Page 9 of After All This Time (A Time For Love #2)

Liam

Which brings me to the most dreaded part of this trip.

I reach for the flap of the tent and my breath hitches—thankfully inaudibly—at the sight of Coop stripped down to baggy, gray shorts and a loose T-shirt.

He’s lying on top of his sleeping bag that is zipped open on the inflatable mattress.

He looks so soft and relaxed. His face is illuminated by the light of his phone screen—probably checking in with his family—and the tips of his hair are slightly wet from before, when we washed up a bit.

I’ve already thrown on some sleep clothes myself, so I’m pretty much standing there—pulse beating erratically, palms starting to sweat—at the entrance of the tent like an idiot, where he could just look up and catch me staring at him like he’s Christmas in a person.

I will myself to calm down and after zipping up the tent, I shuffle on my knees to my side of the mattress and my own sleeping bag.

Thank God, we have separate sleeping bags. Sharing the mattress and the tent is going to be bad enough as it is.

And of course, that’s the moment he chooses to look up from his phone and pierce me with his eyes, his lips already stretched into a smile.

That smile, though, is not enough to make me forget his earlier distress.

He tried to hide it, of course, but I knew it was there. An air of wistfulness has been clouding his expression all day and my chest hurts seeing it.

Plopping down next to him, I see him laying his phone down next to him and slip into his sleeping bag as I do the same.

Now that the light from the screen is gone, the inside of the tent is almost pitch black, only a faint luminescence seeping through the material.

It’s quiet outside and the silence should be enough to help me settle down.

But instead, it’s maddening.

Because all I can hear is him.

Breathing in and out.

In and out.

We’re both on our sides and he’s so close.

I mean, it’s only natural. We’re both tall and take up a lot of space, and it’s only One. Fucking. Tent.

I groan inwardly at all the decisions that have led me to this moment.

This perfect moment of torture.

“Li?” he whispers in the darkness and my eyes eat up the faint outline of his face.

“Hm?”

He doesn’t say anything else for a bit, making me think that he might have fallen asleep.

But he hasn’t.

Instead, I feel the mattress slightly shifting as Coop moves about.

And it’s not until I feel his sleeping bag bump against mine that I realize how close he’s gotten.

He reaches for me, curling into my side as his head lies on my shoulder.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, tinged with insecurity.

My heart is frantically trying to beat out of my chest and I pray to anything that can hear me that he doesn’t notice it or at least, that he doesn’t think it strange.

We’ve done so many sleep-overs like this when we were children.

But this is different.

This is pain, and longing, and fear.

I don’t answer him with words.

But my arms go around him all the same, and I cradle him against my chest, making sure he’s comfortable, making sure his breathing evens out and he drifts off, all the tension leaving his body until he’s just warm and soft.

I tighten my arms, wishing I could freeze time.

I would choose this perpetual state of torture over letting him go.

I can’t keep going on like this , is the thought that creates a lump in my throat.

If I keep doing these things, he’ll know and I can’t lose him. I won’t.

Maybe the distance will be good.

Maybe it will help me be a better friend.

Maybe it will numb what I feel.

But even as I think it, the ache that explodes in my sternum says otherwise.

So I do the only thing I can.

I brush a soft kiss on his hair and fall into dreamless sleep with him in my arms.

***

Morning seems to come sooner than expected.

Probably because even the faintest of sunlight is enough to penetrate the flimsy coverage of the tent.

But I’m too comfortable to even bother with blinking my eyes open.

Sleep threatens to pull me under again and I’d gladly follow if not for the slight movement of a warm body against mine.

There is soft skin beneath my fingers, and a citrus scent that I’m painfully familiar with is filling my nostrils. Realization slowly trickles in as I take stock of the situation I’m in, and my heart speeds up.

On my side, with Coop’s body tucked in against my own, facing away.

My hand under his T-shirt, touching the skin on his stomach.

My mouth and nose inches away from his nape.

And harder than I’ve ever been in my life.

Pure terror shoots through my veins.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Can I not be trusted even in sleep?

Do I need him that badly that I can’t stay away from him even when I’m unconscious?

My heart is picking up speed every second that goes by and I know I should move, and I will. As soon as I figure out how to do it without waking him up.

But he seems to be breathing deeply, still in the clutches of sleep, so I carefully extract my hand, and slowly shuffle back, until we’re separated by at least a few inches.

It’s only then that I dare to exhale harshly, willing my body to calm down, to stop it from burning and yearning for my best friend.

I don’t know how much time I stay like that, on my back, staring at the roof of the tent as morning fully sets in. It must be a while though, because Cooper is shifting in his sleeping bag and a groan escapes him. And knowing he absolutely loathes mornings, it shouldn’t be as early as I thought.

“Why is the sun out?” he half-mumbles, half-whines, and despite my emotional turmoil I let out a chuckle hearing the misery in his voice.

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s what’s been happening since the dawn of time.”

Another groan.

“I don’t want to hear logic right now, Li. Okay?” he mumbles and turns around to face me, sitting up.

He never fully zipped his sleeping back last night so that’s probably how I was able to find my way to his skin. His hair is sticking every which way, only one of his eyes is cracked open, and there is a crease from his pillow on his cheek.

And he still makes me want to swallow hard. I smile instead at the disgruntled expression on his face.

“Sorry,” I tell him without hiding my grin.

“Oh man, how can you be so chipper in the morning?”

He attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes before his hand drifts down to scratch the skin of his stomach under his shirt. Exactly where my hand was moments earlier.

My smile must look unhinged right now from the way I’m trying to keep my eyes from dropping.

“How can you be such a grump when this was all your idea?”

He snaps his mouth closed. “Okay, fair point.”

His lips tilt into a devilish smile and his crystal-blue eyes sparkle dangerously.

Uh oh.

“Does that mean I can propose anything I want for today since it was my idea? I promise I’ll stop being a grump in the mornings.”

“I’m almost 100% sure I’m going to regret this but why not?”

“Well,” he says, propping himself on his knees to unzip the flap of the tent, an errant ray of bright sunlight blinding both of us temporarily. “Fuel up, bud, ‘cause I’m taking your ass hiking.”

And as it turns out, there are worse things than emotional turmoil.