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“DON’T TELL ME I forgot it,” Miles said, staring into the dark abyss of the garbage bag he’d brought as a makeshift suitcase. He dug a hand around inside it, his fingers brushing over clothes, toiletries and towels. Not what he was looking for.
He squinted. He was kneeling inside his tent — well, it wasn’t his; he’d borrowed it from Beckett — and the visibility inside of it wasn’t the best. Besides, it was hot as hell in there, so maybe that was getting to his brain.
He turned the garbage bag upside down, emptying everything onto the floor. He pushed aside his underwear and socks and a book about the history of surgery.
Still no sleeping bag.
“Shit.” Miles stared at the mess he’d made before shoving everything back in the bag. Then, sick of the suffocating heat, he tossed himself outside.
And slammed into Beckett. Beckett’s naked stomach. He got an eyeful of abs before pulling his face off the man and straightening up. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Beckett took a step back and drew his brows together. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Hm?”
“Did you forget your swimmers—”
“No,” Miles interrupted him. That was why Beckett was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of navy shorts and flip-flops. That was why they’d gone into their separate tents in the first place; to change into their swimming trunks before heading to the beach.
An hour ago, the pair of them had arrived at Wilsons Promontory for a three-night camping trip. Wilsons Prom was located in the south-east of Australia, about a three hours’ drive from Melbourne. It was surrounded by beaches with pale sand and hiking trails that swooped over the green mountains. Beckett suggested that camping there would be a fun, cheap holiday for university students like them.
Originally, all six of them were supposed to come: Miles, Beckett, Ryan, Callum, Addison and Wesley. They met in the first year of university when they were flatmates and quickly became close friends. Even though they all moved out to different places for their second year, those five guys were still Miles’s best friends.
They’d all been looking forward to the camping trip, but then Ryan had a family thing and apologized about a thousand times for not being able to go, and Callum bailed to travel to Sydney with one of his girlfriends. Addison and Wesley both got internships at prestigious firms so they couldn’t make it either.
And sure, Ryan would have kept them up all night with his endless stream of chatter. Callum would have wandered off to flirt with random chicks. Addison and Wesley would’ve bickered the entire time and glared intensely at each other in a way that always made Miles feel like he was interrupting something. But they were his friends, and it sucked that they couldn’t come. But at the same time, Beckett was there, and Beckett had always been Miles’s favorite. Not that Miles would tell the others that.
“Miles?” Beckett said now, tilting his head.
“Just give me a minute,” Miles said before walking to the car parked on the edge of their campsite. It was Beckett’s car. He was the one who drove them while Miles slept the whole way.
He searched the car, and it didn’t take him long to realize the sleeping bag wasn’t there, because they’d already unloaded everything when they were setting up.
“You okay?” Beckett asked.
Okay, so forgetting to bring his sleeping bag wasn’t the end of the world. It just meant Miles had to sleep under a towel or something. It was summer anyway. It wouldn’t be bad.
He still felt shitty about forgetting it though. Beckett had done basically everything for this trip. He’d booked the camping spot and wrote a list of meals they’d eat. He’d brought the tents, the gas stove, gas canisters, the esky, the ice, the foldable chairs and the foldable table, the gazebo, the pots and pans and cutlery and all the food — bags and bags of food.
And sure, Beckett was raised in a family that camped often, so it made sense he already all the equipment. And Miles paid him back for the groceries. But still, Beckett had to spend all the time purchasing the food. Beckett had to pack his car with equipment. Beckett had driven them down while Miles snored.
All Miles had to do was bring his things, including one sleeping bag, and he’d messed that up.
Miles opened his mouth to respond. And lied. “Everything’s all good. Just give me another minute, and I’ll get changed.”
With that, Miles dove back into the boiling tent. He came out soon after with his swimming trunks on, flip flops on his feet, a towel in one hand and a bottle of sunscreen in the other.
Beckett’s eyes ran over Miles’s chest and torso before he fixed his gaze determinedly away. “Ready?”
Miles nodded. He knew he’d have to tell Beckett about the sleeping bag eventually. Beckett wouldn’t be mad or annoyed. Miles knew that, but he also knew that his stomach would twist, like he disappointed his friend. He would know, deep down, he’d been incompetent. And Miles hated being incompetent.
So yes, Miles would have to tell Beckett. Just not right now.
“Let’s go,” Miles said.
*
