Camping with Friends

"How did I end up in bed with an old fart?" My left arm lay across his stomach, right elbow holding my head up as I studied him.

"Don't know, you started it." He taunted me.

"I did, didn't I?" Hugging myself, pleased with the outcome, I continued, "You never would have, would you?"

"I don't know." Pensive, he considered my question. "Probably so, especially if you kept traipsing around in that flimsy t-shirt." He yawned and pulled me closer. "Let's sleep on it for a few minutes." Listening to him snore softly, I closed my eyes, smiling as I pictured our friends pondering the meaning of the unfinished beer bottles, unfinished dominos game and clothes littering the screen tent come morning.

"It will give them something to talk about at breakfast, anyway." Laughing quietly to myself.

I rolled over to look at him, the softness in his face, tanned skin bare except for what lay under the sheet that sat on his hips. Listening to the rain pound the roof, I pulled the sheet over myself and tucked in against his side. Eager for morning, to wake him for more, wondering if the rain would continue and we could stay in all day.