"I'm being generous right now. I'm letting you use me as a mattress."
I laugh, the sound startling in the quiet room. "I think you're enjoying being used as a mattress."
"I'm tolerating it."
"You carried me to bed last night. That's more than tolerating."
His hand stills on my back. "You remember that?"
"Vaguely. I remember you telling me to shut up."
"You were trying to walk and you kept veering into walls. It was inefficient."
"Inefficient." I lift my head again, grinning at him. "So you’re saying you carried me to bed because I was being inefficient?"
"Yes."
"Not because you wanted to?"
"Wanting had nothing to do with it."
"Liar."
He doesn't deny it. His eyes hold mine, warm with something I'm only beginning to recognize. Affection, maybe. Or the tentative first stages of something deeper.
"Breakfast," he says finally. "Then I'll show you something."
"Show me what?"
"Something I don't show people."
Curiosity sparks. "Now I'm intrigued."
"Good. Get up."
He rolls out of bed, leaving me cold and bereft in the sheets. I watch him disappear into the bathroom, admiring the way his shoulders move under his thin t-shirt, the confident set of his spine.
I am in so much trouble.
Breakfast is the same as it’s been all week with coffee from the percolator I've finally mastered. We eat facing each other, but the table feels smaller now. Our knees brush underneath. He steals a piece of bacon from my plate. I steal it back.
"So where are we going?" I ask as I clear the dishes.
"About a mile north. There's something up there I want you to see."
"A mile in which direction? Through easy terrain or difficult terrain?"
"Medium terrain. Wear the hiking boots Mace brought."
I change into tactical pants, thermal layers, and the hiking boots that have given me blisters I'm trying to ignore. When I emerge, Deck is waiting by the door with a small pack over his shoulder.
"What's in the bag?"
"Supplies."
"For what?"
"Stop asking questions and follow me."
