6. Chapter Six

It wasn't long until we arrived at one of my favorite men's clothing stores and Jared was pulling things off the racks and shelves to try on. He disappeared into a changing room and a few minutes later, stepped out in a pair of jeans and a fitted T-shirt. He was about my height, but his build was much stronger, considering he spent his days in the gym when he wasn't giving music lessons. The clothes looked like they'd been made for his lean, muscular body. Hell, they looked like they'd been sewn onto his body. My throat went dry and I swallowed hard around the lump forming there before nodding. I wasn't sure why I felt so overwhelmingly moved by his appearance. We were just friends, after all. Sure, I knew I was bi despite never having been with a man, but I'd never had feelings for Jared before. That kiss, though, had changed everything. It had been like a bolt of lightning to me, waking up every part of me, body and mind, and I wanted him to be mine.

"Perfect."

Jared grinned and disappeared to try on another outfit. When he emerged the next time, he was wearing slacks and a button-down. He looked great, objectively speaking. In an "I'm marrying my platonic best friend to help him get a citizenship visa" kind of way, of course.

While he tried on a few more outfits, Steve gestured to Brock to turn the camera on me and started to pepper me with questions.

"How does it feel to see him again?"

I ran my fingers through my short hair and half-shrugged. "I see him every week on video chat. Sometimes multiple times a week. So, for that part at least, it feels natural, normal. An extension of what we're used to. But it's also different. He's here, flesh and blood. I can touch him. He's real. It's hard to believe. I can…"

Jared stuck his head out of the dressing room at that moment. "Kiss me any time you want?"

I laughed, but my stomach quivered at the thought, and Jared took the opportunity to step out, shirtless, and come over to press a kiss to my mouth. His lips were soft and full, and the scrape of his stubble on my face was oddly satisfying. When his tongue slid along my own, my breath caught in my throat.

What are we doing?I fought the urge to panic at the feelings bubbling up inside of me. We're just friends. This is just for the camera, I reminded myself. But why does it feel so good? Instead, I let my hand drift to his hip and grip the fabric of another new pair of jeans, hooking into his waistband. As his chest touched mine, I drew in a sharp breath through my nose, my head swimming from a lack of oxygen. When Jared pulled away, I ached for more. What was going on with me? I'd never felt that way with Linnea, my recent ex-girlfriend. I guessed if I'd ever had any doubts about being bisexual, I could dismiss those at any time. As Jared eased away and ducked back into the dressing room to change I couldn't help but notice the bulge in his jeans. I knew deep down that Jared's feelings for me were just platonic. His physical reaction was probably the result of a dry spell, or just his natural reaction to kissing. That had to be it.

I looked back to the camera, my heart racing and my cheeks burning as I tried to get myself back under control. My breathing was tight and I tried to inhale slowly and deeply to re-center myself.

"What he said," I murmured breathlessly and looked back up at Steve.

Steve was beaming. "I think that'll be all we need for right now."

Once Jared had picked up a half-dozen shirts and a few pairs of jeans, we headed back home to Drammen, the city near of Oslo where I lived. I found myself oddly nervous to lead Jared up the stairs to my apartment, and my hand shook a little as I slid the key into the lock and turned the knob.

"Don't judge me, okay? It's small, at least by American standards."

Jared laughed, and the low, throaty sound sent a jolt of desire through me that I didn't recognize. "I would never." He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed a quick kiss to my shoulder before I pushed the door open. For the cameras. He did it for the cameras.

My apartment was small, but not tiny. We walked through the vestibule and slid out of our shoes before I led Jared into the living room. It was open concept, as the Americans called it, so the living room merged with the kitchen seamlessly. To the left were the bedroom and bathroom, and through the kitchen was the deck, a small outdoor space just about the size of a king bed for the whole footprint of the space—just large enough for me to have placed a small coffee table and a wicker couch.

"Here we are." I swept my arms around before looking back at him. "What do you think?"

