t h i r t y - t h r e e

*

I can't sleep. I've been tossing and turning for hours, occasionally catching a snippet of a doze, but nothing as substantial as actual sleep. There's a whole bunch of factors stopping me from dropping off, mostly the dull pain in my ankle that rears up every time I forget about it and move a little too violently; it doesn't help that my brain is working in overdrive, running through every moment of the past week.

Everything I tried to ignore, all the touches and hints and jokes and looks that I thought were flirting but I discounted. But I was right; they were. I can't stop thinking about Arjun's kiss. There was nothing shy or questioning about the press of his lips on mine, nothing hesitant about his tongue, and after a long week of a one-track mind, I have to indulge.

But I wish I could get some fucking sleep. He's been out cold for hours on the other side of the tent – though a little closer than we were last time we slept side by side – and I envy the way he dropped off so quickly. After the campfire, we dragged weary bodies to bed – or, rather, he wearily dragged my weary body to bed, a strong arm around my waist – and he gave me a chaste kiss. A goodnight peck. And then he was out like a light.

This is getting ridiculous. I'm hot and stuffy and my ankle's throbbing and I can't get comfortable, and every time I twist, I end up tangling in my sleeping bag. My mat keeps bunching up under me and it's a pain having to keep my ankle elevated but it's even more of a pain not to elevate it, and I just need to get some air.

It's no secret that I'm not the most elegant mover, especially when my movement is hindered, but I do my best to slip out of the tent quietly and unnoticed, without waking Arjun. Once I roll onto my front and crawl on my hands and knees, my foot in the air, it's relatively easy to get out without tripping over myself. When I make it onto the bristly bark chip and dry grass, t's an instant relief to be out of confines of the tent.

Three o'clock in the morning in Yosemite is the same temperature as the average – if not slightly nicer – summer day in England, a balmy nineteen degrees according to my phone, and yet it feels heavenly cool after the unthinkable highs I've experienced now. There's a spare mat on the ground, leftover from the campfire, around which no games were played last night thanks to everyone's exhaustion, and I heave a sigh when I drop onto it with one knee up to support my bad foot.

There's even a slight breeze. I close my eyes for a moment, more to appreciate it than to try to sleep, because there's just too much going on in my head right now. I need to let some of it out, and the trick to that is to scroll through various social media feeds until I'm so bored by everyone's pointless updates that it knocks me out.

I don't use any of them with much frequency. I post the occasional photo on Instagram, usually just a family shot or me with my friends, or walking the dog – sometimes, I admit, I post pictures of my food when I go out and it looks especially good, and there's no irony in it. I use Facebook to keep in touch with family, and everyone I went to school with bar George, and I get my news and updates from Twitter.

There's not a ton happening at this time but I mindlessly scroll through old updates, drifting past holiday photos and humble brags and adverts, giving out the odd like. There are so many people I should get rid of, school friends I added the moment I knew their names and have since said seven words to, and friends of friends I met at random parties, but I leave them be for now. This isn't the right time to purge my friend list.

I stop on a post Lily's been tagged in, some kind of big family meal that she is no doubt reluctantly part of to keep her dad happy. I can't imagine what it must be like to be the only child of a single parent who seems incapable of love, but all things considered, she handles herself pretty well.

It isn't long before I switch to WhatsApp, probably the app I use the most and mainly because that's where my family group chat is. If that's sad, I don't care. I've never been ashamed of how close I am to my family.

Just as I click on Flo's old message, when she sent me the photo of Arjun and Taylor, a new message pops up at the top of my screen. For a heart-stopping moment, I expect it to be George again, borrowing a friend's phone to harass me in the middle of the night, and I'm ready to get pissed off until I realise it's my dad.

DAD: what're you doing online at 3am? how's the trip?

I check the time and do the maths, and I figure it must be just after eleven for him. It's weird to think that when I'm not at school, which I never will be again, I easily sleep in until that time and yet for the past couple of weeks, I've got used to being up at the crackers. I wonder if that habit will stick once I'm home, or if I'll go back to being lazy.

I snap a photo of my ankle, the flash making it look worse than it is when the light gives my skin a yellowish tone and picks up on the bruising around my malleolus, which is puffy and swollen.

