“Originally, we had you in your own cabin,” she says. “There are only three women in your group, and we didn’t want to assign you with a man without asking. But… the fifth cabin had some water damage last week. It’s not safe until we can repair it, which might take a few days.”
I nod. No big deal. Until she keeps going.
“So, that leaves us with two options. We can ask your instructor to swap and room with one of the guys, which would open a space for you with another guy here. Or…” She hesitates. “You could room with Mr. Wilkes. He’s very well known here and respected, of course. But only if you’re completely comfortable with that.”
She looks at me the way women do when they understand the complexities they’re asking another woman to swallow. I know she’s trying to give me agency. But either way, someone ends up displaced.
I glance toward the other cabins. Emma and Chloe are already dragging bags inside theirs, faces flushed with sun and excitement. I won’t ask them to separate so I can squeeze in. And truthfully, I don’t mindany of the guys here. I’ve conversed with most of them in the lab or on campus, and we’re barely going to spend time indoors.
I’m about to say I’m fine with whoever—leave it up to fate—when Holden steps up beside us.
“Everything alright?” he asks, looking between the two of us.
The guide fills him in. His brows pull together slightly as he listens, then he nods once and turns to her.
“She can room with me,” he says. No hesitation. Just the usual Holden certainty, clipped and calm.
I blink. I want to protest. I really do. Because if being around Holden for a week is already pushing my limits, sharing a room with him? That’s like signing up for a masterclass in emotional masochism.
But at the same time… he’s right there. Solid. Respectful. The one person here I can actually predict, at least in this context. He’s never once crossed a line, and—if anything—he’s made it painstakingly clear where his own lies. Academic. Platonic. Professional.
That makes him the safest option. Logically.
I don’t have time to overthink it before she beams at Holden and turns to me for confirmation. I nod—once—and follow them both toward the first cabin.
Inside, it’s about the size of the dorm room I share with Maya. Narrow bunk beds in one corner, a small wooden table in the other, and a shared chest of drawers that looks like it’s seen salt and sun and at least a decade of field students. There’s a single window with slatted shutters that opens directly onto the shoreline. Even here, the air smells like seaweed and nature and volcanicstone.
I huff a quiet laugh under my breath. If I had Wi-Fi—or cell service—I’d text Kai that, despite all odds, the so-called inn comes withtwobeds, and that if this were a romance novel, readers everywhere would be fuming.
But I’m not. I’m fine. Grateful, even, that we don’t have to make this more awkward than it already is.
Besides, Holden’s not the type to offer if the arrangement weren’t clean-cut and unambiguous. He’s many things—brilliant, unreadable, frustrating—but careless? Never.
The woman reminds us that dinner will be in the shared tent in half an hour, then closes the door behind her.
Holden sighs, sits on the lower bunk, and runs a hand through his hair before looking up at me.
“Come here,” he says, crooking two fingers.
I blink. “Why?”
His brow lifts, just slightly. “Because I want to have a serious conversation with you. And you’re currently trying to merge with the wall.”
I step forward slowly, stopping just in front of him. It still throws me a little, how eye-level we are when he’s sitting. How close this feels, even with a full foot of space between us.
“Are you okay with this?” he asks.
“Are you?” I toss back, because it feels safer than answering first.
He studies me, expression flat but his eyes scanning every inch of mine. Like he’s trying to find the thing I’m not saying aloud. He doesn’t answer, not directly. Instead, he gestures toward the cabin door with a quick thumb.
“I stepped in because I know where I stand. I trust myself with you. What I don’t know is how I feel about you rooming with one of the other guys. I don’t know them well enough to judge their character.”
The words are simple. Offhanded, almost. But there’s a flicker of something—tight in his jaw, faint in his voice—that makes the back of my neck warm.
“If you’re not okay with this arrangement,” he adds, “I’ll figure something else out. I’ll stay in the damaged cabin. Whatever you need.”
“She said it’s not safe.”
