2

Wesley stumbles, almost dropping the GPS, and clears his throat.

“What?” he says, his voice flat.

I wave my hands as I talk, trying to explain myself. “You know, because there’s no heating in the cabin, I just thought we could conserve body heat by being in the same bed. It won’t be weird, or anything, and it would be efficient, right? I know how much you like efficiency because you’re so organized and—”

“Ollie.” Wesley grabs both of my hands in his bare ones. “We’re not sharing a bed.”

Warmth sparks in my stomach at the touch. Still, I can’t help but feel disappointed. “Oh. But why? People share rooms and beds all the time back at college.”

“Yeah, well, that’s different,” he says.

“How?”

He looks away, tilting his head up to the sky as if seeking strength. I try to pay attention, but I can’t focus on anything except his hands touching mine, tan against pale. They’re cold from the mountain air and so big they make mine look dainty in comparison. The knuckles are a punching shade of red.

Wesley is a big guy in general. He towers over me at almost six-foot-three, with broad muscled shoulders and strong legs. I wonder what it would be like to hug him properly. Not the brief ‘bro hugs’ we sometimes do, but to be enveloped in his arms and lay my head on his chiseled chest. He’s practically built like a Greek god.

The only time I’ve seen him shirtless was when we went to the beach last year after our finals. I was distracted the entire time, watching the glistening water travel down his shoulders and over his taut stomach. I knew he worked out, but I’d never seen the fruits of his labor until then.

I didn’t swim, because I hate getting into the ocean with all those creepy crawlies swimming around under there. But I watched Wesley until my eyes were sore.

That was the moment I knew I had a problem.

When he came in from the tide, he asked me what I was thinking about, and I told him the truth. “You,” I said, stretched out on my beach towel, shirtless myself, my sketchbook shut firmly beside me. I meant it as a joke, but Wesley had turned that pretty shade of pink all over.

My sketchbook pages of those days are filled with doodles of him. I don’t draw him as much as I used to, but I still do a few now and then. So I don’t forget how to.

Wesley squeezes my hands, and the sensation sends electricity down my spine, shaking me out of my daze.

“Never mind that,” he says eventually. “The cabin is less than a mile that way, so we should make it in half an hour.”

“Okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird.”

He bends closer until our faces are almost touching, and my heart jumps so much I think it’s going to burst out of my chest.

“Listen to me, Ollie. You’re not making it weird, you never have, so stop apologizing for it. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Something warm wriggles in my chest. I turn my face away, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my lips. “Thanks, Campbell.”

“It’s an honor,” he says, solemn as ever, but his eyes crinkle again. “Come on.”

He drops one of my hands and suddenly it’s the most important thing to me that we keep touching. But, for some reason, Wesley doesn’t drop the other one. Instead, he grips it tighter and leads me along the snowy trail.

Despite his reassuring words, I can’t help but squirm internally. Obviously, Wesley wouldn’t want to share a bed. I know he likes his personal space yet I still messed it up.

I would have thought that three years of friendship would bring us closer together, and stuff like that wouldn’t matter anymore. Or maybe I’m just looking for more closeness and more touch when I should be grateful for what Wesley gives me.

I grip his hand tighter, heat spreading through me. I don’t know why he’s allowing this. Probably so I don’t run off and get lost - we both know how distracted I get by the smallest things.

Holding hands is just another practicality, nothing more.

*

We arrive at the cabin around three, as the sun is getting ready to set. The damn winter weather has us shivering with cold. My feet feel like I’ve plunged them into a bucket of ice and the ends of my pants are soaked through from the snow.

The cabin itself is nice and made mostly of wood. It doesn’t take long to tour the living room, which the front door opens directly into, and the tiny kitchen attached to the side. The living room narrows into a corridor with two closed doors that must be the bathroom and the bedroom, but I drag Wesley back to the living room before he can look in them.

Not yet.

He gives me a weird look but goes along with it. Untangling our hands, he leads me to the fabric couch seated in front of a small log fireplace. I shiver, but this time I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the lost warmth of his skin.

Settling onto the couch, I blink up at him. “It’s getting late, Wes, let me make us dinner. You must be starving.”

Granola bars and bananas can only go so far.

“You’re freezing,” he says, a frown pulling on his face. “Sit. I’ll start the fire and get you some hot chocolate to warm up.”

My ears perk at the idea, and I wriggle back happily. Cold nylon shifts against my skin and I hiss at the sensation. I need to get out of these clothes. My mom always says the best way to get sick is by wearing cold, wet clothes.

Now that I’m studying Biology, I obviously know it’s the bacteria that does that, but I can’t deny I’ll feel better if I’m warm and dry. The last thing I want to do is ruin this trip by sniffling and coughing.

Wesley unpacks his bag and brings out a box of matches, firewood, and some kindling before he goes to work setting up the fire. The cabin doesn’t have overhead lights, but Wesley turns on the battery-powered lamp in the corner.

I watch him in the dim light as I undress. First my jacket, then the undershirt, and finally the vest I wore on Wesley’s request. Lifting my hips, I’m unbuckling my belt when I hear a sharp inhale, and a large hand slams over mine, stopping me.

I blink up at Wesley.

“What are you doing?” His eyes are wide, disheveled hair falling over his forehead.

“Removing my pants.”

“I can see that,” he says, and his voice sounds strange. “But why?”

I gesture to the soaked hems. “They’re damp and freezing; it’ll be good to get out of them and stay warm. You should take yours off, too.”

Wesley looks down. His hand is still over mine, settled directly over my belt. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. The contact makes me warm all over, and absently I lift my hips to take my pants off.

When I start moving, Wesley yanks his hand back. He whirls around, refusing to meet my gaze.

