We separate instantly. She hops off the counter while I grab the nearest mug and turn towards the sink, hiding the wet patch in my jeans. A parent walks into the kitchen a second later holding a stack of plastic cups.
“Oh good,” he says. “I thought I’d bring these up before you guys finish.”
I nearly die at the innuendo. Freya smiles brightly. “Great idea.”
He drops the cups beside the sink. Then he disappears back down the corridor. The silence that follows is… loud. Freya exhales slowly. I run a hand through my hair.
“Well,” I say. “That happened.”
She looks at me then laughs quietly. “You are trouble.”
“You kissed me back.”
“That was a lapse in judgement.”
“Convenient.” I say with a smirk.
She shakes her head and picks up the tea towel again but her cheeks are still flushed and the air between us is still humming. Which means the rest of this trip just became significantly more complicated.
Chapter forty
Freya
The problem with camping is that everyone insists it’s relaxing. Fresh air. Nature. Simplicity. Early nights. All of which sounds lovely in theory until you are lying in a sleeping bag on a slightly lumpy ground mat while your brain decides now is the perfect time to replay the most chaotic yet amazing five minutes of your life on an endless loop.
I roll onto my side for what must be the twentieth time and stare at the faint outline of the moon glowing through the tent canvas.
Outside is quiet now. Not completely silent. Forests never are. There’s the occasional rustle of wind through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the gentle shifting sounds of canvas as someone somewhere turns over in their sleeping bag. But compared to the daytime chaos, it feels almost peaceful. Which would be lovely if my brain would shut up for five minutes. Unfortunately, it will not. Because my brain is currently replaying Rory’s mouth on mine in extremely vivid detail.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Right. That helps. Except it doesn’t. If anything it makes it worse, because now the memory arrives with sound effects. His voice when he said my name. The way his moans melted with mine. Brilliant. I flop onto my back again and stare up at the tent ceiling. “This is ridiculous,” I whisper to absolutely no one. Because it is. It was a kiss. Okay, technically it was… more than a kiss. We dry humped like horny teenagers.But still. People kiss people all the time without immediately spiralling into a full-blown emotional crisis in the middle of a field in Wales.
I shove my hands over my face and groan quietly into my sleeping bag. The problem isn’t really the kiss. The problem is how much I wanted it. How natural it felt. How my entire body apparently decided that yes, this was exactly what we had been waiting for and we should absolutely lean into it. And apparently, Rory’s body decided that too. Which is deeply inconvenient. Because Rory is Rory. Myfriend.The man who shook my hand a few months ago and promised we would keep things simple.
I turn onto my side again. And immediately glance toward the tent flap. Because another problem has now presented itself. Rory’s tent is only about ten metres away.Ten metres.Which is a dangerously short distance when your brain is currently suggesting extremely poor life choices. I stare at the fabric flap like it might open on its own. What if he’s awake too? What if he’s lying there thinking exactly the same thing? My stomach does an unhelpful little flip. Because if he is… Well. It would be very easy to just…No. Absolutely not.I sit up abruptly, dragging my hands through my hair. “That is a terrible idea,” I mutter. For several reasons.
One: we are on a school trip.
Two: there are approximately thirty children within screaming distance.
Three: this is Rory. And Rory complicates things. He always has. He always will.
I flop back down again with a dramatic sigh that rustles the sleeping bag loudly then I reach for my phone. Because clearly the only logical solution here is to involve Clara. Clara, who has absolutely no sense of restraint when it comes to these things and will absolutely suggest I head into Rory’s tent and finishwhat we started. The screen lights up my sleeping bag like a tiny torch. I open our messages.
Freya:Are you awake?
Three dots appear almost immediately. Of course she’s awake.
Clara:Yes. Trouble in paradise Sunshine?
Freya:Hypothetically speaking… if someone kissed someone today… on a school trip… in a kitchen…
I hit send. There’s a pause. Then:
Clara:YOU KISSED RORY?!
Freya:Yes but Shhhh.
Clara:I AM WHISPERING IN TEXT.
