I'm woken up by some shouting.
I open my eyes, disoriented.
Outside, the sun is already gone, and the cabin is submerged in darkness.
What time is it?
My movements are what wake Beck up… not the shouting.
"What's going on?" he asks, sleepy.
"Someone's yelling outside" — I reach for my phone to check the time.
It's almost eight at night.
When I sit up, looking for some clarity, Becket groans and rubs his face against my thigh.
I slept so deeply that, like him, I’m still a bit disoriented.
Are they actually shouting outside or did I imagine it?
I laugh when Beck takes advantage of my position to bury his face between my thighs. I feel him inhale deeply; my shirt has ridden up, leaving only the fabric of my panties as a barrier.
"Beck," I say, pulling his hair to make him come up,
