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My eyes started to crack open at the light that was flooding through the blinds covering the windows. It was too early to be up on an off day. I shut my lids and returned to the warmth that was currently enclosing.

The warmth that was enclosing me.

The warmth.

My eyes snapped opened when I realized there was no possible way that I could be my own warmth, and unfortunately, the blanket did not emit its own heat. My eyes were opened all the way this time and were fully alert. I was staring at a shirt covering a toned chest that I at the moment, didn't recognize. My head wiggled upward to look up at the foreigner in my bed. The mess of blonde hair was a clear sign that I was at the moment engulfed in none other than my roommate's arms.

The events of yesterday flashed through my mind, and I relaxed remembering that I had asked for Miles to stay with me in my bed. No, just kidding that did not relax me, that riled me up more because I had actually asked Miles myself to stay with me in my bed.

What the hell was I thinking? Jesus, Christ. Have I gone crazy? This is the guy that I just realized I liked, and I liked him a whole freaking lot. There we were though. In my bed. Together. Basically hugging. The whole damn night.

I liked him though. Why was I making such a big deal out of this? However, that's probably why this is way more awkward. Because I freaking like him. This doesn't happen in real life. When you like someone, they almost never like you back and from my past experiences, I am forever too much of a wimp to say anything to them. Now, I like someone, and we were currently sleeping in the same bed. The same fucking twin size bed!

While this internal breakdown was happening, I did not move one inch from where I was to not wake Miles up. He was asleep, and it was an off day. Might as well let him enjoy it for a little while.

My face was centimeters from being face first in to Miles's chest, which was freaking me out just a little. The slow breaths that were escaping his nose were blowing in to my hair at a steady pace. It tickled a bit to be honest. It had been a solid five minutes, and I could not lay still any longer.

"Stop fidgeting," a voice finally muttered after several seconds of me shifting around. It was low and laced with sleep, and it was probably one of the hottest things I've ever heard in my life.

"Sorry," I whispered, remaining still as I gazed up at his face.

A slow, sleepy smile appeared on his face as one eye cracked open and looked down at me. His arms pulled me even closer than we were before, so that now my nose was officially smashed in to his shirt. I couldn't help but take a strong smell of his shirt that was always smelling of his cologne. A spicy waft that reminded me of pine trees and peppermint sticks filled my nose.

"Why are you up so early?" he mumbled to me with his eyes squeezed shut. I flinched, thinking that he had caught me breathing in his cologne.

"Good question," I replied, turning my head so my cheek was now resting on his chest. Try not to be tempted to nose his shirt again.

All I got in return was a groan followed by Miles's face being buried in my hair. I froze at the feeling of more of his body touching mine. His nose was pressed in to my probably disgusting hair, and I prayed to God that he wouldn't say anything about how greasy it is.

"Why does your hair smell so good?" he asked from his current position on top of my head.

Why is everything you do so freaking cute?

"I do wash it," I answered instead of asking my previous thought.

"With what?"

"You're very curious in the morning."

"I can't help it. The wonderful scent of your hair is making me ask stupid questions."

I think I mentally died inside.

"It's Citrus Flower."

"Will you please keep using it?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on throwing away the almost full bottle."

"Good," he sighed in to my hair.

I couldn't help but grin at the ridiculous things that were leaving his mouth. He wasn't holding anything back.

"You also say whatever is on your mind in the morning, too."

"So I've been told."

I was getting tired of laying down and getting a headache with all the blood rushing to my head. This moment was not something I wanted to stop, but I didn't really want a headache. Pushing my arms down on the mattress, I began to get up to hop off the bed. Before I could get very far, two arms again encircled my waist, dragging me backwards.

"Don't leave," Miles complained. I was sitting up in the bed while Miles was still sprawled on the sheets with his arms locked around my hips. I did my best to keep my breathing under control at the very interesting position that we were currently in. I could just lay back down and cuddle more in to his chest. I wouldn't mind that in the least bit.

Before going back to the nice warmth that was tugging me back down, I glanced over at the clock causing my jaw to almost hit the floor.

"It's 10:24!" I yelped, squirming around in his tight hold.

"So? We don't have practice."

"We missed breakfast, and maybe we missed something that the rest of the team planned. We've just been laying in bed," I squealed.

We've been laying in bed. That sounds so bad.

"I can get us breakfast. Everyone is still probably asleep, and there is nothing wrong with laying around in bed for awhile." He said the last part with a slow smile that made my heart flutter just a little bit.

"Let's go see if anyone is here," I said pulling on his hand to get up.

He stayed put and face planted in to a pillow. Not feeling like waiting for his lazy ass to get up, I crawled off the bed and headed for my dresser.

Luckily last night, I had woken up about an hour after falling asleep and changed in to a t-shirt and running shorts. Sleeping in sweaty baseball clothes was not on my agenda.

I yanked open the drawers, hunting for my Nationals sweatshirt. Every drawer that was opened did not hold my beloved sweatshirt.

"Miles, have you seen my sweatshirt?" I asked, turning around to face him.

