Chapter 5 Noah
Noah
I try to refocus on the fire as the tent zipper closes behind Brad.
That was weird.
Not just because of his strange reaction to my piercings—which I think he really liked, by the way— it was his strange reaction to me being pansexual.
Did he have a problem with that? It didn’t seem like it. It seemed like more curiosity than anything. Actually, he only got weird when I put the attention back on him and his sexuality.
Whatever. I shake my head and decide to set aside my box of weed.
He clearly has some things to figure out about himself, and that’s none of my business.
Except a weird form of excitement stirs in my gut. What if I made it my business?
Just when I was starting to think of the many ways I could unravel Brad, my thoughts were cut short by a noise off in the distance.
I stop moving and look out into the darkness, past the trees that surround us.
Suddenly, another cluster of sounds scatters across the forest floor, jumpstarting my heart.
I jump up out of my seat and quickly make my way over to the tent.
Unzipping as fast as I can, I slip into the hole I’ve exposed, big enough for my body but small enough that whatever forest creature is after me can’t get in.
“What the hell?” Brad gasps as I fall on top of him.
The first thing I notice is how warm and solid he is. His hands grab my arms, firm but hesitant, like he isn’t sure of what he should do with me. I shift off him, breath caught in my throat, and flop onto the ground beside him, trying not to overthink how good he felt underneath me.
“There was—” I take a big deep breath. “A noise.”
I can barely see him, but I can make out the silhouette of his body from the light reflecting through the tent from the campfire.
Shit. The fire.
“It was probably just a small animal,” he exhales. “Or maybe another camper. The shared restrooms aren’t too far from here.”
I shake my head. “No, this sounded…scarier.”
“Scarier?” he repeats. I can hear the teasing tone in his voice. It both angers and amuses me.
“Bastard.” I kick at him. “If we get eaten, I’m telling them you never believed me.”
“How would anyone know if it ate us both?” he asks, shuffling through his bag before pulling out a flashlight.
I sit up and grab onto his shoulder. “Where are you going?” I ask, gripping tightly.
Oh, he’s topless. His soft skin under my hand feels…nice. “Okay, I know this is so not cool of me to be freaking out like this, but I’m not a camper. I mean…there could be murderous animals out there. Or–” I gasp. “Jason.”
“Jason… from Friday the Thirteenth? Are you talking about the horror movie?”
I nod my head, which makes Brad laugh.
I cover his mouth with my palm and ignore how his soft beard on my skin makes me feel. “Careful. He’s going to hear you,” I whisper, only half joking.
He moves my hand off his mouth, resting it on his collarbone instead.
“One, you’re ridiculous. Two, this isn’t Camp Crystal Lake.
” He flicks on the light, casting a creepy glow under his chin, immediately illuminating this small space of ours.
I only notice now how close I am to him. I’m basically on top of him.
“I’m only slightly impressed that you know your horror movie killers.”
“And you clearly know too much.”
I drop my hands and shrug as he carefully opens the zipper.
“Now, are you coming, or am I going to have to put out this fire myself?”
I guess I should follow. I’d rather know what’s coming than wait here like a sitting duck.
He hands me the flashlight as I climb out behind him. The fire has died down to just small flames and embers now, which is a good sign. This should be quick.
“This weekend was supposed to be about finding out more about each other, but all I’ve found out so far is that you’re kind of a scaredy cat.” Brad laughs, slowly dumping some water onto the embers, logs, and fire ring, effectively sending dark smoke into the air.
My eyebrows pinch as I shine the light straight in his face, making him squint.
“I’m not a scaredy cat. I just don’t want to be eaten.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.” Brad smiles, stirring the pit a little with the stick.
He says it so simply, like it’s nothing.
But it’s not ‘nothing’, is it? Not when his voice sounds like that—low and calm and confident.
Not when it makes my stomach flip for no goddamn reason. What is happening to me?
I kick at a rock under my feet.
“I’ve gotta take the food into the truck. Can you wait right there?” he asks, coming over to pick up the cooler next to me.
“What? No. I’m coming with you,” I insist, hurrying after him. This only makes him chuckle more.
“If you’re going to be this attached to me for the rest of the weekend, you might as well start being nicer to me.” His strong back flexes as he walks ahead of me. I shine the light on the path in front of him, but I can’t help stealing glances at the way his back tightens and relaxes as he walks.
“I am nice to you. As nice as I can be anyway.”
