Page 4 of Love on Ice (Love in Terengia #5)

4

THE BEST (AND WORST) NIGHT

Sebastian

Without another word, Michael disappears into the bathroom. I pace nervously like a wild animal caught in a cage. Of course, we've shared a bed before once or twice … when we were kids.

Sharing a bed with your friends at a sleepover or packed together in a tent on a camping trip is kind of a rite of passage when you’re young. But that was years ago! More years than I’d like to admit.

And now that I think about it, the last time we shared a bed was pure torture for me. We were seventeen years old, and we’d gone with some other friends to visit our friend Stefan in Tyrol to ski. Stefan's parents had put blowup mattresses in their converted attic for us, which was fine. We were used to bunking up like this and we had a great time. But on the way home Michael and I had an overnighter at my aunt's house in Salzburg. In her tiny city-center apartment, there was only one pull-out couch in the living room for guests. I was already head over heels in love with Michael by that point, and I lay awake all night listening to his breathing. I hardly dared to move because I was so frightened I wouldn’t be able to resist touching him.

It was the best and the worst night of my life. Being so close to Michael, feeling the heat radiating from his body, smelling his personal scent was like a dream come true. I knew he’d never allow me to touch him, so the only thing to do was to lie as still as possible so that I didn’t cross any line — it was a total nightmare.

Well, it looks like that nightmare has come back to haunt me a second time, and I have no idea how I'm going to get through it.

At that moment the bathroom door creaks open, and I quickly rush to my suitcase and take out my toothbrush things. My face is bright red at the thought that Michael may have caught me pacing around our apartment like a headless chicken. I wonder what he’s thinking. Without giving me a second glance, Michael walks past me into the bedroom.

What makes all this worse is the thought that my shock and embarrassment must have shown on my face earlier. I have no idea what Michael thinks of the whole us-sharing-a-bed thing. Is he mad at me for not double-checking?

I guess he must be. Maybe I should apologize and clear the air. For a moment, I look from the bathroom to the bedroom door and back again indecisively. I decide to go to the bathroom first — I need some time to think. My head’s a mess. I need to sort myself out or risk making things worse rather than better .

Michael

After a quick wash, I open the bathroom door. Sebastian jumps at the sound as if he’s been stung and scurries over to his suitcase. Without even looking at me, he starts rummaging around in it. I don't know whether to burst into tears or throw my things on the floor in a rage.

A few minutes alone in the small bathroom were enough for me to regain my composure. I even managed to convince myself that I’d only imagined Sebastian's strange behavior. I’d told myself it wasn't that bad, that I was simply tired after the extremely long day and making a mountain out of a molehill.

Obviously, that’s not the case.

I stalk into the bedroom and stare accusingly at the small bed that’s been the trigger for our current angst. If looks could kill (and if beds were alive), then it would be drawing its last breath right now.

Nothing happens, of course. The bed continues to be freshly made and inviting, waiting innocently for me to snuggle between its sheets. All air leaves my body and I feel my shoulders slump. I’m behaving childishly.

There are floor-to-ceiling windows in this room as well, but as I reach for the beige curtain to close it, I pause. I take in the twinkling lights below me again and rest my forehead against the cold glass. I take in a deep breath as a meditation I used many years ago comes to mind. I visualize a mountain lake which brings with it calm and quiet. Then I repeat the mental mantra: mountain lake , while inhaling, and calm and quiet , while exhaling.

Little by little, some of the tension that’s built up since we arrived at what is, in all honesty, a really fantastic apartment is leaving my body .

Mountain lake — calm and quiet, the mantra continues.

After a few minutes, I force myself to stop. I can't imagine what Sebastian would think if he came out of the bathroom and saw me leaning against the window like this.

Reluctantly, I leave my position and climb into the small bed. It's even cozier than it looked, and I briefly allow myself the luxury of stretching out completely and enjoying the sensation of soft sheets against my skin. Then I roll to the side, move as close to the edge as I can and stare out the window — I forgot to draw the curtains.

