1

“There has to be something you can do,” I say, staring at the shop clerk in disbelief.

He shrugs and smooths a hand over his white mustache. “Sorry, son. Cabin’s only got the one bed, and the others are all booked for the week.”

“Maybe we could get an air mattress?”

“Not if you want to hike the trail anytime today, son. Thing’s heavier than both of you could carry.” The clerk taps a quick rhythm on the checkout counter and points to a door behind him. “I’ll just be a moment. Grab that key for you and your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my-”

But he’s gone, the door swinging closed behind him.

I groan, trying to think through the slight panic that overcomes me. A fluorescent light flickers and hums overhead, and outside the howl of the wind cuts through the answering quiet.

The convenience store is standard for a small town like Harper, Oregon. It’s the last stop before the trail to the peak and located halfway up the mountain, like a rest stop for hikers. Me and Wesley had dropped his pick-up truck at the base and had stopped here to buy last-minute supplies and grab the keys for the cabin we booked.

Well, that I booked. And apparently, I picked the wrong one. The one for romantic couples on their honeymoon, complete with only one bed.

I open my phone. On the screen, the confirmation email flashes in pink, white, and red: Thank you for booking with Heartbeat Retreat! Your honeymoon cabin includes 1 Bed and 1 Bath.

How was I supposed to know what Heartbeat Retreat meant? They were the cheapest option, the only cabin rental for groups of two, so obviously I went with them. It’s fine; I can sleep on the couch while Wesley sleeps in the room, and then it won’t be so bad. My stomach clenches at the thought. I really don’t want to sleep on a cold couch all night, but I can’t make Wesley do it. Not when it’s my fault this happened.

Booking accommodation for the trip was my one job. Wesley is the one who keeps the maps and the GPS, he’s the one with the latest equipment, and he plans the trip each year. All I had to do this time was book the cabin. And I managed to mess that up.

I can’t tell him there’s only one bed. At least, not yet. What if he cancels the trip? As much as I hate hiking, I’m excited to hang out with my best friend. Originally, we had planned to hike with the rest of our friend group, like always. But then everybody else bailed, tied up in other commitments and leaving just Wesley and me. Not that I would tell the others, but I’ve secretly always liked him the best.

“Fuck,” I say, scrubbing my eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Can’t believe what is happening?”

I let out a manly shriek, clicking my phone closed as a familiar dark-haired figure leans over my shoulder. Wesley quirks his lip into his signature smirk, revealing two dimples. For a moment, I’m overcome with the crazy idea of pressing my thumbs into them—

What the fuck am I thinking?

Shaking my head, I take a half-step away from him.

“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to calm my raging heartbeat. “Did you find the stuff?”

He gestures to the few items he’s holding. “Mission accomplished. What’s the status on the cabin?”

My stomach flips. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Perfect, even.”

The lie feels like oil on my tongue. Wesley raises an eyebrow, eyes filled with some indecipherable emotion, and for a moment it seems like he’s going to call me out but then he shrugs and holds up a flat, black box.

“Are they chopsticks?” I say.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “It’s for you.”

That gets my attention. Warmth spreads through my veins, chasing away the chill inside the store, and I open the box. Inside is a very nice set of sketching pencils, a charcoal stick, a blending stump, and a kneadable eraser. Perfect supplies for drawing.

I fling myself at Wesley, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug without thinking. With our height difference, he towers over me, my head barely reaching his shoulder. His body goes rigid at my touch, stiffening beneath me. I should pull away. I should want to pull away. But he feels so good despite the layers of hiking gear between us, and we haven’t hugged in forever.

“Sorry,” I say. It takes me longer than it should to pull away and step back. “Sorry. I just love them so much, thank you. You’re the best.”

He ducks his head. His ears have turned a pretty shade of pink, giving his tanned skin a nice glow.

“They were on sale,” he says like this isn’t a big deal. “I read somewhere that artists like to hike the trail and paint the view at the peak.”

“How did you know I needed new pencils? I’m almost out of my last set.”

Wesley shrugs. “I had an inkling.”

“Like Raven Simone.”

“Like who?”

