The light from the lantern was playing over his features, lighting them up and then throwing them into darkness again. I registered that he was now dressed for bed, wearing a light gray T-shirt that looked soft and a pair of long shorts. Since I hadn’t known I’d be staying over—which I really should have, given the fact he’d told me to bring a sleeping bag—I was still in the T-shirt and leggings I’d come in, which happily could double as sleep clothes. But I’d wriggled my way out of my bra under the sleeping bag, and so made sure to keep holding the sleeping bag up high as Frank knelt next to me.

“I didn’t bring one,” I said, with a shrug. “But I’m fine. I have a sweatshirt. And it’s just as good.”

“It’s not,” Frank said, a note of finality in his voice, and I suddenly wondered if he wanted me to go home. “It’s ridiculous to sleep like that all night.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling more disappointed by this thought than I should have been. But it was like my heart just plunged into the bottom of my sleeping bag. “Well. I can go, then, I guess.”

Frank smiled and shook his head. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Come share mine. It’s big enough for two.”

“But—” I started, but Frank had already taken the lantern with him and headed for his tent. “Frank!” I shout-whispered, but a second later, the light from the lantern went out. Collins sighed loudly from his tent again, and I realized I had limited options. I could stay out here, using my very uncomfortable sweatshirt as a pillow, and probably wake up with a zipper scar across my face that would make me look like a pirate; or I could share Frank’s tent with him. Would it seem weird if I didn’t?

And even though Sleep next to Frank Porter hadn’t been on Sloane’s list, the thought of it still felt incredibly scary. But there was no other real option, unless I wanted to draw attention to the fact that I thought it might mean something when he obviously didn’t. And the fact was, I wanted to. I didn’t know what that meant, and didn’t really want to think about what it meant just now. I spent a futile few minutes trying to get my bra back on in the dark, then gave up and just stuffed it into the bottom of my sleeping bag, then crawled out of it and walked over to Frank’s tent, pulling my sleeping bag behind me.

The flap was half down and I unzipped it all the way. My eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that I could see Frank sit up and smile at me. “Hey,” he said, his voice quiet but suddenly seeming loud in this small, enclosed space.

“Hi,” I murmured as I pulled my sleeping bag inside.  Though I couldn’t see much, the interior of the tent seemed smaller than it had from the outside. But it was a two-person tent, and Frank’s sleeping bag was on one side that seemed demarcated by the seam that ran over the top. I turned away from him as I got into the sleeping bag, then pulled it up in front of me.

“See?” Frank asked, moving his pillow so that it was right in the center of the seam, and between our two sleeping bags. “More than enough room. Much better than a sweatshirt.”

I lay down slowly, mostly sticking to my edge of the pillow—though it did actually seem to be an extra wide one, and it wasn’t like Frank and I were forced to lie right next to each other.

I was aware of how quiet it was in the tent—just the sound of Frank’s breathing and the occasional crinkle of one of our sleeping bags and, from the roof far above, the sound of the rain that must have started up again. I felt my eyes start to get heavy, and could hear that Frank’s breathing was growing slow and even. And though I couldn’t see details—he was just a nearby shape in the dark—I knew I could have reached out and touched his face without extending my arm. “Good night,” I whispered into the darkness.

“Night, Em,” Frank said, his voice slow and peaceful, like he could drop off at any moment and not be sure if this conversation had just been part of his dream.

I curled up on my side, facing him, and felt myself relax into the pillow we were sharing. And before I dropped off to sleep myself, I registered that our breath was now rising and falling together.

Before I was even fully awake, I could sense that something was different. I opened my eyes and realized after a second that I wasn’t in my bed at home. I realized another second later that I was lying in a tent with Frank, and that his arm was around my shoulders.

I felt myself freeze as I tried to assess the sleeping arrangement we had moved into sometime during the night. I was lying on my side, and so was Frank, both of us facing the same way. We were still in our respective sleeping bags, but we had moved nearer during the night, and we were now lying close together, fitted next to each other like two spoons. Our heads were close on the pillow, and Frank’s arm was over my shoulders and resting by my elbow.

I didn’t move for what felt like at least a minute or two, reminding myself to keep breathing in and out. When I’d gotten the hang of respiring again, I turned, a millimeter at a time, pausing every time it seemed like there was a hitch in Frank’s breath, until I was lying on my other side, and we were facing each other. The light was cool—it must have been early still—but I could see Frank perfectly. He had a crease running down the side of his face and his normally neat hair was sticking up.

And as I lay there next to him, his arm still around me, as we shared a pillow, I realized that I liked him.

Of course, I liked him as a friend. But this was different. This was more than that. This was wanting to reach over and touch his cheek, lightly, so as not to wake him. This was what had been bouncing around somewhere in my mind ever since the night of his birthday when I’d looked at him just a little too long in the moonlight. It was what I’d felt when we’d danced at the wedding. It was why I’d felt so awkward, going to pick up Lissa. It was why I wanted to stay exactly where I was, but why I also knew I needed to go.

I closed my eyes again for just a minute, even though I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, or stop these revelations from crashing down on me. It was like hitting the snooze button on your alarm—your sleep in that window is never very good, since you know it’s borrowed time, and that it will be over all too soon.

I let myself look at him a moment longer, knowing I’d never be this close to him again, then feeling sick when I wondered if he and Lissa had ever shared this tent, too. And, really, what was I doing there? I needed to leave.