And now I’m thinking about sex for what seems like the millionth time since I fell into RJ’s lap on the plane a few days ago. And I’m thinking about how uncomfortable this bed is in comparison to the one in his spare room. Right next to his bedroom. Where he’s probably sleeping right now. Unlike me.

Instead, I’m lying on a lumpy mattress, staring at the ceiling, freezing under a pile of musty-smelling blankets, wishing I’d taken him up on his offer.

I know without an ounce of doubt that I would not be sleeping in the room beside his if I went back to his place. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with people being attracted to each other. In theory, it’s a natural human reaction. But I have never been this wildly attracted to anyone before in my life, and I worry that my lack of restraint may be a problem.

I roll over onto my stomach and pull one of the dank pillows over my head, close my eyes, and try to shut my brain off. It’s pointless, though. I’m wide awake. It’s only four o’clock in the morning, but I give up on trying to sleep.

I make myself a coffee, toast a bagel and slather it in cream cheese, and head outside with a pair of binoculars. While we were in town yesterday I was able to borrow a couple of books on my e-reader, and I picked up a million brochures so I’ll have some reading for comparative data analysis.

I get lost in my reading and watching for dolphins and whales on the water for the next few hours. I would probably spend the entire day sitting outside, despite it being cold and my fingers being mostly numb, just to avoid the cabin.

Eventually I need to use the bathroom, and I could definitely use a fresh pot of coffee, since my eyeballs feel a lot like eggs covered in sand when I blink. The phone rings just as I’m finishing up in the bathroom. I don’t even bother to wash my hands. Instead, I rush out with my pants still half-down and answer the call before the phone stops ringing.

“Hello!” I shout and then cringe because I’m too loud.

“Lainey?”

My excitement deflates like a sad balloon, but I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Oh, hi, Mom.”

“Thank God you answered. I was getting worried. I emailed four times already this morning, and I’ve been calling for the past two hours.”

“Oh, sorry, I was outside and I couldn’t hear the phone, and cell service really isn’t reliable here. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, oh yes. Everything is fine. I was just worried about you since you didn’t call yesterday. I read an article about bear attacks up there in Alaska. Did you know you can’t keep your garbage outside because of the bears? And did you know that brown bears are related to grizzlies? They’ll come sniffing around if you leave any food out. You have bear spray, don’t you? I should have insisted you take shooting lessons over archery when you were a teenager.”

“I know all about the garbage, Mom, and you know how I feel about guns.” I shudder at the thought of ever having to hold one.

“I know, I know. But what about the bear spray? Do you at least have that?”

“I do.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good. How are things going? You know it’s all right if you get homesick and decide to come back early. Your ticket is open ended, so you can fly home anytime.”

“I’m actually having a great time.”

“Oh. Well . . . that’s good. You’re managing the anxiety okay, then? You have all your visualization techniques for when things get stressful?”

“I’m managing everything just fine, and yes, I know what to do when things get stressful. It’s pretty quiet around here, though.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She doesn’t sound glad at all. “Have you made any friends? You can be so focused on your studies and sometimes making friends is hard for you. Are there any other students there?”

“No other students, but I did make a friend.”

“Really? That’s so wonderful!”

I try not to be affronted by her shock.

“Where did you meet her? Have you done fun things together? If she’s not a student, what does she do? Is she local?”

“I met them on the plane. They’re not local—they actually have an alpaca farm in New York, which is really cool. We went boating yesterday.”

“Well, that sounds fun! Did you wear a life jacket? What’s her name?”

“RJ.”

“RJ? That doesn’t sound like a girl’s name.”

I hate that I’m twenty-five and telling my mother that I met someone who isn’t female is still a thing. “That’s because RJ isn’t a girl.”

I’m met with silence—a long, heavy silence. I’m aware it won’t last. “You’re spending time with a boy? What do you even know about him? And who goes by initials? I don’t like this at all, and I don’t think your father is going to like it either.”

I bite back the scathing remarks I’d like to let fly, aware I’ll regret it if I get into an argument with my mother with no way to patch things up from this far away. “He’s very nice, Mom. He’s been very helpful and kind. He’s taken me grocery shopping, and we had a nice afternoon exploring the town together.”

“Do you really think this is a good idea, Lainey? You know how attached you get to people. You’re only there for six weeks, and you already sound smitten!”

“I’m not smitten.” I don’t like how sour those words are. “I’m only here for a short time, and he’s only here for a few weeks. There’s no harm in spending time with someone I like.”

“Boys only want one thing, Lainey.”

“He’s not a boy, Mom, he’s a man—and I’m not a girl. I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman. We have fun together, and I’m going to enjoy my time with him,” I snap.

More silence follows.

“Please, Mom, don’t make this hard for me.”

She sighs. “You know how much I worry about you.”

“I know, but I’m having fun, and he really is nice.” And very good at kissing. “How’s everyone doing? How is Mooreen? She must be ready to have her calf soon. Is Dr. Flood coming to take care of that?” It’s not a subtle shift, but it does the trick.

My mom goes off on a rant about the animals, then goes on to gossip about the neighbors.

Eventually she lets me go so she can get back to laundry. I decide to call my friend Eden, who recently moved out to Chicago for a great job. I miss her, but we still keep in touch through phone calls and email. She’s much more enthusiastic about my new friend.

By the time I end the call with her, it’s already two o’clock in the afternoon, and I’m tired and hungry. I eat a handful of crackers, too exhausted from being up since four o’clock in the morning to be bothered with boiling water and making noodles. The sun is no longer shining, clouds having rolled in while I was on the phone, darkening the afternoon sky.

I decide a twenty-minute nap will do the trick and that I might be able to make it through the rest of the day, and I have half a hope of getting a decent night’s sleep. After my nap I can call RJ and see if he’s still up for doing something.

I put on some relaxing music and lie down on my lumpy bed. The moment I close my eyes, RJ’s toned chest appears behind my lids. I allow the memory of his lips on mine and the way it felt to be pressed up against all those hard muscles to take over as I sink into blissful sleep.