It took a while for it to wear off. We’d stop, but then one of us would start again, and off we’d go. Eventually, though, we wound down, and I was left with my nose in his neck. “Sorry I got your neck wet. I was laughing so hard I cried.”
“’S’okay,” he rasped. After a pause, he said, “Are yousmellingme?”
“I…” Had been. It was impossible not to notice, jammed in there like I was, his aftershave or whatever it was. It was medicinal, like eucalyptus maybe, or rosemary, but with an overlay of something citrusy. “Sorry,” I finally said. “You smell good.” I could feel my face flush. At least that was one perk of being lost in the woods at night—no one could see you blush.
“Uh, thanks?”
I tried to adopt a businesslike tone as I said, “I think this is going to work better if we spoon.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
“Do you want to spend the whole night with me lying here smelling your neck?”
“All right, all right.”
I wrangled myself over and settled back against him. He half sat up and tugged the edge of the blanket over me. “Lift your knee,” he prompted, tucking me in. When he settled back, we did some scooching and adjusting and, finally, we were settled.
“I guess I shouldn’t have assumed I’d get to be the little spoon,” I said into the darkness.
He shushed me and threw an arm over me. It was… nice.
“We’re stuck here now,” I said.
“Yes. You can’t move. This was too hard-won.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
“You should have thought of that before.”
I made a little noise of dismay, and he said, quickly, “Of course if you have to go to the bathroom, you have to go to the bathroom.”
“I don’t. That was just a generic expression of unease.”
“Are you thinking about bears again?”
“NowI am.”
“Sorry. Can you try to sleep?”
“Maybe.” Surprisingly, I thought I could. I felt like I was having an adrenaline crash. “Don’t leave me, though.” For some reason, I needed to not be alone for my hypothetical bear mauling. Everyone dies alone, they say, but not me. I was going to die with a rock star named after a poet.
“Never,” he said gruffly, his tone more in keeping with a solemn vow than comforting my scaredy-cat self.
“I just mean if you have to pee or something. Can you wake me up if I’m asleep and you need to get up?”
“Yes.” His top arm tightened around me, and it was… still nice. It wasreallynice. I wouldn’t say I was warm, but I was no longer freezing. I felt… not safe exactly, but… sorted.
I yawned.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up, unsure how long I’d been asleep. I was cold and uncomfortable—so much for sorted and not cold.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“How long was I out?” I whispered back.
“I don’t know, maybe an hour?”
“Did you sleep?”
