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Once we’ve both changed, we hang our wet things at the other end of the shelter with everyone else’s. We eat the food we should have had for lunch, and then, though it’s barely dark, we retire. There’s not much else to do and it’s not like it was going to be a late night anyway—I think everyone is as physically and emotionally drained as I am from the day we’ve had.

Anna stops by each tent, delivering pieces of chocolate. I dig into a side pocket and discover that Six stashed enough mini-bottles of booze to share with the group, which certainly wouldn’t help my reputation if anyone knew who I was.

Chris plays a few songs on the ukulele and then reaches out through the tent flaps to the couple beside him. “Pass it along until it reaches someone who can play it,” he says.

Dietrich takes a turn and gives up, passing it to us. I start to hand it over to Kathy and Samantha, but Josh stops me.

“Play something,” he demands.

“What makes you think I can play the ukulele?”

“If you can play piano and guitar, I guarantee you can do this too.”

“It’s different,” I tell him. “It’s tuned differently.”

He leans back with his hands behind his head. “I wouldn’t start pissing off the only guy here who can keep you warm tonight.”

“I suspect Chris and Kai wouldn’t mind keeping me warm,” I suggest, and I laugh at his quiet growl before settling the ukulele in my lap.

I try a few chords to get a feel for it. Each string is tuned about a quarter note higher than a guitar, but otherwise, it isn’t so different. I start slowly with Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, which my father taught me to play long ago, and though I refuse to sing in case I give myself away, Kathy starts singing and soon everyone joins in.

They clap when the song’s over. “Holy shit, Lina,” says Kai. “Why didn’t you say something? Now I feel like an asshole.”

I play Ryan Adam’s version of Wildest Dreams, and then let it morph to the song I’ve been working on.

“I like that,” says Samantha. “Who is it?”

“No one,” I reply. “Just this Russian girl I knew back home.”

I try to hand the ukulele over, but no one is willing to follow me. “Keep playing, Lina!” they shout.

“Sorry,” I call back. “I’m too cold.”

“Liar,” says Kathy. “You just want to snuggle with your hot boyfriend.”

I laugh and Josh does too.

“Come here,” Josh says quietly. “Come snuggle with your hot boyfriend.” He’s joking but I thrill at the idea anyway. I lie down with my back to his chest and once I’ve stretched out, he takes my sleeping bag and the extra one and pulls them over the top of us both.

He angles himself so his crotch is not against me, but the heat of his chest is plenty, and after another hesitant moment, his hand—broad, possessive—lands on my waist and slides to my hip.

The shelter grows quiet as tent flaps finally close for the night. I can feel his breath against the top of my head.

“Tell me something, Josh,” I whisper. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

He presses his face to the top of my head and holds it there for a moment, as if he’s saying a prayer.

“I was jealous,” he says quietly.

“What?” I roll toward him, not understanding.

He meets my gaze for only a moment, then his eyes fall closed. “The night we met? The shit I said about you stealing the silver? I was just pissed off and jealous, and I didn’t think he should get to wind up with someone like you. But instead of saying it all, I made it sound like my problem was with you. And I’m so unbelievably sorry you heard that.”

I roll over again and press my back to his chest. I wish his hand, now resting lightly on my hip, would slide up along my rib cage. That he’d pull me tight against him, the way we woke this morning, and press his mouth to my neck. I wish I could hear the sound of his breathing grow heavy as I reached back to grasp him.

I picture him rolling me to my back, his hands exploring my body, tugging my shorts down. Slowly pressing inside me.

I squirm. It’s such a bad idea to let my brain venture down this path. He shifts onto his back then and I follow, rolling into the curve of his arm to face him.