Nick woke to a crick in his neck and the smell of vanilla to his left. He couldn't help but smile; like a stupid, romantic comedy, opposite of a Turtle Face smile. The sun was streaming through his window, hitting the wonderful woman sleeping his bed. Even cynical Nick thought that this could be the most perfect morning ever. At least the most perfect day he could remember in years. As he lay back down facing this woman, he couldn't help brushing away the stray hair that blocked her big, albeit, closed eyes. All he could do was stare. He didn't dare wake her, because if he did, it would only be a matter of time before they would both have to get up and start the day, thus, putting an end to this excellent morning. So instead, he stealthily (well, as stealthily as Nick Miller could manage) climbed out of his bed, put on the boxers left on the bedroom floor from last night, and force his most raggedy cotton T-shirt over his bed-headed head. Taking one last look at her, Nick slowly and quietly pulled his bedroom door open and slinked out into the hallway. After putting a pot of coffee on, Nick leaned against the kitchen counter and replayed last night in his mind.
The night he finally was with Jessica Day.