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A kind-looking woman with graying hair and a welcoming smile greets us at the front desk. Her name tag reads ‘Greta’, and she tells us that the only rooms available are overnight ones.
“That’s no problem,” Milo says tiredly, running a hand through his hair. “Hopefully, we’ll only be here for the night.”
After paying, we collect our keys and drag our bags up to the room. Milo unlocks the door, pushes it open, and flicks on a nearby light switch. I stand at the threshold, peering in behind his broad shoulder, and almost trip over my own feet when I see it.
Right there, slap-bang in the middle of the room, is a single bed. Pressed against the back wall, the sheets are a sickly brown that clashes against the cyan carpet, it looks barely big enough for one grown man, let alone two.
Milo enters first, throwing his backpack down by the right-hand side of the bed.
Bed?
That can’t be right.
But it is. There’s only one bed. No spare, no fold-out couch, not even an air mattress tucked into the corner.
A strangled noise escapes the back of my throat before I can swallow it, drawing Milo's attention. He raises an eyebrow at me.
“What’s up?”
I gesture wildly at the bed in disbelief. “There’s only one fucking bed, that’s what’s up.”
“We’ll share.”
Shutting the door, I dump my backpack on the floor and cross my arms. “I’m not sharing a bed with you, dude.”
“Why?” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “We’ve shared beds with our friends before when we hiked the mountain.”
“That was different.”
I never shared with Milo, always preferring to squeeze in beside Oliver or Spencer. People that don’t make my mouth dry just from looking at them. Tension settles between my shoulder blades.
“Look, man, can you have your tantrum tomorrow?” he says. “I’m exhausted and I need to call my mom.”
She hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and Milo’s been taking turns caring for her with his older brother, Kai. This trip home is less of a break and more work for him. And here I am making it worse. I know I’m being a baby, but this goes against my strict ‘keep to yourself’ rule. If Milo catches onto my weird feelings about him…
“I just don’t want it to be awkward.”
His expression softens and he shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “We’re close enough that it’ll be fine, Cal. Don’t worry so much.”
He’s right, we’ve known each other long enough that shit like this shouldn’t be a problem. We used to lay on his bed, pressed together from shoulder to ankle, and talk about whatever came to mind. Music, superhero movies, the latest guy Milo had a crush on.
Sleeping in the same bed should be second nature to us. But then why is my stomach tightening at the thought of it?
The room itself is small but fitted with a dresser, an old CRT TV, and a gaudy print armchair tucked into one corner. One of the two nightstands on either side of the bed holds a lamp glowing softly.
When it’s my turn in the bathroom, I lock the door and grip the sink, the green porcelain cool against my skin. It’s ugly in here, the tiles a hideous shade of pink that rolls my stomach. This place looks like it’s right out of the 80s.
I glance at the chipped mirror. My reflection stares back at me with tired blue eyes. I look like shit; gaunt cheeks, a pouty mouth stuck in a perpetual frown, my brown curls unruly and flopping over my head.
Letting out a deep breath, I splash water on my face and swirl Milo’s mouthwash around my mouth, trying to calm myself down. It’s just for tonight. In a few months, we’ll be laughing about this, a distant memory.
When I force myself to stop hiding and exit the bathroom, Milo is standing by the bed, frowning at his phone screen.
“How’s your mom?” I say, rounding the bed to the other side.
“Alright, I think. Kai dropped her off at a friend’s house for a few days, so she doesn’t need me there yet.”
“That’s good.”