A few minutes later, the lights go out in the living room. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. The mattress behind me compresses under Seb’s weight and a cloud of fresh orange scent spreads over me. I have to force myself to keep my breathing steady and not inhale Sebastian's delicious scent as deeply as I can.

Then I feel him lean over me and I scream at myself, Stay calm, Michael!

I have no idea how I manage it, but I force my face to stay relaxed and keep my breathing flowing smoothly doing my best to replicate sleep. My acting must be quite convincing because shortly afterwards, Sebastian leans away from me.

I hold my breath as he tugs his side of the comforter free from the mattress — we’re sharing that too. When he lies down next to me, his body’s rigid. His tension is almost palpable.

Tears burn in my eyes for a second time that night as I think, Does he really find me so repulsive that he can't relax enough to fall asleep?

Sebastian suddenly flips on his side, and when I feel his breath on my neck, goosebumps spring up all over my skin.

A single finger glides gently over the thin cotton t-shirt I'm wearing as a pajama top. It takes me a moment to realize that Sebastian is drawing letters on my back, just as we did as kids, lying next to each other in the dark and couldn’t see to sign.

A shiver runs over my body. The innocent touch is almost too much, too intense. I can barely decipher what he’s spelling out on my skin. Each stroke of his finger triggers an explosion inside me.

And yet, at the same time, what he’s saying is obvious: I AM SORRY.

Sebastian

Just as I expected, lying next to Michael means that sleep doesn’t come easy. I’m dog-tired, but the sound of his breathing is like a mystical siren song to me. I can't stop listening to it.

When I came into the bedroom after a quick shower, Michael was already asleep. I was so mad at myself for not talking things through with Michael first. Instead, I scuttled off to the bathroom — like an idiot. Then I did something really stupid. Stupid and childish and foolish and ...

I take a deep breath. There's no point in berating myself right now. It is what it is. If there’s one thing to salvage out of this mess, it’s that Michael was oblivious to my awkward apology. He was fast asleep and my touch didn’t rouse him.

Unlike my cock. It got rock hard the moment my index finger first touched the soft material of Michael's T-shirt. The top has my math students’ Olympiad team logo on. He's always just as proud as I am when they do well and likes to celebrate by wearing their t-shirt or bringing cake to our graduation ceremonies. Or both at the same time — he's just so sweet !

This particular t-shirt has become thin from so much washing that only a hint of fabric separates my finger from Michael's warm skin. As soon as I touched it, excitement flashed through my body until every single one of my cells came to life. I’m so glad that Michael wasn’t able to hear the tiny whimper that escaped my lips too.

One thing confuses me: Why am I suddenly reacting so strongly to my best friend? I get that I’ve been in love with him for years, but I’ve always had my feelings under control. I could slap him on the back and even hug him without getting an immediate boner. But for a few months now...

I have no idea what’s changed, but whatever flipped the switch has given me a major problem. How am I supposed to survive the next few hours? Or rather, the next few days? We’re supposed to be sharing this narrow bed for the next three nights!

Maybe tomorrow I should moan that he hogged the bed all night, wind him up a bit about it, and then nip out to the nearest store that sells air mattresses.

That wouldn’t be the truth, though, and I hate lying.

Also, I have no idea how Michael would take it after all the drama I stupidly created earlier. And if I’m really honest with myself, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be this close to Michael. Do I really want to give that up?

The answer is a clear no !

I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to share this guy’s bed again. Why not enjoy it while I can?

Despite all the thoughts whirring wildly through my head, I must have fallen asleep at some point. The sun is shining directly on my face when I wake up, and I'm hot — damn hot.

I blink carefully and try to orient myself. Vacation — Canada — Michael — bed. Slowly the puzzle pieces mentally slot into place, but it’s like each piece is stuck in syrup.

And anyway, why is it so hot here?

