CHAPTER EIGHT (PART 2)
“Do the words ‘Oh, and don’t worry about bringing a sleeping bag, Ivy, I’ve got one for you’ ring a bell?” I glowered at Forrest.
“I do have a sleeping bag for you,” he attempted to counter.
“Okay, then it’s mine and mine only. Not yours as well,” I shut him down.
He pretended to be hurt, “Do you want me to freeze to death?”
“It’s late August in Virginia. You won’t freeze.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m willing to bet.”
“Okay, but seriously, what’s wrong with a 2 person sleeping bag?”
“The fact that 2 people would be sleeping in it,” I informed in a flat tone. “And that other person would be you.”
“Mhmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll ask you again, and what's wrong with that?”
I had intentionally kept Forrest unware of the reason sharing a sleeping bag with him was problematic. I had kept him ignorant long before I ever knew we’d be sharing such close sleeping quarters. That reason being my boyfriend. So, to him, there should have been no problem. We were both adults—20 years old. We were mature. We were friends. There was no issue he knew of.
I said nothing in response and this prompted him to procure a guess. “I don’t see why there would be a problem. But, ya know, when someone throws a fit over sleeping in the same bed—or in this case, sleeping bag—with a member of the opposite sex, it is typically because that person holds unwanted or hidden feelings of the sexual/romantic variety towards the other person.”
I laughed. Loudly and long. Loudly and long enough to get across the point that he was dead wrong. It wasn’t a problem because I had romantic feelings towards him; it was an issue because I had romantic feelings towards someone else. My boyfriend.
“No… Oh my gosh. No.” I snorted out between laughs. “Please tell me that’s not what you actually believe.”
His usual chipper expression faltered momentarily then his lips parted into a dubious smile. “Of course not. I was just throwing a theory out there—going off what I know.”
I was going to tell him about Conor. I swear I was. But when I saw his reaction something inside me instructed me to continue to keep the information to myself. “Good. Admittedly, there is no problem. I was just being a baby. Very picky about my sleeping arrangements.”
His face shifted into a relieved expression. “So you’re not gonna make me sleep under the stars tonight?”
“No. You can sleep in the rabbit tent,” I placated.
“Do the words ‘Oh, and don’t worry about bringing a sleeping bag, Ivy, I’ve got one for you’ ring a bell?” I glowered at Forrest.
“I do have a sleeping bag for you,” he attempted to counter.
“Okay, then it’s mine and mine only. Not yours as well,” I shut him down.
He pretended to be hurt, “Do you want me to freeze to death?”
“It’s late August in Virginia. You won’t freeze.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m willing to bet.”
“Okay, but seriously, what’s wrong with a 2 person sleeping bag?”
“The fact that 2 people would be sleeping in it,” I informed in a flat tone. “And that other person would be you.”
“Mhmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll ask you again, and what's wrong with that?”
I had intentionally kept Forrest unware of the reason sharing a sleeping bag with him was problematic. I had kept him ignorant long before I ever knew we’d be sharing such close sleeping quarters. That reason being my boyfriend. So, to him, there should have been no problem. We were both adults—20 years old. We were mature. We were friends. There was no issue he knew of.
I said nothing in response and this prompted him to procure a guess. “I don’t see why there would be a problem. But, ya know, when someone throws a fit over sleeping in the same bed—or in this case, sleeping bag—with a member of the opposite sex, it is typically because that person holds unwanted or hidden feelings of the sexual/romantic variety towards the other person.”
I laughed. Loudly and long. Loudly and long enough to get across the point that he was dead wrong. It wasn’t a problem because I had romantic feelings towards him; it was an issue because I had romantic feelings towards someone else. My boyfriend.
“No… Oh my gosh. No.” I snorted out between laughs. “Please tell me that’s not what you actually believe.”
His usual chipper expression faltered momentarily then his lips parted into a dubious smile. “Of course not. I was just throwing a theory out there—going off what I know.”
I was going to tell him about Conor. I swear I was. But when I saw his reaction something inside me instructed me to continue to keep the information to myself. “Good. Admittedly, there is no problem. I was just being a baby. Very picky about my sleeping arrangements.”
His face shifted into a relieved expression. “So you’re not gonna make me sleep under the stars tonight?”
“No. You can sleep in the rabbit tent,” I placated.
There ya have it! I bet you're all super disappointed :-)