“Let’s go inside,” I say.
Beck smiles. “Please.”
We leave the porch with a single slam of a door. I fall onto the stiff mattress on the cot as Beck climbs on top of me and lowers herself so her warmth covers mine.
When our lips meet again, it feels like being wrapped in the greatest hug of all time. I tighten my grip around her back and pull her closer until the hottest parts of my body grind against hers. An anxious shiverruns through me, telling me to pump the brakes. That this is my first kiss, that it can’t be more. Not now. That this isn’t the right time for this.
But as Beck and I hold each other tighter, as the rhythm of her breath and heartbeat fills my ears,faststops having meaning. All I know is nothing feels better than Beck enveloping me, that one of the greatest human experiences has to be sharing another person’s heat and touch, having their heart beat against yours. And when her lips break off from my mouth and kiss along my jaw and down my neck, I discover a new touch I never want to end.
A new feeling with a new person I never, ever want to end.
Thirty-One
As soon as I open my eyes to the continued darkness of the night, the events of earlier feel like a dream. A literal dream, where the edges fuzz and certain sensations come through—the thickness of Beck’s hair in my hands, the feeling of her weight pressed against me, the pleasure of her nails racking down my spine—but the beginning, middle, and end have slipped away.
Beck’s holding me, but her arm retracts as I shift. She groans.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” My phone’s on the other side of the room and I’m still too sleepy to get it. “It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”
Beck sits up. “Shit.”
“What?”
“There’s no bathroom in here, is there?”
I resist the urge to laugh. “Definitely not.”
Beck lumbers to her feet and turns on her phone flashlight. I wince against the light, but it does help clear the fuzziness in my head. “I’ll go with you,” I say.
“Bring the weapons.”
I smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it any other way.”
My muscles gradually wake up as I follow Beck down our several ladders. It’s so strange to think how amped up I was the last time my feet touched the ground. Now, I’m still soaked in the good feeling from earlier that night, perhaps to my own detriment. But it’s also a calm night, nothing but crickets and owls making sounds around us.
“I’ll see you in a few,” Beck says before disappearing behind some brush.
I stretch out my muscles as thoroughly as I can, my phone flashlight shining into the growth in the opposite direction of Beck. The cot was definitely an improvement over the sleeping bag, but I’m still yearning for my bed back home. I can’t believe it’s a little past two a.m. on Monday. It feels like it’s been an eternity out here. But no, only one nightmarish weekend with a pinprick of joy tacked on at the end. We could still leave today and our parents would be none the wiser.
I can’t wait for the ISB to eat their words with that condescending message about my tip.
But then a twig cracks.
My head jerks back, but nothing’s changed from what I can see. I scan our surroundings with my flashlight. I think about what Beck said about coyotes.
I have the pepper spray ready to go. Surely I could take on a pack if they showed? I wouldn’t want to seriously hurt them, anyway. I know the horrors they unintentionally created on Paisley’s body, but we’re in their home. I force a breath and take a single, precautionary step back toward the watchtower.
Beck emerges from the trees soon after. “Hand sanitizer?”
I toss her mine. Should I bother mentioning the twig?
“Can I borrow your charger when we get back up?” Beck asks. “My phone just died after being plugged in the past several hours. I think my wire’s frayed or something.”
“Yeah, of course.” I take another step back toward the watchtower. “We should get going.”
Another twig cracks.