“Oh, I think you could be nicer,” he says. I open the back door of his truck so he can slide the cooler onto the seat. “Way nicer.” He adds.
I smirk, shining the light back in his face. It’s so funny watching him wince under the bright light. “Now you’re just asking for too much.” I bite my lower lip.
His eyes adjust quickly, and I catch them flickering down to my lips. He clearly has some fascination with my piercings. Just imagine if he knew about all of them.
I wonder how fascinated he’d be then.
Mr. Nice Guy.
Mr. Goodie-two-shoes.
“What are you smirking at?” he mutters, eyes narrowed on my face. He bats the light out of his face.
“Nothin’,” I shrug, turning to walk back to the tent. “So, we snuggling tonight or what?”
I unzip the tent and slide my way inside. Shuffling over, I give him enough space to climb in.
“No, this sleeping bag should be big enough for both of us. If not…you can slip out.”
I roll my eyes.
“What? You were the one who forgot everything.” He fluffs his pillow and slides over just enough that I have a sliver of a corner.
I huff. He’s right. I was the idiot who forgot basically everything that would’ve made sense in this scenario. Honestly, I guess there was a part of me that assumed he would’ve just turned around and took me home.
I watch him crawl back into his sleeping bag as I work on stripping off my shirt and tugging on my pajama bottoms. I do that part quickly, trying not to flash him my bare ass.
Making my way into the sleeping bag, I slip inside before turning off the flashlight and laying it beside me.
Yeah, it’s tight in here. A two person sleeping bag is obviously a sleeping bag meant for couples.
I can feel everything. His arm, hot against mine.
The brush of his thigh, jeans rough against my bottoms. Every little shift is like a jolt straight to my gut.
He’s not even touching me on purpose, and I’m already overthinking every breath.
God, this sleeping bag is way too fucking small.
I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep in this thing.
Judging by his scattered breathing and the fact that he hasn’t moved a muscle since I crawled in, I can tell he’s probably feeling the same way I am.
“It’s so quiet in here,” I whisper, barely above a breath.
As though he’s been waiting for me to say something, he quickly turns, grabs his phone, and presses play on the small speaker that’s sitting right outside the tent. I can hear soft music playing again, thankfully filling the silence.
“Perfect,” I sigh. “I can’t hear Jason’s footsteps coming for me anymore.” I snuggle deeper into the sleeping bag.
I can feel a soft chuckle beside me, which makes me smile. I can’t see it, but I can feel the soft chuckle grow into a firm shake of his shoulders.
“You think I’m crazy, but I’m not—”
He turns on his side to face me. “Shut up,” he laughs softly, pressing his palm against my lips.
I pull on his hand, but it’s no use; his arm doesn’t budge.
He handles me so easily, like it’s the simplest thing he’s ever done.
Like, he can just…move me in the way he wants, and my body has no choice but to give in.
He’s fucking strong. And warm. And smells like cedar and campfire.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that. But I do. Fuck, I do.
Finally, he moves his hand off my mouth, and I try to shake off the strange disappointment I feel. Thankfully, he doesn’t turn away. Instead, his arm slides over my chest, his chin resting just above my head, keeping me close.
“You’ve seen all the movies then?” he says.
“I’ve seen all the movies.” I nod, my hand resting on his arm.
He makes no attempt at moving, so I don’t either.
The closeness he’s providing is actually really soothing.
It’s almost like all the fear I was experiencing moments ago has completely melted away.
I’m surprisingly not ashamed to admit that.
“No wonder you were so scared.” He breathes out softly.
“You would be too if you watched Jason chainsaw into—”
“Okay, okay,” he mutters, moving his hand back over my mouth. “Time to sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” I huff, kicking my feet in the bag.
There’s a small pause. “Then tell me a story,” he murmurs.
I hesitate—because his voice sounds softer now, different. Like he’s drifting to sleep, and I’m here to comfort him.
So I do. It’s one I know like the back of my hand. I tell him the story of a kid named Jason who goes to Camp Crystal Lake one summer.
His breathing evens out as I speak, and I wonder if he's falling asleep or just pretending. I wonder what he’d do if I guided my hands over his body.
Would he freak out? Call my mom? Take us home?
Beat me up? He doesn’t seem like the type.
But, still—I wonder why the hell I’m even wondering that.
And more importantly, why is it starting to feel like I don’t want this weekend to end?