Sharing a Tent

Author's Note- Not quite what I was planning when I started this... I had the ending in mind way before I wrote the rest. Um. I hope you like it.

"Did you charge your cell phone?" Mom asked, and before I could answer, she continued, "What about the first aid kit? The flare gun? An extra sweater?"

"Don't forget clean underwear!" Peter added, winking at me. My stomach fluttered, and I turned to my mom. She was acting like this was our first-ever camping trip, when, in fact, it was nowhere even close.

"I just worry about you, Tom. And without Adam and Rachel there to keep an eye on you..." She sighed, and then pulled me into her arms for a hug. It wasn't as though I was going to be gone long. Just three days, and not even three whole days. I was seventeen, for God's sake! She released me, and I took a breath. Adam was Peter's older brother, the one who usually went camping with us, along with his girlfriend (now wife), Rachel. However, the two of them were currently on Honeymoon in Italy, leaving Peter and I to attempt a trip of our own.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Huston, I will take very good care of your son." Peter gave her his charming grin and slung an arm around my shoulder. Peter and I had been friends for more than eight years, and camping together for the last six. Sharing a tent with someone, sleeping that close, even in separate sleeping bags, can make a person realize that their feelings aren't attributed to friendship. It only took me three years after we'd met ... one year into the almost-monthly camping trips, to realize that I was in love with Peter.

It wasn't hard to see why. Besides being attractive - tall, lean, and muscular, with red-blond hair and dark blue eyes - he was smart, funny, and resourceful. He could clean and gut a fish without blinking. He knew what the best kind of wood for a fire was, and he could tell which animal made what tracks. Some of it rubbed off on me - I could start a fire fairly easily, and I could put up a tent in less than an hour, but I still couldn't tell the difference between a bass and a trout if my life depended on it.

"We probably want to get headed out, if we want to get the tent set up before dark," Peter said, inching towards the door. Mom got the hint and nodded.

"All right. You'll be sure to call me if anything goes wrong," she said. I nodded, holding up my cell-phone as proof, and followed Peter out the door to his truck. Tossing my duffel bag into the bed, I climbed into the passenger seat, and we were off. It was only when we were halfway down the road that Peter finally spoke.

"Your Mom's such a worry-wart," he said, "I dunno how she's gonna deal when you go off to college!"

"She'd probably wanna move into the dorm with me," I said. It was an exaggeration, to be sure, but it wasn't too far from the truth. I was her only child, and ever since losing my dad to a car accident six years ago, I'd been the only person she had. I liked my mom, because, well, she was my mom, but sometimes it was annoying when she got all weepy.

"At least she doesn't snore like Adam does," Peter said, and I had to agree. Peter's brother was a great guy, basically like an older version of Peter, only with blond hair, but his snoring made it almost impossible to sleep on some of those camping trips.

"I dunno how Rachel can share a bed with him," I added, which was only partially true. I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with an attractive man, even if he snored... but only if it was Peter. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in the seat a little, hoping to catch a nap before we got to the campsite.

It only felt like fifteen minutes later when I was stirred awake by the truck driving over dirt, down the road to the site. I stretched my arms above my head, happy to see that it was still light out, though the sun was well on its descent from the sky.

The site where Peter and his brother camped was on a great piece of land. There was a clearing, big enough for two tents, the truck, and room to move around. The area was surrounded by trees, and there was a path that led to a lake, only about a quarter-mile away, where we often went for fish.

"Now, for the fun part," Peter said, rolling his eyes. He took the tent out of the back of the truck and we set about pitching it. I put the poles together, and Peter unfolded, and then we worked together putting the two together. Working quickly, we managed to finish with a little bit of daylight left. I set the sleeping bags up inside the tent while he started a fire for us.

Supper was hot dogs and beans, which we heated over the fire. This was the way I liked it – cooking my own food, sitting next to a warm fire with Peter to my left and the stars above my head, like a never-ending ceiling.

"This is the life, isn't it?" Peter said finally, echoing my thoughts. I nodded, sliding the hot-dog off the stick I'd been roasting it on and putting it on the bun.

"If I never had to go anywhere else, I think I'd be happy." I meant it, too. As long as he was by my side, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, doing anything but this.

"So, tomorrow we should catch some fish for supper. Maybe go swimming, too." He shrugged, as if to say, 'if you want'. I shrugged as well, gobbling down the rest of my hot dog.

"Whatever, I guess." It was more fun when we didn't really plan out what we did. After all, every day at school was planned for me, and much of my life was, as well. Grade school, High School, College, career. This camping trips were one the few impromptu parts of my life, and I wanted to enjoy them for what they were.

