I turned over again and again on my rigid cardboard mattress. I pulled all three quilts up to my chin and clenched my teeth. My toes were frozen, and I couldn’t feel my nose. With my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, I realized something. I realized that sitting there, I was going to be awake all night. That I would sit there, feeling my bones grow cold, until morning. I contemplated for a second or two how to solve the problem, but I had known the solution even before I needed it. It took all the courage in the world, but I sat up, wrapped all three heavy-weight blankets around my shoulders, and put my already icy feet on the floor. I walked as fast as I could out of the small icebox of a room, down the stairs, and through the hallway. But just before my destination, I had to stop. I had been told never to go near his room when no one else was awake. I couldn’t care less. It was break the rules, or break my heart and freeze all night. I knocked on the door, and then realized that was a bad idea. “Smart,” I thought to myself, for I was trying to be impossibly silent. But to my surprise the thin door swung open enough for me to walk slowly inside the incredibly dark room.

“S-S-St-Ste--” I began, but I before I could get one word out, he was there. He was there looking at me with a confused look-- rather, more confused than normally. Even in the dark, I could tell. I don’t know how he managed to get out of bed and come greet me so silently, it had almost seemed like he was waiting for me.

I stood there shivering as he started to chuckle under his breath, still trying to stay quiet, of course. He too had been warned of the consequences if there were to be any interaction between us that our parents weren’t aware of. “Poor Californian,” he whispered right into my ear.

I could feel his arms reach out to me and pull away the many layers of blankets I had bundled myself in. He treated me like a small child and slowly unwrapped me from my giant, unhelpful cocoon. On any other day, I would have told him to let go, and said that I can handle it, but on that night, his assistance, laughter at my incapability, and warm hands were exactly what I needed.

Once the weight of the many blankets was off my shoulders, something magical happened. In an instant, everything around me in the pitch dark room had changed, I still couldn’t see a thing, but instead of the cold night air, I felt warm, soft sheets, and a soft, large pillow. I smiled and let out a long sigh as I realized he must have carried me the small distance to his own bed.

My theory was confirmed as I felt him also climb under the covers. I was pulled into his arms, ever so gently. I didn’t move a muscle the rest of the night, but instead, simply lay there, with my head on his chest, and our legs tangled, all night long.

This became a regular occurrence. Every night, for the rest of my stay in the beautiful mountains, I would quietly sneak into his room, and sleep there, rather than my terribly cold own bed. Neither one of us questioned this, and neither one of us brought it up during the day. We knew if anyone found out, I’d have to leave early, and he wouldn’t be allowed to drive in the truck he had just gotten to work again.

All those nights we were together, none of those things mattered. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn’t, sometimes he was awake, stroking my hair or keeping my hands warm, even long after I’d fallen asleep. On nights like those, I wondered what he would think about late at night, and wondered if he ever thought about me. Even now, 1,300 miles away, back in California, in my always warm bedroom, I wonder what he’s thinking about.

And unless it wasn’t obvious, I miss him quite terribly.