In the morning when you wake up

I like to believe you are thinking of me

And when the sun comes through your window

I like to believe you've been dreaming of me

I wearily open my eyes, blinking away the buildup in my eyelashes. The sun shines through the lacy curtains of my window, and slowly, I lean over to glance at my alarm clock.

9:39 it reads.

I stretch my arms up with a sigh, reaching up to grab the wispy bed canopy overhead. My fingers catch on it, and I smile, dragging the fabric through my fingertips. My ten-month boyfriend Drew bought this for my birthday last year, and though it wasn't what I was expecting, I still love it. It reminds me of him every time I crawl into bed, and it's a comfort.

I sit up in bed, wincing as I drag my fingers through the rat's nest of my hair. It takes several minutes just to get my locks into a somewhat normal state, and once it lays down the way I want it, it's past ten.

Once my hair relaxes and I lean back against the headboard of my bed, I can't help but think of Drew. It was a miracle that we met, really. I'm not too popular at our high school, and he's on the first string of our football team. I'm not geeky or stuck up, but I'm not a very talkative person. It amazes me, even to this day, how he managed to get enough guts to ask me out.

I close my eyes and try to imagine what he must be up to right now. He's probably working on his car, again, on this Saturday morning. He promises me he's going to get it fixed by our one-year anniversary, but I tell him to keep dreaming. He's been working on that old thing since even before we were dating, and he hasn't given up hope yet.

Keeping my eyes closed, I imagine how he woke up. The sun probably woke him up, as it always does, and in my imagination, I make the dream he had the night before about us, maybe us dancing or him holding me in his arms like he likes to. He has had dreams about us before, and they always end up being really romantic or cute, which isn't like him. He's more a hands-on, strong, typical guy who loves getting dirty, but also loves getting things done. When he does show emotions, it's not very often, and I always love those moments. I feel like I can get closest to him when he does show that he cares. I know that he hates showing his softer, more fragile side around me, but I love him even more for it.

I love him, however, wherever, whenever.

I just love him.

And I know he loves me, too.