Day 31
Him
Our pace is good, but our supplies are running low, so I keep leading us at a brutal speed all throughout the sixth day. The last part of the trail features another ridge, the tallest one we’ve climbed so far, but she doesn’t complain.
If this were a normal, leisurely hike, I would’ve complained, pointing out it’s unfair how she’s walking ahead of me with those skintight leggings. But she doesn’t know me like that, so I keep the teases to myself.
“It’ll get much colder at the top,” I warn as we stop for water and some food. I offer to share my rations with her out of courtesy, but she opts for her granola bars instead. “We should layer up before going to sleep.”
“Maybe we could build the fire a little closer to the tent?” she suggests, drinking small sips of water, and I know it’s because there isn’t much left.
“It’s probably not safe.” I try to let her down gently. “The direction of the wind can change in the middle of the night, and both the tent and the sleeping bags are highly flammable.”
“Right.” She stretches a little with a sigh, extending her arms up. “Good thing you’re here, or I would have marshmallow-ed myself to death.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s hard to fight the smile that accompanies it.
“So, I was thinking about something,” she starts when we resume our walk.
“Sounds dangerous,” I comment, “but continue.”
She gives me an amused huff. “Since it’s evident that we’re planning to stick together—at least for the foreseeable future,” she adds hurriedly.
“I thought maybe we could… try to get to know each other, a little bit? We don’t need to compare therapy experiences or anything that deep, but I think maybe knowing your name—”
“It’s not a good idea.”
So much for gently letting her down.
“Can you give me an actual, reasonable explanation as to why?” She’s pissed, and it shows in her strides which turn into stomping. Good thing we’re the only ones around. “A non-jerk-like explanation if possible.”
“The general reason is that I’m not so big on people, really.” I shrug. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me, and all that.”
“That’s such a fucking cop-out,” she grits through her teeth. “Who hurt you, huh? Did you not get enough hugs as a child?”
I ignore the sting.
“I could still tell you my name, you know. Nothing’s stopping me. I can talk for hours about myself, so even if you don’t want to, you’re gonna learn it anyway—”
“Knowledge is power,” I interrupt. “You really want me to know everything about you while I share nothing in return?” I give her a glance, and her tight lips reveal to me she knows I’m right. “Right now, we’re equal. But if you really want to give me an advantage…”
It’s a risk, spurring her on like that, but I count on her pride to make her fall for it, and it works. “Advantage?” she repeats angrily. “I thought we were a team, not rivals.”
“And I bet when you woke up a month ago, you also thought life was going to be normal.” I climb a rock that’s blocking the path and offer my hand to help her, but she swats it aside. “We’re a team now. I don’t know what we will be tomorrow.”
She doesn’t reply as she hoists herself up over the rock on her own.
“Nothing’s set in stone in this new world.” I try to be reasonable as opposed to snarky as I say it. “Trust me, it’s for the best for both of us.”
“So altruistic.” There’s enough venom in her voice to put down a horse. “Fine, then. It’s not like I was dying to get to know you, anyway.”
I don’t say another word until we find another lake and make a stop, and she doesn’t, either.
I told her not to wash her hair, citing a lack of time, but she ignored me, and now she’s facing the consequences.
It’s not like I’m planning to say I told you so, but as we set up camp, it’s evident that the thick black strands are still damp, and I can see her shivering with every little gust of wind.
“I’ll get a fire started. We can make some tea,” I offer, knowing better than to mention it’ll mostly be for her.
“We don’t have much water left,” she says through clenched teeth.
“We’ll manage.”
She doesn’t reply and I take it as a sign of agreement.
After I get the fire going, she practically sits on top of it to get warm, even after her hair looks dry.
I watch her closely as she eats and sips her tea, hoping that she’s doing better.
We have the trail to finish tomorrow, and she’s already pissed at me; if she gets sick, it’ll only make things worse.
We get ready for bed early, like most of the other nights out here. Just like the ones before, she waits until I get inside the tent to step into the dark woods and change, but today, she slides into her sleeping bag while still wearing her coat.
That can’t be a good sign.
“Do you want some extra layers?” I offer as she tucks her journal under her makeshift pillow. “I have a few—”
“I’m good,” she rudely interrupts. “Night.”
“Suit yourself,” I mumble, turning away from her. The girl is fucking exhausting.
Despite being more than tired, I struggle to doze off, probably thanks to the sounds of her tossing and turning and the wind that’s howling outside. I force myself to count sheep, think happy thoughts, and outright command myself to sleep before realizing it’s clearly not working.
She lets out an occasional frustrated sigh, so I know she’s probably struggling just the same. I’ve slept next to her for almost two weeks now, and this tent is much smaller than any motel room. I know when she’s awake.
“I can hear your teeth chattering from here,” I murmur at around two a.m. It’s not like I’m sleeping, anyway, and clearly, she isn’t either.
“I’m fine.” The words are barely audible from how tight she’s clenching her jaw.
“You’re going to catch something if you don’t get yourself warm,” I warn her, and she scoffs.
“No, I won’t. That’s a myth.”
“Is hypothermia also a myth?” I huff. “At least take my coat or something.”
She’s quiet for a moment and I think she might be considering it. “I’ve already layered up. It’s not helping.”
