CHAPTER 20 #2
For a few long moments I hold my breath as I set up the pillows side by side, expecting him to say something smart. But instead, he shucks off his jacket and throws it on top of mine, climbs inside, drops the tent, and slides the door closed behind him.
He sits on the end of the mattress and takes off his shoes, then pushes the quilt all the way to my side of the mattress before pulling out a sleeping bag and shaking it open.
“You planning on company?”
“It’s a double,” he replies, smoothing it out.
“Seems excessive.”
“I need to move my legs. I feel too constricted otherwise.”
“So you’re the worst kind of person to share a bed with?” What the fuck am I saying?
“You can answer that for yourself in the morning.”
I don’t respond directly because it’s too dangerous as it is, and just push the pillows as far away from each other as possible. “Do you want a blanket? There’s one left.”
Carey takes it from me and lays it out like a quilt on his side of the bed, then crawls over it to burrow down into his cocoon.
I shimmy back down to the foot of the mattress to switch off the dome light, and when I turn around my hand accidentally grazes his leg.
I force myself to keep moving.
The darkness is so much more consuming than it was before, and that’s when I notice he put the fire out.
I cover myself in the blankets and stare up at where the van’s ceiling would be if I could see it.
I try to pretend I’m alone, but Carey makes the faintest sound every time he exhales, and the synthetic fabric of the sleeping bag crinkles whenever he shifts. That’s a good sound though, it means there’s a barrier between us.
He rolls over fully, and my chest twitches when I feel the mattress shift beneath me.
“Are you warm enough?” I ask when he moves again, because the truth is, after ten minutes, I’m freezing down to my bones.
“This thing's rated for below freezing. So I’m fine.”
I know he’s looking at me. Even though I’m on my back and my eyes are closed, I can feel the heat of it burning through the darkness.
I try to fall asleep, but that cold pocket in my chest just won’t go away.
The only thing I can think about is the space between our bodies and how easy it would be to close it.
But I don’t.
I won't.
I lay as still as I can but the night keeps getting colder.
My feet are numb.
I toss and turn until I know I’m facing Carey and have inched closer to him.
I feel Carey sit up, and I squeeze my eyes closed even tighter.
The rustle of his sleeping bag gets louder until I realize he’s laying the blanket I gave him over me.
He tucks it in as best he can then settles back down.
“It’s not a contest,” he says quietly. “If you’re cold we can share the sleeping bag.
I can unzip it and lay it out—I mean. It doesn't have to be weird.”
I open my eyes, and through the faintest outline of his head and shoulders, I can tell he’s propped up on one arm.
I look to where his eyes should be and imagine that he’s looking at me too.
Maybe he is.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a mess if I took him up on his offer.
Maybe it would be alright if I unzipped it a little and slide my body in next to his so I could soak up his warmth. But I know I’d never survive it. So I just say, “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
Carey sighs, drops back down to his side, and for a while it’s quiet again. But I can’t stop thinking about us both wrapped up together without our sweats on, my chest pressed against his back, or the other way around. I wouldn’t mind. I’d lay however he wanted.
I wonder if he’s hard, if I’d be able to tell through the sleeping bag, and if he’d let me do anything about it.
The want is so strong it makes my spine hurt.
I’m still wrestling with it when he pipes up again out of nowhere.
“Hey, Tek?”
“What?”
"Have you ever tried cock warming?"
I cough, almost choking on my tongue. "What the fuck?"
"You know." His voice goes timid. "You get hard, put it inside but don't move. You get all the heat and don't have to do any work."
There's no way I can answer that, especially with the image already so vividly in my imagination; Carey lying beneath me, open and waiting, making some dumb joke about conserving energy. My hands on his hips holding him still. The want to move burning through me.
"I tried it once," he says. "With a girl I was seeing in Hawaii. It's weird, but you feel secure, you know? Like the other person's not going anywhere. It's just you, and them, and you can't think of anything else."
I dig my fingers into my thighs as hard as I can to try and kill the thought, because I know exactly what he means, and I can't admit that. Not to him. Not even to myself.
"So… If you ever get a chance—if you haven't already, I mean. It's obviously easiest with a girl… Unless you wanna diversify."
There's a snicker in his tone.
A dare.
I could answer, God knows I want to. I want to know what it feels like to sink into him, or… what it would be like to be the one sunken into.
My stomach warms at the thought.
I could make a joke.
I could say a thousand filthy things.
But instead I roll away from him and pull the blankets up higher.
“Goodnight,” I say, unable to hold it in any longer, but it comes out like a threat.
Carey does what I need him to do and keeps his mouth shut, except now the silence feels less like empty space and more like a wall between us.
I lie there, strung out and raw, listening to the slow cadence of his breathing. My body is cold, but there’s a fire in my belly that keeps me awake for hours.
I need to get away from him.
I want to go home.
But the only thing worse than being trapped in this van with him would be being anywhere else.