Me too, I’m about to say, but then his lips are on mine.
Our legs are tangled, the sleeping bag is tangled, my hair is tangled, everything is tangled up and still it’s not close enough and I press myself against him and hold onto him like we’re back in the ocean but the tide has come in and we’re drowning and he’s the only thing that will save me.
He’s breathing heavily, like he’s just run a race, and I wonder if I sound the same. He kisses my eyelids and runs his finger down my nose and over my lips and across my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone and then his finger dips lower beneath the loose collar of my sleeping shirt and I stop breathing.
So does he. I know because I can’t feel his chest moving and the sudden silence echoes in my ears.
“Is this OK?” he whispers, so softly, so quietly. And I want it to be. I want it to be OK more than I want anything and my body is screaming yes but I tell it to shush and I blink and try and draw myself out of this fog that I’m in where nothing matters but him.
My pause is answer enough. He sighs, a rough sound edged with disappointment, and moves his hand up to cup my face and kiss my forehead.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he says, and we curl up together like kittens, his arms around me, our legs still tangled, his breath on the back of my neck, the skin on his stomach pressing against the skin on my lower back where my shirt has ridden up.
I want to tell him I love him. The words have almost bubbled out of my mouth before I can stop them, but something, some defense mechanism I didn’t know I had, keeps my lips pressed closed and the words, poised on the tip of my tongue, so ready to dance out and declare themselves, are pushed back down, back into my heart instead. The whole effort almost makes me choke but I keep the words down. I shudder, once, and Aaron tightens his hold on me.
“Good night, Wing,” he says, and his voice is like the sand earlier tonight, soft and rough at the same time.
“Good night,” I whisper, only opening my lips a fraction, worried that if I say anything else, the words, those three traitorous words, will come bounding out and ruin everything.
CHAPTER 46
“Wing! Are you in there? Wake up! Wing!”
I’m dreaming that I’m wrapped in Aaron’s arms and someone is trying to wake me up.
“You better not be naked! I’m coming in!”
My eyes fly open and I try to sit up but I wasn’t dreaming, I really am wrapped in Aaron’s arms and someone is unzipping the tent.
Eliza pushes her head inside and she’s ferocious. “What. The. HELL! Wing! Come on! You’re gonna miss our morning run and Coach Kerry is not going to be happy about it.” She frowns at me. More than frowns, scowls. “I don’t know how we are gonna get you out of this tent and back to our tent without anyone noticing. It’s gonna be a goddamn sandy walk of shame, that is what it is gonna be.”
“Morning, Eliza,” mumbles Aaron without opening his eyes.
“And you!” Eliza reaches into the tent and smacks the bottom of the sleeping bag. I think she’s aiming for Aaron’s shin, but she gets my foot instead. “You shoulda known better! You know what camp is like. Don’t ‘morning, Eliza’ me! You both get your asses up and out NOW. Coach asked me where you were, Wing, and I said you weren’t feeling well so you’d gone on a morning walk. I already had to lie about where you were. Don’t make me do it again.”
“Eliza,” I whisper as I crawl out of Aaron’s sleeping bag. “I don’t have any shorts.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “You don’t have any pants! I want to hear about that later, but not right now. We don’t have time for you not to have any shorts!”
A whistle blows.
“Aaron, give her a pair of your running shorts.” If I thought Eliza was bossy before, it’s nothing like how she’s being now. “I am all for some moonlit make-out sessions, but you go back to bed where you are supposed to! And if you don’t do that, you wake up in time so you don’t get caught!” She shakes her head as I yank on a pair of Aaron’s running shorts and try to tamp down the thrill of wearing something of his.
Eliza straightens up. “OK, Coach is looking the other way. You’ve got about thirty seconds to get out, go around the other side of the tent, and look like you’re walking up toward us. Aaron, you better wait at least three minutes before you get out.”
Eliza disappears back into the sunshine and I stagger out behind her, careful to follow her instructions.
By the time I’ve changed into my running clothes and put my sneakers on, everyone else has finished stretching and is lined up for the morning beach run.
“Feeling better?” Coach Kerry asks from behind me and I jump. “Eliza said you weren’t feeling well. Are you sure you should be running?”
“I’m fine,” I say, looking at my shoes.