ME: i cant sleep. sprained my ankle in my poor attempt to kiss arjun. (yes i ignored mum's advice to keep my crush to myself and protect my heart but it worked out in the end). second attempt was more successful but ankle pain & overactive brain is keeping me awake. how're you?

My dad doesn't need to know all that. I needn't tell him anything more than the first three words, but the rest of the text comes spilling out in a very on-brand display of word vomit and I know I'll get a crying-laughing emoji in response before one predictable lands in my inbox.

DAD: that looks nasty! how did you sprain it?? im glad things worked out – i wont ask for clarification now but we'll talk when you're home. it's a lovely day here so i'm having brunch with mum and 2 of our top 3 kids.

He attaches a photo that he clearly didn't warn anyone he was taking – Mum's frowning at a pub menu; Florence is staring at the camera with wide eyes, and Pebs looks like he's in the middle of asking a question. I know I've got an amazing thing going here, but it doesn't stop the classic grass is always greener. I wish I was there with them, chatting with Flo and playing with Pebs and being totally useless when Mum whips out a crossword.

ME: typical me fashion – lost balance in a lake. i'll be fine though. enjoy brunch!! please say hi to everyone for me!

DAD: will do! love you, march. look after yourself. we need you back in on piece from your head to your feet!

DAD: now get some sleep, it's late. you need to rest and you'll heal faster if you sleep

He's right, but that's easier said than done.

Another message comes in. Another photo, this time a selfie in which everyone's looking at the camera. Pebs is giving me a wide, toothy smile – he's lost one of his front teeth while I've been away, a big gap in his grin – and Flo has her hand up like she's waving. Mum's leaning against Dad, her long arm thrown around his shoulders.

DAD: sending virtual hugs and kisses xoxo

I snap a horrendously unflattering selfie with the front flash and send it without a second thought; my family have seen me a hell of a lot worse. It isn't long before Dad replies.

DAD: what have you done to your head?!?!??!!!

Oh, shit. I forgot about my Togo-shaped cut. It's scabbing over nicely, though. If I resist the urge to pick at it, it might not scar, but I can very rarely resist the urge to pick at a scab. Already, my fingers are twitching to itch it.

ME: i fell for Arjun

DAD: LOL were you that smooth at the time?

ME: not even remotely.

After a few more minutes of texting, Dad repeats his order for me to sleep, and I eventually acquiesce. I turn my phone face down next to me and cross my hands under my head, letting out a long sigh as I stare at the sky.

It's beautiful out here. Quiet and calm and so far from the glare of a city that the sky is a true midnight blue, dotted with a dusting of stars like silver freckles. All I can hear, aside from the gentle rustle of the breeze in the trees, is Sam's almost-silent snores. He's sleeping open-air in a hammock, which sways every time he shifts. He has the right idea. I think maybe I'll try to sleep under the stars tonight. I used to be so afraid of the dark, one of those fears I carried with me from childhood, but now it doesn't seem so scary. Now, it feels like the natural state of the world.

*

The worst thing about sleeping outside is that the sky brightens the moment the sun comes up, and the sun comes up very early. I've probably only been asleep an hour, two at a stretch, when the sky changes colour from dusky black to pale grey. It can't be much later than five, which is sickening considering I was up texting my dad after three.

I refuse to check my phone. That'll just wake me up more. Instead, I wrestle off my t-shirt and wrap it around my eyes, and I gingerly roll onto my front in the hopes of catching the tendrils of sleep that are quickly floating away.

I guess it works, because the next time I shift into consciousness and open my eyes, it's bright. The sun has risen high enough to start to filter into the valley, weak morning rays pouring through the gaps in the trees like water through a sieve. For a while, I lie with my cheek resting on my folded arms, staring with unfocused eyes, until I register the soft crunch of footsteps.

I'm not the only one to wake, apparently. Arjun's walking across the campsite from the bathrooms, wearing nothing but sandals and a towel that he's holding at his hip. When he's closer, I smile, but I'm not sure he notices me. He's wearing his glasses but his gaze is unseeing, until he passes by and he frowns.