And what’s that heavy weight on my chest? It’s not only heavy but warm, and ... Oh, my arms are wrapped tightly around it.

Actually, there is only one option. Isn’t it? But can I trust myself at the moment? I am basically still half asleep. Okay, Sebastian , I coach myself. Then I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

Michael

I shift contently in bed — it’s sheer bliss. I can't remember the last time I slept so well. A delightful orange scent is the first thing that penetrates my sleepy brain, only then do I process the rest. The bed and sheets feel cozy and soft, but the pillow is really hard.

Hold on. This doesn’t feel right. Why is the pillow hard? I want to lift my head, but two arms are wrapped around me tightly.

Is this what I think it is? I ask myself, as I carefully open my left eye.

Yep! I can't believe it.

While I was asleep, my body went where my brain would never let me go while awake. I'm snuggled full length against my best friend. My morning wood twitches delightedly once the realization kicks in. Especially when I process that I'm not lying next to Sebastian, I'm half on top of him. My head is on his chest, my left leg is crossed over his, my arm is lying across his stomach, and Seb’s muscular arms hold me. I’ve never felt so safe and secure in my life.

My gaze roams over Sebastian's naked torso, and I enjoy the feeling of his steady heartbeat pulsing against my cheek. Even as a child, he hated wearing a top to bed — I guess things haven’t changed.

I lick my lips. When we were younger, I didn’t give Sebastian’s shirtless state a second thought. But now ... A surprising amount of fine blond hair covers his chest and trails down his torso to disappear under the bedspread. Sebastian has always been hairier than me. To this day, I find it hard to grow a beard and I'm blessed with very little chest hair. Sebastian, on the other hand, has had to shave regularly since he was sixteen.

Before I register what I’m doing, I've turned my head and planted a little kiss on Sebastian's pec right next to one of the two steeply erect nipples. What wouldn’t I give to suck that into my mouth right now?

As soon as the thought pops into my head, Sebastian jerks back in surprise. His arms fall away from me and my pillow moves out from under me.

Damn! He’s awake!

He was lying so still I was sure that he was fast asleep. I’d never have kissed him if I had known he was awake. My stomach tightens in panic. What shall I do now?

"What was that?" he signs, his eyes wide. His signs are frantic, frightened, almost hysterical.

I sit up and run my hand through my untamable hair. Oh my god, how am I going to explain this away? The kiss was a spontaneous, sleep-fuddled thing — the consequences didn’t even enter my head. I rack my panic-riddled brain for a plausible excuse, but nothing comes .

Sebastian's expression turns impatient.

Say something, Michael! It doesn’t matter what! I mentally yell.

I shrug my shoulders. Pretend that my heart isn't trying to burst out of my chest right now.

"You're a sexy guy!" my hands somehow sign.

Damn! Even if that’s completely true, what was I thinking?

Sebastian blinks once, twice — as if he’s never been more confused in his life. And probably from his perspective, he hasn’t.

My mind feverishly conjures up one possible explanation for what my stupid hands have said after another. The only problem is, none of them makes sense. What shall I do?

"You think I'm sexy?" Sebastian finally asks, still looking at me in confusion.

I can’t lie to him. Never could. So even though my breath catches and my heart tries to jump out of my breast, I nod.

Seb’s eyes grow even wider.

"But you’re into women!"

I sigh. Time for another confession.

But maybe that’s my chance.

Okay, it's now or never.

It's surprisingly difficult to sign the very short phrase I've known to be true for years, but have never shared with anyone.

"I'm bi."

Sebastian

I am completely blindsided. My brain can't even process what's happening right now. Here, in this bright, small bedroom many thousands of miles from home. So I ask an absolutely stupid question.

"Since when?"

A cheeky grin stretches across my best friend's adorable face.

"Aren't you always telling me that you were born that way?" he teases me.

I run my hand over my face and an ironic laugh spills from my lips. Have I woken up in another universe? Can one transatlantic flight take you to a parallel universe?