I let out a groan, clutching my chest dramatically like I’ve been shot. “Wes, you might be able to recite the political landscape of every country on earth, but you’re still uncultured. ‘Who’s Raven’ he says.”

Three years of friendship with me clearly hasn’t taught him anything. But I can’t stay mad at him. The pencil set is gorgeous. It makes me giddy looking at it. Or maybe that’s because of the fifth coffee I downed earlier.

The pink has deepened to a rose across Wesley’s cheeks. He looks like he’s overheating.

Concern wells in my chest and my hand moves before my brain does. I touch his forehead, feeling his temperature, but he snaps back like he’s been burned so I pull my hand away, fingers tingling.

“Sorry,” I say, not feeling very sorry at all. “You’re blushing hard. You don’t feel sick, do you?”

Wesley stares at me for a moment. I’ve never met anyone with eyes like him; sly and angular, and a shade of blue that reminds me of the ocean. Then he clears his throat.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Come on, we best get going before the sun sets.”

“I like it when you talk like that. All old-fashioned.”

“What can I say? I’m a master of the English language. Try picking up a thesaurus sometime.”

“Hey man, relax,” I say, elbowing his side gently. I’m careful to keep my hands to myself. “I don’t need to know every word in the dictionary when I’ve got you.”

“I have no plans to part from your side, my lord,” he says, bowing slightly like a knight.

My stomach does a little flip and I look away to hide my giant smile. Wesley places the camping supplies on the counter just as the shop clerk returns. He whistles appreciatively at the brand of bear deterrent Wesley picked out.

“You boys looking to reach the peak today?” he asks.

“Hopefully before sunset,” Wesley says. He gestures outside, where snow blankets the ground. “Conditions might slow us down a touch.”

The shop clerk nods sagely and asks if we’d like a bag. Wesley declines, carefully arranging the supplies in his backpack. While he’s distracted, I lean over the counter.

“Did you get it?” I say, keeping my voice low.

A slow, wise smile spreads over the man’s face like butter on toast, and he hands me a keychain with a metal heart attached to it. For you and yours, the heart reads in swirling letters. It’s kind of cute.

“What’s that?” Wesley says, reaching for the key.

Panicking, I shove it into the pocket of my hiking pants. “Nothing! Just the keys to the cabin.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the strands magically falling back into place, and stares at me with a weird expression on his face. I know I’m acting weird, but I can’t help it. Sure, we’ve been friends for three years, and I know I can trust him, but I can’t help but not want to disappoint him. It’s weird, but it’s who I am; I’ve always been a bit ashamed about making mistakes, especially around Wesley.

“Come on, let’s get going,” I say, and without permission my hand tugs on his sleeve.

Thankfully, Wesley follows without any questions. As we exit the store, the clerk calls out to us.

“You boys have fun, you hear? And watch out for that snowstorm.”

Wesley pauses at the door. “The news didn’t mention anything about a storm.”

“Them and their fancy weather machines.” The clerk chuckles. “I’ve lived up here twenty-three years and I know how to read the sky. Stay safe out there, now.”

Wesley thanks him, though he looks about as confused as I feel. Chimes tinkle above the door as it swings closed.

*

Hiking is exhausting. I don’t know how Wesley and Spencer go on a trail every week. They’re the most active ones in our friend group. Me, Luke, Callum, and Milo are less exercise-inclined, but we enjoy the yearly hike to the mountain peak. It’s an excuse to hang out with my best friends, get drunk in the student cabins on the far side of the mountain, and take a break from busy college life.

We all study different things, but I major in Biology while Wesley is nose-deep in Politics and Economics. He’s one of those guys with big plans to change the world, and I have no doubt in my mind that he can do it.

After our final exams last year, we were lying on the floor of his dorm, drinking a few beers and chatting about everything and nothing. His roommate, Alex, was out for the night so we had the space all to ourselves.

In the dim light, Wesley’s eyes glittered and he told me about his plans to climb the political ladder until he has enough pull to make the world a better place.

He’d looked so passionate, his lips red and glistening from biting them too hard, a soft alcohol flush on his cheeks, and I remember believing he could do it. He’s the perfect guy for the job.

