My eyelids were heavy, fighting to shut out the brightness of the morning sun after a restless sleep. I brought a hand up to rub the sleep from my eyes, the movement causing my t-shirt to ride up, exposing my stomach. An arm tightened around my waist, and I suddenly realized I wasn't alone.
Lucas? No. Henrik.
I rolled over to face him, and his eye cracked open.
"Morning," he said. "Sleep well?"
"Not great," I responded, stifling a yawn. "Just thinking. About the past few days, and what I'm going to do next."
"Oh? Make any decisions?"
"I think so. Starting with a cup of tea... when I can drag myself out of bed," I burrowed myself deeper into the sheets, my face buried in my pillow.
"We should just spend all morning in bed," he said. "I can't remember the last time I had a good lie in... I never get the time. The climbing wall always opens at the crack of dawn for the morning crowd, and even when my shift starts later I like to go early to get a few climbs in myself."
I lifted my head to look at him. "Do you at least sleep in on your days off?"
"Nah, it would mess up my routine."
"So tragic. There's nothing like a good lie in... although typically I'm up early as well, to get in a workout before heading to the office. Weekends and holidays, though? I don't get up until I have to use the loo."
"Well, we're on holiday now... let's stay in bed until everyone else gets up."
I nodded, and he pulled the duvet over our heads to block out the sun's morning rays.
"So how does one become a climbing and survival instructor, anyway?"
"Why, did you want to become one?" he gave me a cheeky grin.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't prevent the smile from forming on my lips.
"Well, I took some courses, and got a certificate—"
"No, I mean, how did you get into it? What made you want to do that with your life?"
"Oh!" his eyes lit up. "I guess it was just kind of natural. Apparently I was quite the handful as a kid, always climbing and getting into things. I have two older brothers, so I was always trying to keep up with them, trying to prove myself to them. Climb higher, run faster, stuff like that. My mum called me her 'liten apa' – that's Swedish for 'little monkey.'"
I smiled at the nickname.
"My parents would send me to summer camp every year. I'm not sure if it was more for their benefit or mine, to be honest – but I loved it, and learned all sorts of outdoorsy things."
"That sounds like fun."
"It was," he smiled fondly. "I wanted to become a camp counsellor, but then we moved to the UK for my father's work, and I never got to go back."
"I'm sorry."
"Ah, it's okay. There's plenty to do in Isle of Wight, too, and I make it back to Sweden for visits whenever I can. But that's basically it, I just loved anything outdoors so it made sense to do what I loved, right?"
I smiled sleepily, and I tried to stifle a yawn. "Sorry, I'm not bored, just tired still."
"You can sleep, I don't mind," he said. "C'mere."
I snuggled closer to him as he wrapped an arm around me, the warmth of his body causing me to drift off once more.
When I woke again, Henrik was gone. I sat up, noticing a disposable lidded cup resting on the headboard, with my name written on it. I picked it up and brought it to my nose, discovering that it was a cup of Earl Grey tea, still warm to the touch. I smiled at Henrik's thoughtfulness, and took the tea with me as I left the bed and headed to the dressing room.
YOU ARE READING
Whiskey and Scotch
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