Jared was silent as he walked around, looking at the art and pictures on my walls. "Wow," he breathed. "I know I've seen them on our calls, but they're so beautiful. I can't believe you took all these photos. You've been to some beautiful places."

I nodded. "I've been really fortunate to have the freedom to travel so much. I really love my job."

"You're just done with Scandinavia?"

I frowned. "I wouldn't put it like that. It's not that I plan to leave and never look back. It's more that I feel I've done all I can do here and my interests are pulling me in… another direction." I raised my eyebrows and smiled, reaching for his hand.

"Understood," he murmured, squeezing my fingers lightly.

Steve cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay guys. I think that's just about all we need for tonight. Get some footage of yourselves getting ready for bed if you don't mind. We'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early."

"Noted," Jared said, going over to open the door for them. Once Steve and Brock had left, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping in relaxation, and he leaned his back against the front door. "Good lord."

"What's wrong?"

"That was a lot. I didn't realize how it would feel to be on constantly. Draining."

I nodded in understanding. "Agreed."

He pushed himself to standing and locked the door behind him as he returned to the living room. "Now what?"

"Hungry?"

He shook his head. "I had my fill of airport food and vending-machine snacks. I'm just tired."

"Then I suppose it's bedtime. We have a lot planned for tomorrow and we should get our rest. Besides, you've been traveling for two days. I'd imagine you'd like to shower and sleep."

Jared rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

Once Jared had showered—and I had paced anxiously while he was in the shower, so much that I practically worried a hole in my living room rug—he emerged from the bathroom in just pajama pants, shower water running down his face in little rivulets as he dried his hair, his skin still damp.

My heart thudded a few times and I sank onto the sofa. Stop it. You're his friend, for God's sake. Stop looking at him like that.

Jared grinned, wide and easy. "Tired? I'm sure I could find the energy to stay up playing card games like the old days."

I laughed shakily and shook my head. "Tired."

He nodded. "Let's get some cutesy getting ready for bed footage and then we can crash." So we did. We filmed ourselves brushing our teeth and he filmed me fluffing pillows and pulling the covers down. When we were finished with the camera for the night, Jared tucked it away in its case. "Well, goodnight. Where should I…?" He gestured toward the living room. "Duvet?"

"Oh, no. It gets hot out there. Stuffy, even with the windows, and we're going through a heat wave. I thought, I mean, I just assumed…" I stuttered, my cheeks blazing.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You can sleep in here," I blurted finally. "I have an air conditioning unit in this room. It's portable so if you want to sleep on the couch, you can, but it doesn't get very dark in there because it's summer, and there are no blackout curtains, and the room is large enough that it doesn't cool down well even with the unit, and the couch is uncomfortable. I can sleep out there if you want." I was rambling and I knew it, so I snapped my mouth shut.

Jared's easy smile was back. "I don't mind sharing a bed. It's not like we're strangers and it's not like we've never done it before."

My memory called up images of Jared and me staying up till all hours of the night playing card games and video games and talking about crushes and school. We always claimed it was so I could practice my English, but the truth was, my English was near-flawless at that age—like many Norwegians, I'd been learning since elementary school—and we just wanted to be near each other. I could no longer remember the rhythm of his breathing or the way he looked with his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks, but I remembered how I felt. Safe. Warm. At home.

I nodded. "Okay. If you're sure you're okay with it."

He took my hand in his. "We're going to be getting married. Sharing a bed is probably the most practical move we could make."

"In that case, I sleep on the left."

Jared laughed and climbed into bed while I turned off the lights and turned on the air conditioner. We slid beneath the duvet, and soon, Jared's even, rhythmic breathing let me know he was fast asleep.

I fell asleep, too, after staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Our friendship was easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. But my growing feelings for him seemed to be anything but. Eventually, I closed my eyes, listened to the sound of his breathing, and let sleep pull me under.