I freeze for a second until I realise Brandon's tone isn't accusatory.
"I- I'm just looking at Pete's back. Look at it!" I stammer, trying to divert the blonde's attention from my sheepish expression. Thankfully, it works as he turns his gaze to Pete and grimaces.
"Christ, you okay?" He asks and Pete nods solemnly. "At least tomorrow you won't have the weight of food in there," he adds, pointing to the emptied rucksack, "speaking of which I beg everyone comes out and cooks now before I starve." With that, he ducks back out of the tent.
"Will you really be alright?" I ask softly as Pete slides his shirt back over his head.
"I'll be okay, Ae, don't worry about me."
I don't respond, knowing that I won't stop worrying until I, personally, have tucked him into bed in his own bedroom in his own apartment; safe and sound. For now, the least I can do is help get some food in him.
We collect our gas canisters, mini hobs and food and leave the tent. The others have already started to cook so we join them at the other end of the field where there's a wooden covered area that's considerably less flammable than grass. We set ourselves down on the floor, and I connect both our equipment.
Luke, following the diet of a real British teenager stuck in the middle of nowhere, is emptying several cans of tinned hot dog sausages into a pan, a grin plastered over his face. Owain, attempting to cook burgers on a small frying pan, looks at him in disgust.
"Luke, mate, I know you're weird but that's just minging." He says, and Kieran laughs.
"Don't try and tell me I'm weird when you stood in the middle of the road with a big stick and shouted, 'you shall not pass'. Knob." Luke retorts, evoking sniggering from the whole group, including myself.
I turn my attention back to my food and pour the contents of two soup tins into the pan in front of me and the pan in front of Pete. My logic, quite fairly, is that soup requires no recognisable cooking skill and is highly unlikely to give you food poisoning. I'm clearly not alone in that train of thought as I can see Tabitha, sat in the corner, calmly stirring soup and watching Paige get increasingly annoyed at her pasta.
About an hour later, I had made sure to watch Pete finish all the soup in his pan, even though after a few sips he had insisted he was full, to which I turned a selectively deaf ear. Everyone had cleaned, to the best of their ability and limited resources, their cooking utensils and had returned to sit outside their tents on top of roll mats or hoodies.. The sun had gone down a while ago, and I couldn't help but shiver in mid-October air.
"Is anyone else cold?" I ask, hugging my knees with my arms.
The general response is that everyone else just feels "a bit chilly", and that both Pete and I will get used to the "lovely" British weather.
At the mention of his name, Pete shuffles closer to me, our shoulders meeting and body heat reducing the numbing cold attacking my body. If I'm cold, he's probably half frozen. I reach behind me into the tent and feel around for the spare jacket I brought, and hand it to him. He looks me in the eye, as if unsure, so I force it into his hands.
He wraps it around his shoulders as a small smile plays on his pale, cold-bitten lips.
The conversation soon turns to school, and many names of students and staff I don't recognise are chucked into the air. I don't know what I'll do with the information that Mrs Stevens didn't actually quit but was fired for smoking weed in the staff toilets, but maybe it will come in handy one day... or maybe not.
Brandon turns his attention to Pete.
"So then, Pete, you're pretty popular with the ladies. Any ones you fancy." He asks, in an entirely light-hearted and comedic tone, but I feel a strong urge to reply on his behalf. However surprisingly, Pete speaks before me.
"Oh, ah, no. They're all very nice, though!" He offers a smile to Brandon, who looks at him quizzically.
"Really? No smash or pass?" Luke jumps in.
"I don't know what that is..." Pete trails off with a frown and Luke rubs his eyes as if weary.
"It's when you-" Ben starts but Brandon interrupts him.
"Nah don't go telling him, you perv, he'll find out on his own." He says cheekily, before adding, " by the way, Pete, do you ever use slang? Like at all? You sound well posh if I'm honest."
My eyebrows knit. I'm concerned that all this attention is going to make Pete uncomfortable.
"We're not taught slang in Thailand," I answer for him, and Luke laughs, loudly.
"See, Brandon? They're not gonna go teaching them to say 'wagwan' to everyone they meet you absolute bell end." Brandon chucks him a sarcastic smile but doesn't respond to Luke's teasing. This time, it's Paige that speaks.
"Okay Pete, try just saying 'innit' or something." She says, zipping up her hoodie and resting her chin in her palm.
I watch his face as his eyes scan all the expectant and silent faces around him.
"Err... innit" he says, tentatively, and the rest of the group bursts into hysterics, Luke and Brandon quite literally crying with laughter. Pete bites his lips and smiles a little, probably not sure how to react, and I honestly can't help but giggle a little.
"Ae! Don't laugh," he pleads, lightly hitting my arm and I shake my head.
"I'm sorry, it just sounds so wrong coming from you." I laugh, the warm feeling of happiness numbing the cold in my body.
"Just talk how you want to talk, Pete, don't feel pressured by these hooligans to talk like them," Tabitha says, although the curl at the corner of her mouth strongly suggests she's supressing laughter.