When I open my eyes again, Michael still has that coy grin plastered to his face, but his eyes can’t hide a hint of concern. I have no idea what's going through his head right now. I don't even know what I'm feeling or thinking right now. I'm at a loss for words.

I think of the first words out of Michael's mouth. He thinks I'm sexy. That’s going to take me a moment to process.

"Have you ever been with another man?" I ask. That’s an even stupider question than the last. And I don't even want to know the answer. The thought of Michael with another man makes my bile rise.

Luckily, Fuzzball shakes his head vehemently and the worry in his eyes intensifies. I know I am asking all the wrong questions, pushing him further and further away from me. But for the life of me, I can’t figure what the right questions would be!

"Why not?" I ask, realizing as it’s out that this isn’t a sensible question either.

Michael merely shrugs. Damn it! He’s making this so hard for me. Since telling me he's bi, he's not signed a single word. He fidgets on the bed and seems seconds away from jumping up and running away. Probably to the bathroom. Like both of us stupidly did yesterday. Which didn’t resolve anything. Go figure.

I have to say something.

Anything.

"But you’d like to?"

Okay. I’m going to give myself an award for asking the stupidest questions. Why am I so awkward? Can I say it’s down to jetlag?

Because you're in love with him , my subconscious whispers to me.

Thank you, I know that! I mentally shout back.

Michael scoffs at my question. Then he hesitates. Seconds seem to turn into hours. He raises his hands several times, only to lower them again.

I wonder what is going on inside his head. I bite my lower lip, unsure, and as I do something flares in Michael's eyes and he stares, transfixed by my mouth. Eventually, a jolt passes through his body. He sits up straight. His eyes find mine. His hands lift.

"Are you offering?"

Michael

Oh my god! Did you really ask that?

It’s such a moronic question. Now it sounds like I'm just after a man to experiment with. And even if that were true, I’d never pick Sebastian for that. Our friendship is far too precious.

Sebastian turns suddenly and reaches for his cell phone on the nightstand. He lifts it up so that I can see that the alarm has just gone off. It's nine o'clock already! I kind of expected jetlag to wake us up around five a.m. How in the world did we sleep so long ?

Because, with Sebastian in your arms, you've never slept better in your life , goes through my head. And how true that is. I’ve never felt so comfortable anywhere as having the most important person in my life held so tightly to me.

Sebastian looks undecided.

"I’ve booked tickets at the Hockey Hall of Fame in an hour," he explains.

I could hug him for the hundredth time for organizing this amazing trip, but there is still this question between us. Alarm clock or not, it hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t answered me.

Then again, do I really want an answer? I don't think I could live with the rejection if he said no. But what if he said yes? If he let me explore his wonderful body. Just once. Or … maybe the whole time we’re here in Canada? I’m not sure once would be enough.

But then, what if he says yes and there turns out to be zero chemistry between us, and we’d be still forced to share a room for the next ten days, and this bed for the next two! It’s not as if we’ve got the space to stay out of each other's way.

Maybe it’s better to forget the question entirely, consider the alarm as a gift and just leave the whole thing behind.

Decisively, I get out of bed and, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction, I ask, "Do you have any plans for breakfast?"

Sebastian examines me, and I have to muster all my strength to withstand his intense gaze. Eventually, his body slumps slightly and he replies, "No, I was thinking we could stop at a little cafe somewhere on the way to the museum."

What have I done?

He’s clearly dejected as he signs his response. So, my change of subject hasn’t escaped him .

There’s only one solution: Act like nothing’s happened. Pretend I saw nothing.

"Man, I can't wait to see the Stanley Cup with my own eyes!" I know my response is totally over-the-top, but I can’t help it. "And didn't I read somewhere that they’ve installed a game in there where you can compete against a virtual goalie?"

Sebastian looks at me surprised, so I add, "I still can't believe you organized all this and that we're really here now!"

It’s the truth.

Now all we have to do is somehow forget about this morning.