We stayed up late, lying on the ground and staring up at the stars. We didn't talk much, but there was no need for it. Even so, I could not ignore his presence that close to me. If I stretched my hand out far enough to the left, I could touch his fingertips. I imagined the sensations that the contact would bring. Like flames licking up my arms, consuming my whole body. A kiss would be an inferno, and sex... sex would be like my whole body bursting into flame, spontaneously combusting into ashes. It was both a scary thought, and a thrilling one.

I couldn't wait for the moment when it might finally happen, if ever. God, I was getting hard just thinking about it. I hoped Peter couldn't tell. Before I could lose myself too deeply in thoughts and dreams about Peter, I stretched and sat up.

"I think I'm going to turn in," I said, standing up. I picked up my flashlight and was going to walk over to the tent when I noticed that Peter was still lying on the ground, and he didn't move when I got up. I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I put my flashlight down and knelt beside him, glancing down. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, breathing softly. From the dying flames of the fire, I could see his eyelashes against his face, and the contour of his body in silhouette against the night sky.

I reached a hand out, wishing, so deeply, that I could touch him, run my hand down his chest, tracing the outline of his body and ending with a hand on his cheek and our mouths colliding. But, I did not touch. I stopped with my hand hovering over his chest, and his eyes flashed open, meeting my mine. I froze, not knowing what to say.

"I, uh... did you want to sleep out here all night?" I asked, moving my hand back to my side. "It's gonna get cold." I saw him nod, and he sat up. I pulled myself to standing and picked up my flashlight again, walking over to the tent and unzipping it. I climbed inside and went over to the left side, where my duffel bag lay next to my sleeping bag. I didn't really need clean clothes, so I just slipped my pants off and slid into my sleeping bag in my boxers and t-shirt. Peter soon joined me in the tent, and I had to convince myself to look at the tent wall and not Peter, who was undressing.

When he was finished, he flicked the light off, and we both lay in our respective sleeping bags, a noticeable distance between them, and I closed my eyes, falling asleep.

[&]

I woke to normal morning sounds in the woods – birds chattering, wind rustling through the trees, and the tent being unzipped. I rubbed my eyes and looked up just in time to see Peter slipping out through the tent's door. Then I heard another zipping sound and that familiar sound – which still grossed me out – of Peter pissing on a tree. I wrinkled my nose, but stretched, and slipped out of my sleeping bag. It was a little cold, but I pulled on my pants and a sweatshirt and I was fine.

I joined Peter outside the tent as he was opening a box of Cheerios.

"Breakfast?" he asked, passing me the box. I reached in and took a handful before passing the box back. I popped them in my mouth, one at a time, watching birds flit through the trees, a squirrel skitter up the tree, tail swishing.

We sat there for a long time, passing the box of Cheerios back and forth between us, watching the animals, the sun rising higher into the sky.

"Wanna go swimming?" Peter asked, and before I had a chance to answer, he was standing up, slipping his shoes on. I joined him, not really sure that I wanted to go swimming. I liked just sitting and watching my surroundings. But if Peter was going, so was I.

I followed him down the path until we came to the lake shore. The water lapped the shore, pouring over the rocks and then flowing back and forth. Peter took his shoes off, sticking them up on the bank, and he pulled his shirt off, too, sticking it on top of the tile. I couldn't help watching as he took his pants off, too, leaving him with just his boxers. My mouth was dry as I saw this, and I didn't know what to say, or do. I could barely think about anything, except the nearly nude Peter in front of me. Usually, Adam and Rachel would be here with us, and we would play the game of trying to get Rachel into the water. She would squeal and say "oh, it's too cold!" and all Peter and I would grab a hand, Adam pushing from behind, as we tried to drag her into the water. That made it much easier for me to ignore the two male bodies that were on display.

But now it was just Peter and I, there was nothing else to concentrate on, and I couldn’t look away. Finally, Peter straightened, tossing his pants onto the pile with the rest of his things, and he looked at me.

"You were planning on swimming in your clothes?" He didn't even mention the blush covering my face, which I was thankful for.

"Just gimme a minute," I said, and quickly took of my sweatshirt and pants. Then, after a moment of decision, I took my t-shirt off as well.

"Race ya into the water!" Peter shouted, and took off running before I had a chance to drop my clothes into a pile on the bank, next to his. Rather than chasing him into the water like he wanted me to, I took my time folding my shirt and pants and placing them in a neat stack next to my shoes. Since Peter was already waist deep in water, hands on his hips as he waited for me to join him, I took slow steps down the beach and into the water.

"Could you walk any slower?" Peter was getting annoyed, which made it even more fun for me. I walked even slower, not that it was hard, with the water making my legs feel even heavier. When I had gotten into the water up to my thighs, Peter could take it no longer, and he sloshed forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him. I crashed into his chest in a very ungraceful manner. And the thing is, instead of letting go and allowing me to right myself, he kept hold on my arms so I could barely move.

