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“There has to be something you can do,” I say, staring at the shop clerk in disbelief.
He shrugs and smooths a hand over his white mustache. “Sorry, son. Cabin’s only got the one bed, and the others are all booked for the week.”
“Maybe we could get an air mattress?”
“Not if you want to hike the trail anytime today, son. Thing’s heavier than both of you could carry.” The clerk taps a quick rhythm on the checkout counter and points to a door behind him. “I’ll just be a moment. Grab that key for you and your boyfriend."
“He’s not my-"
But he’s gone, the door swinging closed behind him.
I groan, trying to think through the slight panic that overcomes me. A fluorescent light flickers and hums overhead, and outside the howl of the wind cuts through the answering quiet.
The convenience store is standard for a small town like Harper, Oregon. It’s the last stop before the trail to the peak and located halfway up the mountain, like a rest stop for hikers. Me and Wesley had dropped his pick-up truck at the base and had stopped here to buy last-minute supplies and grab the keys for the cabin we booked.
Well, that I booked. And apparently, I picked the wrong one. The one for romantic couples on their honeymoon, complete with only one bed.
I open my phone. On the screen, the confirmation email flashes in pink, white, and red: Thank you for booking with Heartbeat Retreat! Your honeymoon cabin includes 1 Bed and 1 Bath.
How was I supposed to know what Heartbeat Retreat meant? They were the cheapest option, the only cabin rental for groups of two, so obviously I went with them. It’s fine; I can sleep on the couch while Wesley sleeps in the room, and then it won’t be so bad. My stomach clenches at the thought. I really don’t want to sleep on a cold couch all night, but I can’t make Wesley do it. Not when it’s my fault this happened.
Booking accommodation for the trip was my one job. Wesley is the one who keeps the maps and the GPS, he’s the one with the latest equipment, and he plans the trip each year. All I had to do this time was book the cabin. And I managed to mess that up.
I can’t tell him there’s only one bed. At least, not yet. What if he cancels the trip? As much as I hate hiking, I’m excited to hang out with my best friend. Originally, we had planned to hike with the rest of our friend group, like always. But then everybody else bailed, tied up in other commitments and leaving just Wesley and me. Not that I would tell the others, but I’ve secretly always liked him the best.
“Fuck,” I say, scrubbing my eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Can’t believe what is happening?”
I let out a manly shriek, clicking my phone closed as a familiar dark-haired figure leans over my shoulder. Wesley quirks his lip into his signature smirk, revealing two dimples. For a moment, I’m overcome with the crazy idea of pressing my thumbs into them—
What the fuck am I thinking?
Shaking my head, I take a half-step away from him.
“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to calm my raging heartbeat. “Did you find the stuff?”
He gestures to the few items he’s holding. “Mission accomplished. What’s the status on the cabin?”
My stomach flips. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Perfect, even.”
The lie feels like oil on my tongue. Wesley raises an eyebrow, eyes filled with some indecipherable emotion, and for a moment it seems like he’s going to call me out but then he shrugs and holds up a flat, black box.
“Are they chopsticks?” I say.
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “It’s for you.”
That gets my attention. Warmth spreads through my veins, chasing away the chill inside the store, and I open the box. Inside is a very nice set of sketching pencils, a charcoal stick, a blending stump, and a kneadable eraser. Perfect supplies for drawing.
I fling myself at Wesley, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug without thinking. With our height difference, he towers over me, my head barely reaching his shoulder. His body goes rigid at my touch, stiffening beneath me. I should pull away. I should want to pull away. But he feels so good despite the layers of hiking gear between us, and we haven’t hugged in forever.
“Sorry,” I say. It takes me longer than it should to pull away and step back. “Sorry. I just love them so much, thank you. You’re the best.”
He ducks his head. His ears have turned a pretty shade of pink, giving his tanned skin a nice glow.
“They were on sale,” he says like this isn’t a big deal. “I read somewhere that artists like to hike the trail and paint the view at the peak.”
