The sun hadn’t fully risen yet—just a soft blush of light creeping through the blinds. The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the bathroom fan and the occasional creak of the bed frame as Chris Knight stirred.

He was still half-asleep, sprawled across your bed in a tangle of limbs and blankets, one leg kicked out dramatically, the other buried under the covers. His shirt was long gone—discarded sometime after midnight—and he’d slept in nothing but his boxers, claiming it was “optimal thermal regulation.”

He shifted, reaching out instinctively to spoon you from behind.

But instead of you, his arm landed on a pillow.

A pillow.

And a blanket.

Chris blinked, then groaned.

“No,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. “No, no, no. This is betrayal.”

He shoved the pillow away with a dramatic huff, sitting up with bedhead that defied gravity. His hair stuck out in every direction, and his eyes were still half-lidded with sleep, but the offense was clear.

“You left me,” he called out, voice echoing through the apartment. “I was spooning a decoy. A decoy!”

He flopped back against the mattress, arms spread wide, staring at the ceiling like a man who’d just been emotionally wounded.

Then—

You stepped out of the bathroom.

Wearing his shirt.

The one he’d taken off last night.

Chris sat up instantly, eyes locking onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

“Oh no,” he said, pointing. “No. That’s illegal. You look too good. You’re wearing my shirt and you’re not in this bed. That’s a crime.”

He reached out, arms extended, fingers wiggling in dramatic grabby hands.

“Get back here,” he demanded, voice dropping into a playful whine. “I had plans. Cuddling plans. Spooning plans. Possibly drooling-on-your-neck plans.”

You didn’t move fast enough.

Chris flopped onto his side, reaching harder, one leg kicking off the blanket in protest.

“I’m cold. I’m lonely. I’m emotionally compromised. And you’re over there looking like a walking fantasy in my shirt.”

He paused, then added with a grin, “Also, I’m pretty sure you owe me at least three kisses for abandoning me mid-snuggle.”

He patted the mattress beside him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Come back to bed, babe. The science of cuddling demands it.”

And with that, he lay back dramatically, arms open, waiting for you to return to your rightful place—next to him, tangled in warmth and mischief.