"Peter?" I said, looking at him. Our chests were pressed together, and I could almost feel his heart beating. His eyes were locked on mine and I found myself unable to breathe. I pressed my hands against his chest, pushing lightly, like maybe I actually wanted to get away. Then Peter’s eyes shifted, so he was looking past me, and he let go.

The moment lost, I acted like it hadn't affected me at all, and dove into the water, The two of us swam for a long time, neither of us mentioning what had happened – or maybe what could have happened, if I hadn't ruined it – and just enjoying the sun and the beach.

When I was done, I climbed back onto the beach and lay down, hoping to get a nap before lunch. Peter lay down beside me after a moment or two, and I closed my eyes, letting the sun do its job. It was warm and relaxing, but I found it impossible to sleep when the cogs in my head kept spinning. Peter peter peter over and over again. What would have happened if I hadn't said anything? Would he have kissed me? Would I have let him? Who was I kidding? Of course I would have let him. Of course now I wouldn't have the opportunity, since I'd ruined everything with my big mouth.

What an idiot I was. Despite my thoughts, I did, eventually, manage to catch a short nap, but it was soon over when I began to get cold. The sun had ducked behind a cloud, creating an instant change in the air temperature. I got to my feet and looked around. Peter was nowhere to be found, and it looked like he'd taken both his clothes and mine. Maybe I had been sleeping deeper than I thought. He had been kind enough to leave my shoes, though, and I slipped my feet into them, heading back towards the campsite.

Peter had started a fire and was roasting a hot-dog on a stick. I noticed that he had his clothes back on, and mine were still in a pile, sitting in the dirt next to his shoes. I picked them up and started pulling my pants on.

"Lunch?" he asked, offering me the package of hot dogs. I took one and sat down next to him. The sun had come back out from behind the cloud, beating down on us and making me warm enough not to have to put my t-shirt on, so I didn't. It was a little awkward for me, about as awkward as it is to be in front of someone for whom you hold intense feelings and you're not fully dressed.

"I thought you were going to catch us some fish," I said, after I'd already finished one hot-dog and was starting on my next one. Peter shrugged.

"Didn't feel like it. Maybe tomorrow or something." Then he grinned at me and my heart skipped a beat. "Have a nice nap there, Cinderella?"

"Don't you mean Sleeping Beauty?"

"That would imply that you actually have good looks, and we all know that's not true," he added, and then started laughing. I punched him in the arm, but not too hard. I knew he was just joking around with me, but part of me wondered if he really did think that I was ugly. And I had the idiot thought to actually ask him.

"You really think so?" I sounded like a girl, asking him that, but I wanted to know, even though the answer was probably not going to be to my liking?

"What? You mean, do I think you're ugly?" he asked, brows furrowed together as he looked at me. I hadn't meant to change the tone of the conversation so quickly, but everything about this trip so far was culminating in something that just might turn out to be dangerous.

"Yeah." My voice felt different, like it was coming from far away, not from my own mouth but someone else's.

"No, I don't think you're ugly. I mean, jeez, Tom." He ran his hand through his hair and wouldn't look at me. My heart was beating faster.

"Do you think about me sometimes?" I couldn't believe the words had come out of my mouth, couldn't realize how ridiculous I sounded. Peter was just as startled as I was and he finally looked at me, his eyes wide.

"What?" I don't know what was coming over me to make me think what I was saying and doing was a good idea. I wanted to kick myself, but since I'd already started, I might as well finish.

"I mean, do you think about us? Like what we could be if..." I wanted to say it the right way, but it was hard, "if you liked me the way I like you." And I couldn't look at him anymore, afraid of what I would see in his eyes. There was a silence for a long time and I wondered if I'd even spoken the words aloud. Maybe it was all in my imagination.

"Oh, Jesus, Tom." He sighed, and I looked up, trying to see if his reaction was a good one or a bad one. He still looked, well, shocked, but I still couldn't see if it was a bad thing or not. "I don't... I mean, really?"

"Could you say something else, please?" I asked, well, more like pleaded, "like maybe 'yes Tom I like you that way, too' or 'no, Tom, I don't like you like that' so at least I know what's going on." I couldn't take it any longer, though, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"Never mind, okay? Just pretend I didn't say anything." I stood up, half expecting him to protest, half hoping he would. Nothing. So, without looking over at him, I walked past the campfire, off our campsite and into the woods. Tears started pouring down my cheeks as I stumbled through the woods. I kept walking, and the trees seemed to go on forever.

If Peter didn't return my feelings, I could probably live with that. I mean, jeez, I wasn't the first person to have an unrequited crush on someone, even if it was my best friend. But if I lost his friendship because of my stupid big mouth, I definitely wouldn't be able to live with it. It wasn't like I didn't have other friends at school, but they were more like casual acquaintances, people I talked to, but there was nobody quite like Peter. I wouldn't be able to find someone to take his place, that much I was sure of.

