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Maybe Beckett was simply asexual.
Or maybe Beckett was too shy to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship.
Or maybe Beckett was too busy.
Or maybe Beckett wanted to save himself for marriage, not because of any faith, but for his own personal reasons.
Or maybe Beckett wasn’t waiting for marriage, but simply to do it with someone he loved, someone he was serious about.
Or maybe Beckett did have sex, he just kept it on the down-low. That was the theory Miles thought about the most. Not because it was the most likely, necessarily, but because it was the only theory that allowed Miles to imagine it: Beckett having sex. The kind of faces he’d make. The sounds he’d let out. The way he’d position his body. Would he be on top, forearms against the mattress, gripping the bedsheets? Or would he be on the bottom, watching his partner bounce above him, his huge palms on their hips—
“What are you thinking about?” Beckett asked.
“Nothing,” Miles blurted.
Beckett was wearing an amused smile, but it quickly faded when he looked closer at Miles. “Your teeth are chattering.”
“What? No.”
They were, and his skin was covered in goosebumps, and he was shivering. Miles hadn’t noticed because he’d been lost in his thoughts, imagining his best friend having sex like a total pervert.
Beckett was already pulling his hoodie off.
“No, you don’t have to. It’s my own fault for not bringing my own.”
Beckett ignored his protests and pulled the hoodie over Miles’s head. He adjusted it so the hem fit around Miles’s waist, then put the hood up so Miles’s ears were protected from the wind.
“Now you’ll be cold,” Miles said.
“I’ll be okay,” Beckett said.
Miles sank back into the hoodie. It was a lot warmer now. “It smells like you.”
Beckett tensed, ever so slightly. “Sorry.”
“No, no. It smells good.”
Something flittered over Beckett’s lips, so quick it was almost imperceptible. Miles saw it though: the pleased smile. Then Beckett cleared his throat and nodded at the horizon. “Sun’s setting now.”
In silence, they watched the sun dip down into the sea. Miles took several photos, but the camera didn’t capture just how bright and vivid the sun looked as it was swallowed by waves.
“Don’t you want to take any photos?” Miles asked Beckett.
“I left my phone at the campsite.”
“I’ll send these to you.”
After the last sliver of fiery sun disappeared, the surrounding sky was still pink and purple, but Miles realized the rest of the world had turned a hazy gray.
“We should head off before it gets too dark,” Beckett said.
They stood up and carefully walked over the large rocks before getting back onto the hiking track. It was much darker now, with the tree canopy above them blocking out any remaining light.
Miles turned his phone torch on and held it up so both of them could see. Ten minutes later, there was the sound of a sharp breath and a shoe sliding down dirt. Miles grabbed Beckett’s arm to keep him from tripping over. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Beckett said, grabbing a tree branch and straightening up. “Thanks.”
“No worries. We don’t have far to go, right?”