I groan, knowing what the next logical option is. It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. “We should try sharing body heat.”
“That’s un-ne-cessary,” she declares, but her chattering teeth make her stutter. “I t-told you, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, and I’ll be the one having to treat you for pneumonia.” I unzip my sleeping bag. “Now are you getting in here, or do I have to use force?”
She wants to refuse, I can bet on it, but a gust of wind howls around us, and the rustle of fabric tells me she’s wincing in her sleeping bag.
“Don’t get a-any ideas,” she warns as she gets closer, her limbs so stiff she has to drag herself to my side of the tent.
“Me? Never.”
I wonder if she knows me well enough by now to spot the sarcasm.
She’s freezing when she slants her back against me, and my arms wrap around her to share my heat, cocooning us together. I don’t have to tell her to intertwine her legs with mine. She shivers relentlessly for another five minutes before the warmth from my body finally starts to seep to hers.
“Maybe you should take off your coat,” I say, mostly to keep my mind from fixating on her citrus scent filling my nostrils like a potent drug. “It’ll be easier to share body heat without it.”
The fact she doesn’t protest shows me just how cold she must be feeling.
When she settles back into my arms, her figure is much less bulky than it was. I couldn’t fully make out the contours of her body before, but now, every curve and dip in her frame presses right against me as she fusses with the sleeping bag’s zipper.
“It’s not made for two,” she laments with a sigh. “I don’t think it’ll close.”
I don’t reply, but I tuck her closer to me. My hands leave her momentarily to catch the metallic latch. “Hold the two ends together.”
We manage to pull it closed, my hands reaching hers at the top, and the moment the zipping sound stops, all that fills my senses are her soft breaths.
And that fresh, enticing scent—I think it’s coming from her hair. It’s silky and fragrant against my chin, not itchy like I imagined it’d be.
“It’s a little… tight,” she observes awkwardly.
“We’ll manage.” Her shivering has subsided, but I still run my hand over her arm. “Better? Warm?”
“Mhm.” She sounds resigned, almost sheepish. “Thank you.”
She might be warmer, but after a few minutes, she starts squirming with discomfort.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to sleep here,” I mumble.
“My shoulder hurts,” she hisses. “Just trying to find a way to—”
“Turn the other way, then.”
“I’m not going to sleep facing you. That’s weird.”
I sigh and tighten my grip around her waist, forcing her to stop moving. If pinning her to me is the only way to get her to stay still…
“I’m not a teddy bear,” she grits out, but as I place my arm beneath her shoulder, cushioning her weight, I can feel some tension leaving her body.
“You sure? You kinda feel like one.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” She’s more amused than offended.
“You can interpret it however you want,” I say, instead of voicing what I want to. You’re soft and small and comforting, so, no. Not an insult.
She stays quiet for a long while, so long that I think she’s fallen asleep, but my own sleep eludes me. I was the one to suggest this arrangement, but when I did, I didn’t consider how soft her hair is. Or how enticing she smells. Or how the curve of her ass is pressing right into—
Her gasp fills the air. “Are you hard right now?!”
“Can you blame me?” My voice is thicker than I’d like. “You’re rubbing your ass all over my dick.”
She’s stunned into silence, but I can feel the quickening of her breaths. “No I’m not,” she protests weakly, her resolve so faint, it’s barely noticeable. For some reason it only makes me harder. Is this what she sounds like when she lets her guard down?
“Ignore it,” I say, as if it’s a possibility, with her pressed so flush against me. In the back of my mind, I note to myself she hasn’t made an effort to move.
“I can’t exactly ignore the giant erection that’s poking my—” She cuts herself off, but my grin’s already in place.
“Giant, huh?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she tries and I can just imagine the blush that must be staining her cheeks.
“How did you mean it then?” My lips ghost her neck and she shivers.
“I—” Her breath hitches, and my mouth quirks up when it feels her pulse quickening beneath it. “Forget it.”
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” I drawl. “I think that’s going to be… hard.”
“Can we stop talking about your dick?” she asks desperately.
“Why? Is it making you wet?”
A beat of silence. “Of course not—”
“Ohhh.” The sound that escapes me is drawn out, amused. “You are wet.”
“I am not,” she insists. “Just go back to sleep—”
“You’re not? Then why are you rubbing your thighs together?”
I hear her jaw snap shut.
I want nothing more than to reach lower and find out just how right I am. I can imagine it already. My fingers dipping below the waistband of her leggings. Pulling aside her underwear. Finding her soaked for me. Parting her wet folds—
I grip her waist with steel-like force to stop my hands from acting it out.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything about it,” I assure her, even if my straining cock screams at me to do many, many things about it. “Unless, of course, you want me to.”
“In your dreams,” she shoots back breathlessly.
“Oh, you can bet on that.” I grind into her just a little, and her gasp is electric. “You want all kinds of things in those.”
I think I’ve finally rendered her speechless, and in the silence, a different kind of need blends with my existing one.
I want to hear her saying my name. Moaning it, preferably, but the mere sound of it passing her lips would be good enough.
Which is why I know I have to put a stop to this, before I break the rules that I’ve set.
“Go to sleep,” I hum in her ear. “If you gather up the courage to ask for it, it’ll still be here tomorrow.”