“Weather looks fine to me,” Wesley calls from ahead of me. “I mean, it’s a bit choppy but that’s to be expected.”

“Maybe the clerk got it wrong?” I’m taking my time, alternating between staring at the pretty scenery and stopping to collect interesting things dotted around the trees on either side of the trail. “It’s getting late, Wes. I’m exhausted.”

My legs are starting to ache, and my hands are so cold it”s a wonder they haven’t turned blue.

Wesley hurries to my side, lifting his hiking goggles. His gaze seems to pierce through me.

“We can route to the cabin for the night,” he suggests.

I kind of regret bringing it up at all at the reminder about the cabin. The key with the iron heart feels like it”s burning a hole in my hiking pants. But I’m tired, so tired I could be persuaded to sleep on the floor if it was inside and away from the snow.

Pushing the feeling away, I lift my goggles so I can give him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Can we, please?”

His eyes crinkle, the smile showing off those damn dimples. “You complain almost as much as Callum.”

“I take offense to that. All Callum does is complain, especially about Milo.”

Wesley begins walking again, this time matching my pace so he’s in line with me. “That’s because Callum’s obsessed with him.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “What?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed he’s practically glued to Milo’s side every waking moment.”

I think back to Milo and Callum’s interactions. They’d always seemed like good friends, nothing obsessive about it.

“No, he’s not,” I say, shaking my head. “Milo’s never been interested in dating, right?”

At least, that’s what he’s always told us.

Wesley’s lips tilt up. “Too busy ‘studying’ with the guys he takes back to his room.”

“See? Our Milo cares a lot about his studies,” I say, smiling triumphantly up at him. “I bet he’s never had his first kiss before.”

Wesley makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like ‘Jesus’.

“What?” I say.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he replies drily. Then, he slants a look at me that’s indecipherable behind his ski goggles. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Of course I have, I’m not a total loser.” I roll my eyes. “I barely remember it and I’ve had better kisses since then.”

For a moment, Wesley is silent, chewing on his bottom lip as his eyes dart over the snowy landscape. Finally, his gaze settles on mine. My breath catches in my throat.

“Just kisses?” he asks.

I shrug. “I mean, I used to do… other stuff with my ex. But I’ve never— I haven’t gone the full way.”

An image of my ex-boyfriend wells up, unbidden, in my mind and I hate the way my heart twists. He had hurt me so badly, shattered me into pieces so small I don’t think I put myself back together the right way. It left me more fucked up than I already was.

I was lucky to meet Wesley the night my ex broke up with me. Without him I would have wallowed in bed and eaten pints of strawberry ice cream while binging Gilmore Girls for the third time.

Wesley falls silent, an unreadable expression on his face. We walk amicably beside each other. Occasionally, his arm brushes against mine, and I know I’m imagining it, but I swear the warmth of his skin seeps through my weatherproof jacket. I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

I’ve always had weird reactions to touch. I like to hug people, even if I just met them, and it”s led to some strange looks and comments about me getting too close. It’s not like I’m trying to be a creep. My body just likes touches of any kind. Hand holding, hugs, even playing footsie under tables.

It’s nice to feel the contact of another human being. It reminds me I’m not so alone.

Add that to the list of weird things about me. Number one is I can recite every line of season one of The Office. Wesley always teases me when I take breaks during our study sessions to watch an episode, but it’s not my fault they’re so comforting. I think I’ve rewatched every season at least three times.

There’s something about familiarity and the comfort it brings. Wesley is like that for me. No matter what I’m doing, he makes everything better.

I can’t keep my mistake hidden forever. Eventually, we’ll get to the cabin, and he’ll see the one bed and he’ll be disappointed. He won’t say anything, because Wesley’s too nice for that. He’ll probably offer me the bed while he makes a survival-ready fort in the living room, but I’ll drag him under the covers if I have to. Still, I can’t help but tug on the hair exposed underneath my beanie nervously.

“Hey, Wes?” I say, my voice echoing in the silence.

He hums, frowning at the GPS screen.

“Would you want to share a bed with me?”