He was laid back in my bed with his arms placed behind his head. His biceps were on full display, and I had to do my best not to drool at the very sight. His eyes quickly flicked up to mine. What the hell was he looking at?

"You spilled marinara sauce on it yesterday during dinner. It's in the 'to be washed' pile."

"Oh, yeah." I turned back around to face my drawers and opened up another drawer.

I didn't bring another sweatshirt with me. And it was cold in the dorms in the morning.

"You can borrow one of mine," Miles suggested from behind me.

"Really? Thanks!" I spun around again, and for the second time, caught him looking at something before his eyes moved up to meet mine.

"Would you stop doing that?"

"Offering you my sweatshirt?"

"No, stop looking at whatever you keep--are you staring at my..." I couldn't even finish the sentence.

Miles's cheek tinged ever so lightly pink, while a sheepish grin spread across his face. Then, it turned in to his signature smirk.

I flipped him off before moving over to his set of drawers. "You perverted idiot," I grumbled.

"What'd you say?" he called with his sarcastic tone prominent.

"I said, that you are a perverted idiot," I said in a loud voice.

"I beg to differ," he shot back.

"Oh, really?" I opened his drawers before finding his Penn State sweatshirt in the bottom drawer.

"Mhm," he hummed in response.

I rolled my eyes and slipped the sweatshirt over my head. It smelled very much like his cologne. Before turning back around, I took two deep breaths in to enjoy the delicious aroma.

"Does that work for right now?" Miles asked suddenly, breaking me out of my over-sniffing of his sweatshirt.

"Yeah, it's a little big, but it'll work," I sputtered out, hoping he didn't see me burying my face in to his clothes.

"It looks better on you than me," he said looking me over. I practically buckled under his gaze. "Come here."

I made my way over to my bed as Miles sat up and placed his feet on the floor. I ended up standing between his legs. He moved my head to the side, so my cheek was in full view.

"Does it still hurt?" Miles pressed, a gruff edge to his voice.

"No," I answered, touching the tender spot.

"There's some bruising but nothing serious."

"Is it noticeable?"

"I only notice it because I know that it happened," Miles replied, his eyes scanning the side of my face. Come on. Let's go."

I ran my hand once more over my cheek, images from yesterday flashed through my mind. Don't let it consume you. I did my best to push it to the back of my mind.

We headed out our door in to the hallway. I was definitely freaking out just a little on the inside when it fully hit me that Miles was loaning me his jacket. And we had slept in the same bed last night. That still has not totally sunk in yet.

"I say we just bang on all their doors and make a lot of noise," Miles suggested with a devilous smirk.

Without really thinking more about this wonderful plan, I stuttered out a "sounds good."

We ran to one of the ends of the hall and readied ourselves to go sprinting down the hall.

"Ready," he began.

"Set," I proclaimed.

"Go!" we yelled in unison. Together we raced down the hall, pounding on all the doors and yelling anything that came to mind. As we reached the end of the hall, we looked back to see all the doors opening and heads popping out.

So, looks like I was wrong, and they were all definitely still in their rooms. This is not going to end well.

"You guys are so dead," Jackson called from his room with Danny.

At that moment, the fourteen other team members came charging down the hall after us. Luckily, Miles and I had somewhat planned this out so that we would end up by the entrance to the stairs.

"Run!" I squealed, shoving the door open.

Both of us went thundering down the stairs as fast as possible, but fourteen other pairs of feet were now running down the stairs after us. Miles was going down at an alarming rate, which was now several steps ahead of me.

When we finally reached the bottom of the stairs, without any warning, Miles swung me up to be across his shoulder. My stomach was pressing in to his shoulder, and my head was faced backward to watch the rest of the team come flying after the two of us.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," I spitballed out.

"Backing out so soon?" Miles replied with a chuckle. It was a weak attempt at a laugh, since he was currently huffing pretty hard from running and carrying me.

"Where do you plan on going? We can't really run anywhere."

"You're in luck. You're not the only one who likes to go on runs around campus. I've learned my way around a bit. How does the golf course sound?"

"Whatever you think."

Miles was still running at a full sprint down the street with the team about 25 yards behind us.

"How do you plan on losing them?" I muttered, watching them chase after us.

"They'll get bored pretty quickly." And as if his words were their commands, the team slowed down and ended up just yelling a few profanities after us as Miles slowed down a bit.

"I can walk," I said after there was no sign from Miles that he was going to put me down anytime soon.

He wrapped both hands around my waist and gently set my feet on the ground. We continued walking in a comfortable silence. Today wasn't as warm as it's been almost the entire time we've been at camp. It was pretty much comfortable to be wearing the sweatshirt outside, surprisingly. At this point in our walk, I had no idea where we were or how to get back to the dorms.

"If your plan was to get me far enough away from everyone else to murder me, I think we're good here. I have no idea where we are," I supplied him, gazing up and down the street.

"How'd you know?" he said, snapping his fingers like I had ruined his plans.

