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“But there have been a few flashlights shoved up people’s butts,” I say, cracking a smile and not allowing the moment to become too heavy.
Carter laughs, and I try not to smile again at the sound of it.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen in field work?” I ask.
“One year I went to Iceland to tag puffins and we had to camp during the trip. The wind was so loud at night I thought my tent would get blown away. But during the day…it was magical. It was my first time really working up close with puffins, and I fell in love, right there.”
“Do you have pictures?” I ask.
“Yes, but I won’t waste phone battery showing them to you. We can look at them when we get back to Harborview.”
Right—Harborview. For a moment, I forgot that Carter and I aren’t at home. That we’re in some alternate reality in which we’re actually speaking to one another without immediately arguing. Back in Harborview, this type of conversation would never happen between us.
8
CARTER
Angela goes stillas I mention our return to Harborview. I scan her features, trying to decipher what she’s thinking. Unlike most people, Angela doesn’t have many tells. She has a near perfect poker face. And she’s employing it right now, and frustratingly I have no idea what she’s thinking.
“Alright,” she finally says. “Should we go to sleep? It’s early but we don’t have anything else to do. Like I said, I can sleep on the?—”
“No. You are not sleeping on the floor. How many hours of sleep do you think you’ll get if you do that?”
“Um. A few.”
“Liar,” I say. “I’ll take the floor. The futon has a few extra cushions on it, which I can make do with. And I’ll use my jacket as a blanket. I can sleep in any situation.”
“You just told me you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.” She arches a brow at me.
“But I can still sleep better on the floor than you can. And I have lots of practice sleeping on the ground while camping. For me, it’s my brain that won’t shut up, not my body.”
“Fine,” she says. “I accept.”
“So magnanimous of you, to accept sleeping on the futon while I languish on the hard floor,” I can’t help but say.
“Carter!” she snaps. “This was your idea.”
“Alright, alright,” I say.
She gets up from the chair in a huff and moves to the bed. She removes some of the extra pillows and tosses them on the floor. Then she lays down and pulls the blanket over her.
I set up a makeshift pallet on the floor, and figure that the pillows will allow me to sleep with at least half of my body on something other than hard wood.
I turn the lights off, and in the dim light from the window, make my way onto the floor. I hear a rustle, and turn to see Angela maneuvering something under the covers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking my leggings off. I like sleeping mostly naked.”
“Oh.”
Oh is right. I haven’t really thought about what being trapped in such a confined space with her means, but I am now. I imagine the curve of her ass bared in the morning light. Her shirt riding up, exposing her back. Her long hair trailing across her sleeping form.
Fucking hell.
I banish those thoughts from my mind, though not successfully enough to quell the swelling of my cock in my pants.
“What, uh, what can I do to help you sleep?” I ask.
