Good at Being Alive(83)

I want that. I want it so badly that it’s as if the desire has hollowed me out, replacing every other thing I’d hoped for.

How can I care about him this much in such a short period of time?

Why do I care this much when I have no idea if he feels the same way?

“How are the legs?” Theo asks as I climb into the passenger seat. His gaze drifts over my face for a half second too long. I’d give up donut holes for a year at least to get fifteen minutes alone with him right now.

My mouth curls up at the corner. “They’ll be just fine by the time we get to Geiranger,” I reply, glancing back at the space behind me. “As long as I’m able to stretch, that is. This is, as you mentioned, incredibly tight. Barely any room for you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows—for the next eight hours of driving and filming, smiles and swallows and sighs will be the only forms of genuine communication we’ll have. “I’ll make it work,” he says, his mouth lifting to match mine. “I’m surprisingly good at fitting into small spaces.”

I’m not letting him get a wink of sleep tonight.

Soon we’ve left the city behind and are inching around curving roads up into the mountains, with a new waterfall around every turn. Unfortunately, all this natural beauty forces us to stop again and again to grab footage, and every second we spend while Jon films a fjord from forty angles is a second we’re not alone.

Damn you, Nature.

Despite the midnight sun, the light is low by the time we get to Geiranger, which is like every majestic photo you’ve ever seen of Norway condensed into the tiniest town imaginable. Cliffs jut high on either side of the fjord, and you can’t throw a stone without hitting a waterfall.

Even the campground, right in the town’s center, is at the base of a waterfall so picturesque it’s hard to believe it’s real. We are filmed pretending to unpack, then we have dinner with the crew on an outdoor patio in town while Katrina remains in the RV, setting up for the final shoot. The air is cool. I pull Theo’s sweatshirt on over the T-shirt and shorts I wore earlier, and goose bumps prickle along my thigh when my husband’s hand lands there and slides north, hidden from view by the table. I mention that the RV is “incredibly tight” so many times that even Lars finally gets fed up.

“Bex,” he says, “it’s just one night, for god’s sake.”

My foot taps impatiently. “Shouldn’t we head back? It’s getting late if you’re still going to be filming.”

“Tonight’s a little different,” he says. Theo and I exchange a nervous glance. “You guys are, for the most part, just going to do your thing. Katrina’s there setting up the cameras and microphones now.”

Theo’s head jerks toward him. “What?”

“We’re just putting cameras in the upper corners of the bedroom and living area. We’ll grab a little footage of you squeezing around each other, trying to get ready for bed, and then the lights will be off and we’ll just need to see some shapes moving in the bed, you know…as if something’s happening. And then one of you can sleep on the pull-out. Which works well, actually, since you’re not supposed to be getting along at this stage.”

Instead of getting our night alone…we’re getting a night where our every move is being tracked and recorded. Where we get to pretend to have sex but can’t actually have sex. We won’t even be able to sneak off to the shower…It’s barely big enough for one of us.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Lars was a world-class cockblocker.

Twenty minutes later, we’re back at the RV. I climb into bed once I’ve brushed my teeth and changed into pajamas, and the lights go off. Through a speaker I didn’t know was in the room, Lars gives us our instructions.

“Let’s get this done, guys,” he says. “Moving shapes in the darkness. Put on a show for five minutes. I’ll tell you when we’ve got enough.”

Theo and I exchange a glance. This five minutes on camera, under a blanket, is all we’re going to get.

I climb into bed and Theo exits, then returns a moment later, already shirtless. When he hunches over to avoid hitting the low doorframe, his abs look like a package of dinner rolls.

“You know what I’m craving right now?” I ask. “Dinner rolls.”

He laughs quietly, pulling back the covers. “That’s exactly the kind of sexy talk I’d expect from you in bed.”

Beneath the blanket, his hand slides over my hip and down my thigh. His cock—hard as steel—brushes against my side.

“Why are you craving dinner rolls?” he asks, his voice low and seductive. His hand goes between my legs, slipping beneath my shorts.

He buries his face into my neck. “So wet,” he whispers against my ear.

“I don’t know why I’m craving dinner rolls,” I reply loudly, arching into his hand as his fingers slide in and out. “Maybe I haven’t been fed enough lately.”

He removes his hand entirely and wipes a wet finger over my lips, slipping it against my tongue. “I had no idea you needed to be fed,” he whispers. “I’m a little hungry myself.”

His hand has just returned to the exact place I want it when Lars’s voice crackles over the speaker in the corner. “Okay guys, I need to see more action in there. You’re newlyweds. You’re not just going to lie beside each other talking about dinner rolls, for fuck’s sake.”