"I'm just that smart, but really how much farther?" I complained.

The street stretched down for what seemed forever. There were building on both sides of the street with trees filling in the gaps between them. The leaves were almost an artificial looking bright green. Several pine trees were mixed in, adding all different shades of the hue.

"Come on" was the only response I got as Miles turned suddenly, going towards some of the trees.

I trailed behind him, confused as to how the heck this led to the golf course he was talking about.

Nevertheless, our feet left the asphalt of the street and began shuffling through the grass. Before I knew what he was going to do, Miles pushed right through the thicket of trees. I scurried after him to not get left behind. After several seconds of pushing through pine tree branches and the occasional over grown bush, I basically tripped out of the trees and came face to face with the golf course. Miles was already about 25 yards down the fair way.

"Come on, Slowpoke!" he called out to me, waving his arm.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. My bad for not being a professional woodsman. I picked some of the pine needles out of my hair and tossed them on the grass before jogging after me. As soon as Miles saw me catching up, he broke in to a light jog himself. I ran faster to catch up, but every time I picked up speed, Miles did the same. Eventually, I ended up chasing him down the fair way and across about four or five holes of the golf course.

"Are you kidding me?" I yelled at him from about 15 yards behind him.

He only laughed at me. I started to laugh as well, realizing how ridiculous this was. We both were laughing like idiots as we ran over hill after hill. After the fifth hill, I dropped to my knees on the grass and laid down on my back looking up at the blue sky.

"I give up," I cried.

My head was cushioned by the soft thick grass that was obviously manicured all the time by grounds people. Not a dandelion or brown patch of grass was in sight. The thick pine trees and other smaller trees were creating almost a wall on the sides of the fairway. Even the sand traps were neatly raked.

It was a deep summer blue that filled in overhead. The sky was filled with puffy white clouds that looked liked scoops of Miracle Whip floating in the air.

"You're boring," Miles said, panting lightly as he collapsed beside me.

I ignored him and continued to look up at the sky. Without much more thought, I closed my eyes.

"Now, you're going to go to sleep. You're so boring," Miles complained, poking at my side.

"What do you want to do?" I inquired with my eyes still closed.

"Let's play a game," he suggested.

"What are we ten?"

I take that back. Some of us did have a mind and maturity level of a ten year old.

"Do you wanna play a game or not?"

"Fine."

There were several seconds of silence before Miles finally spoke again.

"20 Questions."

I groaned out loud. He was ten years old.

"Sure, whatever," I mumbled.

"You can go first," he suggested.

I had 20 questions to ask whatever I wanted about Miles, but I had no idea what to ask him.

"How'd you meet Jackson?" I asked finally.

Miles seemed to tense at the mention of his best friend's name. "Why are you so interested about Jackson?"

What was he so flustered about?

"This has to do with you too, Dumbass. You guys are so close, so I was just wondering, how?"

"Fine, fine. We met when we were about eight. We were on the same baseball team that his dad coached," he replied. His lips curled in to a lazy smile at the fond memory. "We ended up going to the same middle school and high school, so we've just gotten closer and closer."

"That's cute," I cooed at him.

He rolled his eyes, but the small smile never left his lips. "My turn."

I waited for the question as he sat for a moment quietly deciding.

"Why do you play baseball?"

The question that slipped through his lips was one I never would have expected him to ask. I was thinking of all the sexual and perverted inquires that his mind could possibly think of. This question was tough as I thought about what to say. I had to bring up Dad in order to answer. Was I really ready to drop any of my past on him? I glanced to the side at the guy laying beside me.

His green eyes were intently watching me, but a smile spread across his face when I looked over. He had been there for me. Not that many people knew, and I think I was ready for Miles to join the small group.

I took a deep breath, and then pressed my lips in to a line before letting them open to speak.

"My dad," I finally replied.

Miles didn't say anything at my response. It was like he knew that I was going to say more.

I gnawed on my lower lip before continuing.

"My dad had a career in baseball for a while, and since I'm the only kid, I was going to play baseball, according to my dad."

"That's pretty awesome," Miles commented.

I shrugged. It wasn't the baseball career that made my dad awesome. It was my dad being himself that made him awesome.

"Why do you play baseball?" I asked my second question.

Miles chuckled before answering.

"My dad was the main reason, too. You know how I want to be a doctor. Well, ever since I was little, I've wanted to be a doctor, so I liked using Barbies as my patients."

I giggled at his ridiculous story and rolled to my side to face him, still laughing as he kept going.

"My dad wasn't super crazy about the whole Barbie thing, and he tried taking them away, but my mom swooped in and told him 'I was exploring myself.' My dad did not believe that for one second, especially since my two older brothers never did anything like that. He took the matter in to his own hands and was going to 'man me up.' So, in the spring after I turned eight, I was thrown in to little league."

By the time Miles had concluded his little story, I was dying of laughter beside him. My legs were pulled up to my chest as my arms gripped my stomach from laughing so hard. I could imagine little Miles with his Barbies sitting on the floor playing doctor.