His glance went to the sleeping bag, then back to me, his brows bunching together. With unusual hesitation he asked, “Is this a problem? Is it related to your medical issue?”
“What?” I gaped at him. “No!”
For fuck’s sake, I didn’t have a medical problem. I wished I did — because then my dick wouldn’t be trying valiantly to rise at the mere thought of being this close to Sam.
“Then?” he persisted.
I threw up my hands. “It’s a Russian thing, okay?”
Sam stepped back and gave me a look that spelled pure disbelief without him having to say a single word. “A Russian problem?”
“Yes!”
“Then how come I have never heard about this before?”
“Because there are things about me that you don’t know!”
He blinked at me as if I had said the most impossible thing. That only made me bristle more. “I have secrets, okay? I’m a very mysterious man.”
There was a beat of silence while Sam stared at me — and then, to my utter shock, he threw his head back and laughed. I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen Sam laugh like that. It was a deep, rich sound, and it went straight to my heart and to my cock. All my annoyance melted away.
I had the insane urge to kiss him. Terrified that my impulses were going to get the better of me, I quickly turned away and started setting up our evening meal. Sam passed by me on his way to unpack our bedding and casually ruffled my hair as he went.
We had a small portable kettle stove. I boiled water and prepared coffee for both of us. We had brought a supply of freeze-dried food as standard fieldwork rations, but Theo had prepared a fresh meal for us for tonight, so we didn’t have to touch the freeze-dried yet.
While the coffee brewed, I set up the pasta dinner to heat, using the steam from the boiling water to warm it through and covering it to hold the heat.
Sam had finished preparing the sleeping bag. The tent was small, and we couldn’t stand up straight but there was enough room to move around. Small, sturdy supply boxes lined one edge and made perfect stools. I handed Sam one of the steaming cups and sat down next to him on one of the boxes.
In comfortable silence, we both sipped the warm coffee and listened to the penguin chatter outside, which would go on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. This was the most active season for the colony — a short, dense window duringthe couple of months of Antarctic Peninsula summer, and the birds made full use of every hour of it.
After a while, Sam asked, “Is it… are you missing home?”
“Alaska?” I asked in surprise.
“Irkutsk,” he said, shaking his head.
It took me a moment to realize he was asking about my hometown back in Russia. “Well… I wouldn’t exactly say I miss it. My parents are here and they’re the ones I’m closest to, as you already know.” I looked down into my coffee. “Maybe it would be fun to see my cousins. We are all grown up now. I have so many nieces and nephews.” I shrugged. “But technology helps. I still get to see them on video calls.”
“Good,” Sam said, and fell silent.
I studied his profile. Why was he asking that all of a sudden? Maybe he was missing home. “What about you?” I asked softly.
He shrugged and finished off his coffee. “What’s there to miss?”
My heart clenched for him. Sam had been on his own as long as I had known him. He was just twenty-three when I met him, already living alone. For reasons I never fully understood, his parents had thrown him out, and he had pretty much raised himself.
Now that I thought about it, I wondered what the reason could have been. I couldn’t fathom what Sam could have done that was bad enough for his family to abandon him. I had met them only because the town in Alaska where we both lived had a population small enough that everyone knew everyone. But I had never been close to them. They seemed to regard me with the same disdain they reserved for Sam. Apparently just being his friend was enough to taint me.
I wanted to tell him he didn’t need anybody because he hadme, but that would sound too strong, like I was trying to come onto him, and I didn’t want to spook him. Maybe I could say he always had a friend in me, but I didn’t want to shove myself further into the friend zone than I already was. GAH. I had really tied myself up in knots, hadn’t I?
But the more I stared at his profile — the cut of his jaw, the intense look in his eyes as he stared off into nothing — the more I wanted to comfort him. I grumbled often about him treating me like the kid I no longer was, but what had I actually done to act like the grown-up? This was a classic example. He would ruffle my hair or do something if the tables were turned. Why couldn’t I do the same?
Yes — I had to change the dynamic of our relationship, and that was really on me. As soon as the thought solidified, my pulse spiked. With my heart in my throat, I slowly lifted my left hand and extended it until I placed it on top of his head and very gently ran my fingers through his slightly wavy dark brown hair.
It felt so good. I wanted to never stop. Had I been so touch-starved?
Sam froze under my touch and his eyes widened. Then very slowly he turned his head and our eyes locked. My heart rate went through the roof. Sitting this close to each other, me still touching him, him staring intently into my eyes, I felt as if I would vibrate out of my skin. My mouth was dry. I wanted to say something, but my mind had gone blank.