This time the shiver that runs through me isn't a good one. I don't know if he saw that I'm awake, but he definitely just frowned at me and walked straight past.

I prop myself up on an elbow. "Hey," I say before he disappears into our tent. "Arjun."

He stops. Turns around. Tilts his head slightly at me, then comes a little closer. He's standing a few feet from me so I have to peer up at him, the light behind him throwing his features into shadow.

"Hey," he says.

The shiver sours. The slightest frown digs itself into my lips. "Is something wrong?"

He adjusts his towel, shifts his weight to the other foot. "Why'd you sleep out here?"

"Huh?"

"I just ... did I do something?" he asks. "I mean, yesterday we open up at last and finally kiss, and it happens to be the first night that you sleep more than a metre away from me. I can't help but think something's off."

"No, oh my god, no!" I cry out, scrambling to stand so fast that I forget about my ankle and a pained howl escapes me. Arjun manages to stop my fall without letting his towel drop, and I grit my teeth against the flash of agony. The feel of his arm around me, his hand on my waist, certainly helps.

"Nothing's off," I say, trying to right my balance. "I just couldn't sleep at all, so I came out here. My mind was too busy. It wouldn't shut off and I was overheated and in pain and I just couldn't get comfortable." I nod at my phone and with an awkward laugh I add, "You can read all about it in my texts to my dad. Actually, no, don't read them. You'll be turned off the moment you see how horrifically honest I was."

A corner of a crooked smile cracks his frown, his face clearing when he realises I'm telling the truth. "I love how horrifically honest you are."

"I can't lie. It's a curse."

"It's really not, trust me. It's kind of adorable."

"You say adorable a lot," I point out.

Arjun laughs. "I wondered how many times I'd have to call you adorable before you figured out that I was into you. I thought you'd get the hint."

"I kind of need things to be spelled out for me," I say. "And then I need it to be said out loud because I can't fucking spell."

"A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e," he murmurs. His hand slides around my waist to the small of my back and he kisses me before I can protest that I have morning breath, but then I taste his minty tongue and I forget to care. He certainly doesn't seem to care. He's standing in the middle of the campsite, barely hanging onto the towel around his waist, kissing me at fuck knows what time it is.

There's a creak as Sam gets out of his hammock, followed by a dry laugh when he clocks us. We pull apart, my heart hammering like a jazz piano solo, but Arjun's hand doesn't drop from my back.

Sam stretches and yawns and tips his head at us. "Well, would you look at that. I guess you two finally figured out how much you like each other, huh?"

There goes the question of whether he knew.

He laughs at my blush and points at us and says, "You think you can hide something like that from Uncle Sam? Please. I've been around the block a few times. I know when two people have the hots for each other. I'm glad y'all finally grew the balls to admit it."

"Talking of balls," Arjun says, "I need to go and put some clothes on."

But he doesn't move yet, and we're still standing like that, my arms draped around him, close enough that I can hear the post-kiss hammer of his heart, when Carrie emerges. My yell when I stood seems to have woken her, and she comes out of her tent bleary-eyed and frizzy-haired, and she raises her eyebrows when she spies Arjun's hand grazing my waist. We're both topless, by coincidence, and I wonder what she thinks she's walked in on.

"Took your time, boys," she says with a husky, sleep-laced laugh. "We were beginning to think we'd have to lock you in your tent until you worked it out."

"We?!"

"Was it obvious to everyone except you guys?" She chuckles. "I'm pretty sure the twins had a wager going on, but I couldn't call it when we left Vegas and you still hadn't put two and two together."

I'm not sure how literally she means that and the heat in my cheeks betrays where my mind went. She heads to the loos and Arjun rolls his eyes and chuckles, and he heads to the tent. I stand like a lemon, stranded on one foot until Sam notices and offers his elbow. I latch on, and have to throw my arm around him to hop over to the camping chair.

"So." He looks from me to my tent and back again. "How'd you really sprain your ankle?"

*

I can't believe that, while our next stop is Tenaya Lake, the next night will be spent in San Francisco. Our final destination. It turns my stomach to think that the trip is coming to an end, that in a couple of days' time, I'll see most of these people for the last time.

