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“Listen to me, Ollie. You’re not making it weird, you never have, so stop apologizing for it. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Something warm wriggles in my chest. I turn my face away, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my lips. “Thanks, Campbell.”
“It’s an honor,” he says, solemn as ever, but his eyes crinkle again. “Come on.”
He drops one of my hands and suddenly it’s the most important thing to me that we keep touching. But, for some reason, Wesley doesn’t drop the other one. Instead, he grips it tighter and leads me along the snowy trail.
Despite his reassuring words, I can’t help but squirm internally. Obviously, Wesley wouldn’t want to share a bed. I know he likes his personal space yet I still messed it up.
I would have thought that three years of friendship would bring us closer together, and stuff like that wouldn’t matter anymore. Or maybe I’m just looking for more closeness and more touch when I should be grateful for what Wesley gives me.
I grip his hand tighter, heat spreading through me. I don’t know why he’s allowing this. Probably so I don’t run off and get lost - we both know how distracted I get by the smallest things.
Holding hands is just another practicality, nothing more.
*
We arrive at the cabin around three, as the sun is getting ready to set. The damn winter weather has us shivering with cold. My feet feel like I’ve plunged them into a bucket of ice and the ends of my pants are soaked through from the snow.
The cabin itself is nice and made mostly of wood. It doesn’t take long to tour the living room, which the front door opens directly into, and the tiny kitchen attached to the side. The living room narrows into a corridor with two closed doors that must be the bathroom and the bedroom, but I drag Wesley back to the living room before he can look in them.
Not yet.
He gives me a weird look but goes along with it. Untangling our hands, he leads me to the fabric couch seated in front of a small log fireplace. I shiver, but this time I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the lost warmth of his skin.
Settling onto the couch, I blink up at him. “It’s getting late, Wes, let me make us dinner. You must be starving.”
Granola bars and bananas can only go so far.
“You’re freezing,” he says, a frown pulling on his face. “Sit. I’ll start the fire and get you some hot chocolate to warm up.”
My ears perk at the idea, and I wriggle back happily. Cold nylon shifts against my skin and I hiss at the sensation. I need to get out of these clothes. My mom always says the best way to get sick is by wearing cold, wet clothes.
Now that I’m studying Biology, I obviously know it’s the bacteria that does that, but I can’t deny I’ll feel better if I’m warm and dry. The last thing I want to do is ruin this trip by sniffling and coughing.
Wesley unpacks his bag and brings out a box of matches, firewood, and some kindling before he goes to work setting up the fire. The cabin doesn’t have overhead lights, but Wesley turns on the battery-powered lamp in the corner.
I watch him in the dim light as I undress. First my jacket, then the undershirt, and finally the vest I wore on Wesley’s request. Lifting my hips, I’m unbuckling my belt when I hear a sharp inhale, and a large hand slams over mine, stopping me.
I blink up at Wesley.
“What are you doing?” His eyes are wide, disheveled hair falling over his forehead.
“Removing my pants.”
“I can see that,” he says, and his voice sounds strange. “But why?”
I gesture to the soaked hems. “They’re damp and freezing; it’ll be good to get out of them and stay warm. You should take yours off, too.”
Wesley looks down. His hand is still over mine, settled directly over my belt. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. The contact makes me warm all over, and absently I lift my hips to take my pants off.
When I start moving, Wesley yanks his hand back. He whirls around, refusing to meet my gaze.
He clears his throat and goes back to the fire. “Put on your spare change of clothes when you’re done.”
His voice is commanding, leaving no space for an argument. Not that I want to argue. I think I like it when he bosses me around.
Wesley is a quiet guy but, when he speaks, he’s kind and considerate to everyone, if a bit blunt. He usually fades into the background whenever the gang is together, content to watch me and Luke get into a shouting match over the best sitcoms or listen to Callum complain about all the girls he doesn’t have sex with.