I had walked so far that I didn't even recognize where I was anymore. I'd never gone this far from the campsite, and I hadn't been paying attention to the way I'd been walking, so I wasn't sure how to get back.

I patted my pockets, searching for my cell-phone, but it wasn't there. I'd left it in my bag, in the tent. Shit. I turned around and started walking back, but none of it looked familiar. I kept tripping over roots and catching myself up short. I turned this way, then that, and before long, I found myself in front of a stream that I had never seen before. The water seemed to be flowing a lot faster than I would expect this time of year, and the bottom of the stream was covered in smooth stones.

But across from the steam looked like the area I'd walked by near the campground. I could have crossed it when I'd been in my daze and just not have noticed. I paused for another moment, thinking about this. Then I sighed to myself, figuring that I should be more worried about what was going to happen when I got back to the campsite and spoke to Peter, instead of what was going to happen if and when I crossed the stream.

It was more than a stream, really, a lot wider than it had originally looked. But that tree was looking really familiar to me, and I seemed to remember passing it as I left the campground. So, I took a step down the bank. The sand gave a bit underneath my shoes, and my knee twisted a little bit, but not enough to hurt. I kept going down the bank, and stopped before I reached the water, looking at the rocks and wondering if they were sturdy and safe enough for me to cross safely. The creek (and maybe it was more like a brook) wasn't wide enough for me to cross without stepping into it. I sighed, and took a deep breath. Then I took the first step. My foot landed on the sandy bottom of the creek, the water seeping into my shoe. My next step landed on a rock... but the third step.... everything happened so fast that I could barely register what was going on. I slipped and my leg twisted underneath my body and I collapsed onto the ground. And then my head fell back, slamming hard until everything went black.

[&]

I came home from the hospital with a cast on my leg and some pain medication. I hadn't seen Peter since I had woken up at the hospital after my fall. I wasn't sure that I wanted to see him again, not after his obvious rejection.

"Can I get you anything, Tom? A drink? Something to eat, maybe?" Mom asked, after she'd made sure I was settled in on the couch, my broken leg propped up on a pillow.

"Just the remote," I said, grinning up at her. The only thing to watch at the hospital had been soap operas, and I was hoping for some good old cartoons.

"All right. Well, I'm going to be in the kitchen. Let me know if you need something, okay?" she said. I nodded, and she got me the remote before she went into the other room. I flipped through television stations until I found something good and left it on. I leaned back against the couch, sighing to myself.

I wasn't sure exactly what had happened from the time I'd hit my head to when I woke up in the hospital. I mean, obviously Peter had found me and brought me to the hospital, but he hadn't been there when I woke up, and he hadn't showed up in the time I had been there. Clearly he hadn't wanted to talk to me again, not after I told him I was in love with him.

And then the doorbell rang. I jumped a little at the sound, which I hadn't expected, and I heard Mom walk towards the door and open it.

"He's in the living room, Peter. Would you like to see him?" When I heard his name, I froze. What, so now he was here? I straightened up, adjusted the blanket on my lap and waited for him to come into the room, nervous about what he was going to say.

He came into the room, followed by my mom. My heart stopped beating for like a second, and then the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile and I found my breath again. He came over to stand next to the couch, hands stuffed into his pockets and he looked really uncomfortable. It was incredible awkward.

"Hon, since Peter's here, I'm going to be upstairs for a while, okay? Just let me know if you need anything." Mom could obviously see that this was going to be a moment, and she was smart enough to leave before it got too weird. It wasn't until her footsteps faded upstairs before Peter said anything.

"I came to apologize." He shrugged, "I guess it's my fault, all of this." He sat down in the arm chair with a big sigh, and I turned so that I could see him.

"It's not your fault. I shouldn't have said that stuff." I couldn't take my eyes off him, waiting for some kind of glance of recognition.

"No. Tom, don't say that." He got up from the chair and then knelt down next to the couch so we were level. I knew what he was going to do, but it still came as a shock when he kissed me. Only he didn't get my mouth at first, and his nose sort of bumped my cheek, but then I tilted my head a little bit and he moved his and then our mouths just sort of slid together. There weren't like, fireworks or anything, but it was soft and gentle and really, really nice.

And over way too soon. But Peter kind of smiled at me and I knew there would be much more coming soon.

"Yeah. So that's what I was going to say."

"You could've just said that the first time and saved me a broken leg," I replied, mostly joking.

"I'll remember that for next time." And then he kissed me again and I didn't worry about it anymore.

The End

Author's Note – Okay, some of it was, well, a little contrived. I have trouble making my endings not-so-cheesy, but I'm trying. Anyway, I'm enjoying my longer fics better anyway, so you might enjoy those more, too.