sun was coming from behind his closed blinds.

I wondered vaguely what time it was.

I wondered not-so-vaguely how life could get so good so fast when it seemed so bad for so long.

I wondered what was on my leg.

Wait.

What?

I looked down the bed and saw a cat, hind paws to the bed, front paws to my leg. Small, slender body. Dense gray fur. Big ears. Gold at the edge of her (his?) dilated eyes.

She (he?) studied me with curiosity and barely hidden feline distaste.

Then s/he turned and pranced off the bed.

Axl had a cat.

Axl had a pretty, dainty, gray cat with an attitude.

I would not peg him as a cat person.

Dogs.

Yes.

Pretty, dainty, haughty gray cats?

No.

Semi-meeting Axl’s cat, and knowing he was a cat person made me feel like I felt when I first woke up.

Comfy and snuggly.

I sat up in Axl’s ridiculously comfortable bed.

I’d become somewhat acquainted with his bedroom last night after he’d kissed me silly on his couch.

Just kissing, no feeling up, no liberties taken (not, after he started kissing me, that those liberties wouldn’t be freely given).

But lots…

And lots…

Of delicious kissing.

Once he’d decided we were done with that (regrettably), he led me to his bedroom, gave me one of his tees to sleep in, then he took me to his bathroom, unearthed a toothbrush still in its wrapper and pulled out his toothpaste.

He told me to “sleep well” and “call out if you need anything,” and then he bent in, kissed my neck, gave me a smile and left me.

I’d been too dreamy from his kisses, and maybe too sleepy from the late night, to take in much of his bedroom at that time.

I took it in now.

He decorated like me, without the shocks of color. White walls. Wooden blinds painted gray. Some lighter gray floor-length curtains at the sides. A bedspread of white with nuanced shades of gray checks.

The outlier to the gray and white was the furniture.

A modern, boxy black leather chair sat in the corner, with an ottoman and a chrome standing lamp that had a dome shade. The chair was covered in cargos, tees and my clothes.

There was also a black six-drawer dresser. And the bed frame was black, as were the nightstands. The lamps on the nightstands were chrome.