After the laughter had quelled and the group offered Pete a collective apology for teasing him, the evening picked up with some 'entertainment', which largely involved the other boys being stupid. It was quite surreal, really, sitting in the cold field on our own with the responsibility of self-reliance weighing on our cold, bruised shoulders.
Is this adulthood or just a fever dream?
I think I might just be hungry.
Pete is laughing too, the light, happy sound ringing in my ears like a finely tuned bell; clear and sweet. Over the couple of hours we stayed sat in our circle on the grass, we inched closer and closer together until my hand rested on top of his behind us.
Now, the moon is high in the cloudless sky, surrounded by a chorus of stars. Everyone is more subdued, the exhaustion of the day taking its toll. Gradually, Pete becomes heavier against my side and I realise he's falling asleep.
"Um," I interrupt Brandon's re-enactment of the time his chocolate bourbons were confiscated in English class and so he crawled underneath the tables to reclaim them, "Pete and are I going to bed."
The girls, both yawning, agree it's time to try and sleep and Brandon huffily concludes his story. Everyone starts to gather themselves together and bundle into tents after some rather half-hearted "good night" biddings.
Pete clambers into our tent behind us and collapses onto the sleeping bag, sighing as if he were a deflating blow-up bed. I smile as I close the zip, creating a thin barrier between us and the early winter air.
"Tired?" I ask.
Pete simply nods in response, burying his head into his arms. Then, he sits up suddenly.
"I don't have a pillow."
When packing for an expedition such as this, pillows are never high on the list of necessities.
I smile, a mischievous grin quickly spreading on my face. I tap my chest with the palm of my hand."
"Yes you do."
Pete flushes, and I spread out the other sleeping bag and unzip it, gesturing to his own.
"Well?" I say with a laugh. "Are you getting in your sleeping bag? You'll be cold without it." I slip into my own and re-do the zip, sealing myself into the slightly warmer space. Hesitantly, Pete follows suit, and as soon as he makes himself comfortable, I reach out, grab the edge of his sleeping bag and pull it towards me. Pete looks both shocked and panicked as his face stops with a jolt next to mine.
By now, the camp has fallen quiet, and all I can hear is Pete's uneven breaths, and I feel my throat go dry.
I want to kiss him, so badly.
But I can't. Not here.
I place my lips to his forehead before laying his head against my chest and lying back, taking a deep breath.
"Ae, are you alright?" Pete asks softly, and I place my hand on his head and run the strands through my fingers.
"I'm fine. Now go to sleep, we have a lot of walking to do tomorrow." I say tiredly, allowing my eyes to droop closed. I hear my boyfriend grumble in response, and I smile.
It didn't take us too long to drift off to sleep, Pete bundled against my side and my arm wrapped around him.
The dream I had, however, was far from relaxing. It started off normal; something to do with school and life in general, until suddenly I'm in my bedroom in my apartment and I see Pete, naked, lying on the bed, waiting for me.
I wake up with a start and instantly regret it. Mind you, I couldn't have stayed asleep, right?
Pete, I don't know when or how, and probably in an attempt to escape the cold, has wriggled his way out of his own sleeping bag and into mine, his arms hugging my torso and right leg hooked over mine, his knee right against my... crotch.
That means that the dream I started to have was a...
"Wet dream?!" I exclaim to myself in a harsh whisper, sitting up and feeling Pete's arms slip further down my torso and suddenly noticing how tight my pants are.
"Fuck, fuck fuck," I curse, gently but urgently taking Pete's arms and unclasping them from me. But, he simply mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer into me, his arms re-clasping and his leg closing tighter over mine.
I have to stop myself from reacting to the feeling of his knee pushing into me, but part of me is determined to not disturb him. But, I don't really have a choice, do I? This situation is highly impractical and frankly... dangerous, especially considering how he acted the last time I got aroused by him.
I place a hand on his shoulder and shake him slightly.
"Pete," I whisper, " wake up." After a few moments, I see his eyes flutter open and he looks up at my blearily. He yawns.
"Is something wrong?" He asks, and I mentally slap myself as the cute, sleepy tone of his voice only fuels my situation 'down there'.
I bite my lip and try to smile.
"No, uh, everything's okay, I just need to... pee! I need to go and do that."
Pete, slightly confused, nods and retracts his hold from me as I awkwardly begin to shuffle out of the sleeping bag. I thought I was being sneaky enough until I stand up, away from Pete, and he grabs my leg, pulling me around.
"Ae, something is stuck in your..." his face falls and a deep scarlet creeps up from his neck, "trousers."
I grimace.
"I'm so sorry, it's just you were lying so close to me and then-" I almost mention my dream but catch myself, not wanting to freak him out.
"Do you want help?" He asks, so quietly that I almost don't hear him.
I pause.
"What did you say?" I demand, lowly.
"Do you want..." his slim hand glides up my leg toward my thigh, "help?"
I swallow, a million thoughts crossing my mind and several sirens going off in my head, but only one word makes it out my mouth.
"Yes."