I jostle awake to the sound of a child screaming somewhere near our tent. It’s not a distressed scream—more like the offended outrage of a kid who didn’t get what they wanted—but it cuts clean through sleep anyway.
My eyes drag open, the early morning light filtering soft and gold through the thin fabric above us… and immediately land on Korie.
They’re propped up on one elbow, hair a complete mess—which I only now realize is dyed a vibrant bright blue. Their eyes are warm and focused entirely on me. Like they’ve been watching me for a while. Smiling.
I squint at them, still half caught in sleep, brain slow and trying to catch up.
“Creepy,” I mumble, voice rough.
Their smile widens.
I press my palm over their face, shoving lightly. “Stop staring at me.”
Korie laughs against my hand, the sound muffled and bright. “You’re the one who was talking in your sleep.”
I freeze. “Uhh. No, I wasn’t.”
“You were. And it was adorable. You said, ‘The bird is going to eat you.’”
I wrinkle my nose. “How is that adorable? That sounds terrifying.”
Korie cackles.
I groan and drop my hand, rolling onto my side to face them properly. Without thinking, I slide an arm around their waist, tugging them closer. They fit against me easily.
Heat coils low in my stomach when my naked body shifts against theirs, hard morning wood pressing into their belly. I inhale sharply, then force myself to relax. We definitely don’t have time for that right now.
Korie doesn’t comment. Instead, they lift a hand and brush their fingers along my scruffy cheek, slow and soft, their gaze searching mine. There’s something quieter in it this morning. Something steady.
They lean in to kiss me, tenderly and unhurried. No heat behind it, no urgency—just soft lips, shared breath, and a warmth that settles deep in my chest.
It means everything.
Then their eyes widen and they pull away in a hurry. “Oh my god. The surprise!”
The sudden loss of their body heat is unbearable. I try to pull them back, but Korie is already scrambling for their bags at the end of the tent. I prop up on my elbows, grinning wide.
“Oh, hello,” I tease, seeing their bare butt.
Korie smirks over their shoulder, then tosses something warm and soft at me. I lift it with one hand, then sit up to get a better look.
“You made us shirts?”
Korie sits cross-legged beside me, their expression a mix of apprehension and excitement.
“Hands off. They’re mine,” I say, reading the painted words aloud. Below them is an arrow pointing to the side.
Korie holds another shirt up in the same god-awful lime green. The black lettering on their shirt reads,Hands off. He’s mine.The arrow is pointing in the opposite direction, so they point to each other when side-by-side.
I grin. “I love it.”
“Yeah? It’s not too cheesy?”
I kiss them. “It’s perfect.” It wouldn’t be our family campout without Korie in a bright shirt, anyway.
“Aris helped me,” Korie says, pointing out tiny bird marks across both shirts.
“Aww. That just makes them even cuter. Did you have to do lime green though? You know I hate lime green.”
