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18
CARLEIGH
The night goes late.
The group stops being loud around eleven, in accordance with the campground rules, but our fire burns until after one in the morning.But even then, after the full day of sun and water and that evening’s impromptu beer darts tournament, I can’t sleep.Maybe the fresh air thing is a lie after all..
I stare at the roof of the tent I’m sharing with Sawyer and Molly, thinking about Bryson.How is any of this supposed to work?It’s too new of a relationship - if it even is that - for us to actually live together, like same-bedroom-same-closet live together.At the same time, it seems odd for us to keep living like nothing’s changed.And yet still, I don’t want him to move out.
I’ve accounted for none of this in my five-year plan.
“Carleigh, I can hear you thinking,” Molly mumbles sleepily.“Everything okay?”
I turn over in my sleeping bag.“Yeah.Just trying to work something out.”
Molly lifts herself up on her elbow.“Why don’t you go over to Bryson’s tent and let him work it out?”she teases in a light whisper.Even in the darkness, I can see her devilish grin.
“Oh.”I flop onto my pillow.“It’s not that.”
“Well, whatever it is, maybe you just need to talk to him.”
I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the dying crackle of the campfire.It’s mostly out now; I can smell the smoke.“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Go on, Carleigh,” Sawyer pipes in softly.“He’s got his own tent.Go for a walk or something.”
“No, I …” I trail off, confused again.It feels rude to go wake Bryson up, but on the other hand, we really need to think through the logistics of this whole thing.I do some of my best work late at night; why would this be any different?
So, I unzip my sleeping bag and quietly put my flip-flops on.
“Go to sleep,” I tell my friends, then silently slip out of the tent.
I make my way as quietly as possible over to the small one-man tent that I know belongs to Bryson.It’s dark inside, but I don’t hear the faint snoring that I occasionally hear from his bedroom, so he must be at least mostly awake.I slowly undo the zipper of the tent and kneel just inside.
Gently, I shake his leg.“Bryson,” I whisper.
He stirs, slightly at first, then sits up in a panic when he realizes who it is.“Carleigh?”he says.“Everything okay?”
“Shh,” I hush, putting a finger in front of my lips.“I wanted … do you want to go for a walk?”
It’s dark, but the moonlight streaming in behind me has illuminated his face enough for me to see the soft look on his face.“Yeah,” he whispers.“Okay, yeah.”
I wait for him on the road between campsites while he gets dressed.It doesn’t take long.As soon as he reaches me, he takes my hand.We don’t talk for nearly five minutes as we walk among silent tents and campers; it’s only when we’re far enough away from people and have reached the concrete slip of the boat launch and accompanying docks that he speaks.
“I hope this isn’t you dragging me out of bed to break up with me before we’re even dating,” Bryson says, honest like always.
I’m alarmed by that.“What?No, of course not,” I assure him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before we walk down to sit at the end of the dock.
Bryson folds himself down onto the wood.“Okay, so what are you messing up my beauty sleep for?”
I sit down next to him, cross legged, and shrug somewhat miserably.“I couldn’t sleep,” I confess.“I just kept thinking about how it’ll work at home, and that it’s too soon to move into one bedroom, but is it weird to have a first date with someone you share a bathroom with?How do I get dressed up if you’re there watching me?”
To my surprise, Bryson just gives me a soft smile.“Carleigh.”
“What?”
He chuckles.“That brain of yours is really working overtime all the time, isn’t it?”He moves his legs around to bracket me, pulling me to sit facing him, between his legs, so I can see his face.My knees fall in line with his hips.“Carleigh, I’ll do whatever it takes to work.I’ll leave while you’re getting dolled up.You don’t have to get dolled up, but if you want to, I’ll leave.I’ll go get cheap flowers and knock on the door and the whole nine yards, if it helps.”He strokes my waist.“It’s a little unconventional, but I like that, baby.And I like you.And that’s all that matters.The rest of that is all just noise.Okay?”
I smile at him, already feeling less stressed out.He always seems to know what to say and how to say it.He’s definitely on the sensitive side, as far as emotional intelligence goes.I wonder if he’s this in tune with everybody, or if it’s just me.
