Best. Day. Ever. I glanced down at a sleeping Hiro-san for the hundredth time in the past half hour. I was too happy to sleep. He shifted in bed and groaned, but didn't wake up. I pushed his bangs out of his face and pulled the comforter up to cover his bare shoulders. I wondered if he would yell at me tomorrow. Probably. We did it three times. Three wonderful times . . . maybe if I bring him breakfast in bed he won't throw anything at me in the morning. I sighed. He was incredible today. I shook my head. I shouldn't think any more about it or I would get myself in trouble. Very easy to do with my beautiful and naked lover right there-bad, Nowaki! Quit it! I needed a distraction.
I reached over Hiro-san and stole the book light from his bedside table. Then I reached under the mattress on my side . . . but my manga wasn't there. It probably slipped out and fell on the floor; we were rather . . . uninhibited today. I didn't know Hiro-san could do that, the human body is so—Down, boy! Focus. I patted the floor with my hand, but didn't find the manga there. I flipped on the book light and hung over the edge of the bed to look underneath. I frowned: nothing but a few stray socks. Did I forget to put it back? I gasped. Did Hiro-san see it? I felt the bed shift.
"Looking for this?"