He clears his throat and goes back to the fire. “Put on your spare change of clothes when you’re done.”

His voice is commanding, leaving no space for an argument. Not that I want to argue. I think I like it when he bosses me around.

Wesley is a quiet guy but, when he speaks, he’s kind and considerate to everyone, if a bit blunt. He usually fades into the background whenever the gang is together, content to watch me and Luke get into a shouting match over the best sitcoms or listen to Callum complain about all the girls he doesn’t have sex with.

The conversation turns to sex pretty often, or people the others want to hook up with. Sometimes I join in but, whenever I do, Wesley goes especially quiet then and leaves the room. I’m not sure why.

I do as I’m told and shuck off the hiking pants until I’m in my boxer briefs. My bag is behind the couch so, instead of getting up, I scramble onto my knees and bend over to rummage through my bag for my spare jeans.

There’s a soft bang behind me, followed by what sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck.”

When I’ve got my jeans on and turn back, Wesley is nowhere to be seen. But warm flames flicker in the fireplace, illuminating half of the living room with orange light.

I wrap my arms around my bare torso, settling into the couch as I wait. It doesn’t take long before Wesley comes back from the kitchen holding two insulated metal cups.

He hands me one silently, his eyes trained intently on my face.

The hot chocolate is sweet and milky, exactly how I like it. I can’t help but let out a little moan at the taste.

Wesley stops drinking and lets out a spluttering cough. “Ollie!”

“What?” I blink at him, confused. “Did your drink go down the wrong way or something?”

“No. I’m fine,” he bites out, wiping his mouth. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

Firelight flickers over his face, catching on the edge of his angular stubbled jaw. I imagine what it would feel like under my tongue.

Focus, Oliver.

He’s blushing again, the red trailing down his neck and beneath his jumper. I wish he’d taken it off, so I could follow the pink skin all the way down.

I shrug, smiling a little. “It tastes good. Really good.”

“It’s just instant,” he says, shaking his head. “But I’m glad you like it. I’m going to evaluate the rest of the cabin and ensure it meets our needs. Stay here, get warm.”

Panic seizes my chest and I drop my mug on the coffee table. I need to distract him somehow.

“Can I have a head rub?”

“What?”

I tilt my head up and give him the best puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. That’s what the barista at the coffee shop on campus says, anyway, and I’m inclined to believe her. They’ve never failed me.

“I’m so very cold,” I say, sniffing dramatically.

Wesley frowns. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“Yes, but that was when you were…” he trails off and purses his lips.

I know what he was going to say. We haven’t done this since that night on the roof when I was still a mess from being broken up with.

I stiffen, feeling my smile slide off my face. “You know what, never-”

“Fine,” he says, cutting me off. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” The grin returns with full force and Wesley rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking when he flops onto the couch beside me.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs.

I’m practically salivating at the promise of his touch. I scoot closer to him, pressing my clothed thigh against his. A hiss escapes his lips.

“You okay?” I tentatively place my head on his broad shoulder.

“Never better.”

The feeling of his long, solid fingers running through my hair is euphoric. I sigh, settling against him further. His jumper is soft and smells like him. Pine trees, rainwater, and his natural sweat. I could fall asleep enveloped by him and rest for a thousand years.

“Your hair is soft,” he says quietly.

He wraps one blonde lock around his finger and tugs lightly. It feels good.

“Thanks, but it’s just like that naturally. My mom has the same hair, but hers is a lot longer than mine.”

Wesley hums, trailing into silence once again as he works his way through my hair. His hand moves too far, slipping down the side of my face as he rubs behind my ears. One of his fingers grazes the corner of my mouth.

We both freeze. Wesley’s gaze burns like a flame. I don’t think about what I do next, I just part my lips and let his finger slip into my mouth.

Fuck. Wesley’s finger is in my mouth. Touching my sharp canines, grazing the tip of my tongue, and it tastes like cocoa powder. It should be illegal, how right this feels.

“Ollie,” he says, breathless.

I feel him tense up beneath me. Every muscle in his body goes rigid and he stops scratching my scalp. When I lift my head to look at him, he jumps up like he’s been burned.

I shiver, cold again without his heat. I miss his touch like a lost limb. It sounds crazy, but I also miss the taste of his fingers.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, a bit dazed.

Wesley mumbles something about checking the rest of the cabin and hurries off before I can tell him to wait. Oh, God. I leap off the couch, hot chocolate forgotten, and chase after him.

But I’m too late. Wesley stands at the threshold of a room, his arms crossed. I glance inside. There’s only one bed.

I tug on my hair, trying to calm my racing heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

I can’t tell if he’s angry at me as I stare at his back, muscles shifting under smooth skin. His large frame fills up the doorway, and I wonder what it would be like to climb him, to wrap my lean muscles around his bulk.

Focus, Oliver. Your friendship is on the line.

“I should have checked the booking before I made it. You hate touching people, and I knew that, and I was being dumb and incompetent. I didn’t think about where we would both sleep and I know I was an idiot-”

Rough, calloused fingers grab my chin and tilt my head up. Wesley looks at me calmly, his face passive though his eyes hold some indecipherable emotion.

“Ollie, it’s okay,” he says.

I frown. “Really? Because you can have the bed. I was being serious about that.”

“You”ll freeze to death if you sleep on the couch.” He shakes his head. “You were right, body heat is important in temperatures like this. We can share the damn bed, it’s sufficient in size for both of us.”

Relief floods through me like a wave, and all the tension of the entire day seeps out of my body, leaving me wrung out and exhausted. My best friend doesn’t hate me. We’re really spending three days together on this mountain.

Three days of sharing a bed, wrapped in each other’s body heat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.