As we bundle into the van – well, as Arjun bundles me into the van, helping me up the steps and into my seat – I look around the group that have become my surrogate family for the past ten days. I doubt I'll ever see Carrie, Ade or Brannan again, and unless I find myself in Switzerland someday, this trip will probably be the last time I see the twins.

I don't want to think about that. I can't bear to think that once I get on my plane back to England, who knows when or even if I'll see Young-mi again? I cling to the idea of returning to the states again next year. I have to, else my emotions will get the better of me. And, I remind myself, I still have two days. San Francisco may be the final destination, but it's not like we're dispersing the moment we arrive.

I let out a heavy sigh, which catches Arjun's attention as he takes his seat next to me. Once he's buckled up, he nods at my feet.

"Put your ankle on my lap," he says, ducking down to find the same jumper he rolled up when I slept on him the other day. "Doctor's orders. Keep it elevated."

"Who, exactly, is the doctor here?"

"Sam, by proxy, and every doctor you've ever seen, who has probably rolled their eyes at your medical history and told you to rest."

"Sounds about right," I say as I carefully twist in my seat and lift my feet onto his lap. My back is flush with the side of the van, so Arjun fills my line of sight, and an easy smile takes over my expression. It feels good to be draped over him, and to not have to worry about what he's thinking, how he's reading the situation.

Sam starts up the van once Young-mi's in, the last to do up her seatbelt, and we pull out of the Yosemite campsite. My heart would be sinking – and I'm sure part of it is – but it's hard to be too sad when Arjun's looking at me like he's been waiting in a restaurant for an hour and I'm his meal.

I loosen my seatbelt and scoot a little closer, close enough to put one hand on his chest and kiss him when he leans forward, and he drapes an arm around my shoulders to hold me against his chest. It feels like forever since I was held like this, by someone who cares about me, someone whose touch I crave.

I lower my head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. He runs his hand up and down my arm and rests his cheek against the top of my head. This is what I crave. Closeness, contact, the ease of just being.

"Togo's looking good," he murmurs. He rests his other arm on my knees, his hand on my thigh, and for once I don't have to madly run through all my turns offs because he knows he turns me on.

"Mmm. It never Beninified."

Young-mi turns around in front of us, utter bafflement sketched across her face. "Are you talking in code?" she asks. "Is this how boys talk about their penises?"

"Young-mi! God, no," I splutter.

Arjun taps my forehead and says, "I was talking about this bad boy."

"He is not bad boy." Her expression softens, as though she's only just really seen us. "You two, so cute together. I am so happy for you. Young-mi always knows, that's what my school friends said. I have nose for love, even if I can't sniff it for me."

Arjun doesn't flinch at the L-word. He just traces patterns on my arm and I hear the smile in his voice when he says, "You sniffed well. Would've been nice if you'd told me."

She holds up her hands and shakes her head. "Not my place. I don't share secrets; I don't break promises. But this"—she points at us between the headrests—"is not secret anymore."

From the front, Klara yells, "It was never a fucking secret!"

When she turns around and regards us with a look that says duh, guys, she says, "I swear to god, when we were in the Colorado River I said to Kris, those two don't even realise they both wanna fuck."

"Klara." It's Sam's turn to chastise. "I mean, I can't disagree, but come on. Let's not go embarrassing each other. Leave the guys be."

Arjun still has his arm around me; I'm still resting against his chest with my legs across his lap, so I feel the vibrations when he lets out a dry laugh and says, "Well, to be fair, she's not wrong."

A chorus of wahey goes around the van and Klara does a wolf whistle. I don't care right now that everyone's talking about us, that everyone has been talking about us. All I care about is the sound of Arjun's quickening pulse and the feel of his fingertips on my skin, the weight of his arm around my shoulder.

They can joke and bet and gossip all they like. I may have been far from smooth in my acquisition, but I got the guy. 

*

enjoy! not gonna lie, there's a fair amount of fluff coming up . . .

i'm away with friends for the next few days so i may not post over the weekend, as i won't be around to reply to comments etc. there'll definitely be a chapter on monday though!