Sasquatch to the Moon

14: Camped

YETI

Campout rooms last year were just the hotel buddies, which we get to pick for ourselves, which means I should have Fen, like I do for roadie hotels. But I don't because Nico shuffled things around to stick different people in different rooms so she could have Fen. I got Rocket. Which is scary. I don't need him with me while I'm sleeping. My brain will shut off. The rooms are like what I assume American dorm rooms are, two twin beds and no room. 

So, after Steph almost burns the place down, and I get to make fun of Fenrir for clearly staring at Nico's ass when she walks away from our group, we start to get ready for bed.

It's not bad. Nobody's showering, we don't even have showers. It's just twenty-eight guys brushing their teeth side by side. But Rocket chooses my side. His shoulder is close enough to feel the heat radiation, and when he bends to spit out his toothpaste, he brushes up against me.

Then, Nico walks down the halls and shuts off all our lights. You know, before shutting the door behind her. She shuffled two things so that she didn't have to sleep in the room with Hadley this year, and instead, her and Fen get quality time. From what he's said, they basically live together. She's still got some of her stuff at the rink, and sometimes she sleeps at the rink, but mostly, she's with him. And from what I've heard about that, which I told him 'please, no more details', that gets pretty, well, hot and heavy, sometimes. He's head over heels in love with her. He's madly in love with her.

"Rocket," I roll over to face him. "I wasn't going to ask, but normally I sleep in just boxers, and I know it's weird to ask permission for this, but-"

"Yeah," he shrugs from where he's sitting. "I wasn't going to ask you either, but." He stands up and drops his sweatpants right out.

My insides do a little flip flop that makes me a little queasy. Rocket's fast to grab the back of his shirt and slip it over his head. 

Then he yawns, stretching straight up, fingers brushing the ceiling, long lithe body stretching, muscles pulling and tensing, toes curling down into the floor. He's in boxers, just boxers. I'd suffocate if he was in briefs. 

I can't look away from the way the moon coming in the window is lighting him up, making the hair on his legs and on his stomach shine silver. I can't look away from his thighs, long and cut and gorgeous. I can't look away from his abs, from his arms, from his wrists, from his yawning grimace. 

I force my gaze away as he opens his eyes again from the stretch, listening to the creak of the bed as he sits down, then it's my turn. 

I take a deep breath and stand up, following what he just did, dropping my pants and pulling my hoodie over my head, much faster and much more awkward than he did. 

Then I stand there for a second because I feel like he's got his eyes on me. I don't know for sure, but I feel the little pressure of it. I turn just my head and catch him looking down.

Weird.

I shake it off and get into my sleeping bag contraption.

Rocket clears his throat, which catches my attention. 

"Yets," He starts to talk, a silky ease behind my nickname. "I'm probably not going to be able to sleep, just warning you, and if I do, I have a nasty sleep talk habit."

"Uh, okay, and yeah, I probably won't sleep either," I sigh. "I don't like cabin-type places."

"I just don't like sleeping bags," he laughs. "I did boy scouts for one year, and a tree fell right next to the tent during the campout. Hasn't been the same since."