Sleeps Four

After a short drive, your group pulls up to a weathered wood cabin nestled among the towering redwoods. As you all pile out of the car, pulling coolers and backpacks with you, you take a moment to stretch your legs and admire the rustic charm of your accommodations.

Your very small accommodations.

Laura’s brows furrow as she takes in the modest size of the cabin. She turns to Jo, a hint of concern in her voice. "Are you sure this is the right place, Jo? It looks a bit... snug."

Jo double-checks the address on her phone. With a confident nod, she confirms, "Yep, this is definitely it. Matches the pictures perfectly."

Amy, her petite frame dwarfed by the towering redwoods, doesn’t look impressed. "And you're certain it has enough beds for all of us? I don't want anyone to end up sleeping on the floor."

Jo waves off the concerns with a dismissive hand, her grin firmly in place. "Relax, you two. I've got this all figured out. Trust me, it'll be perfect. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Laura and Amy exchange a look, their eyebrows raised in silent communication.

As you enter the cabin, you’re greeted by an open floor plan that maximizes the meager available space. A well-worn couch dominates the living area, its cushions sagging invitingly. A small kitchenette is tucked into the corner, its countertops lined with mismatched dishes and a few essential appliances. In the far corner, a bed sits neatly made with a patchwork quilt, its colors faded but still cheerful.

Your eyes land on the couch, and with a sinking feeling, you realize that it's a pull-out bed. A quick scan of the room confirms your suspicions - no other doors. This is the only sleeping space. A bed and a pull-out couch. You catch Laura's gaze, and in that moment of silent understanding, your plans for a night of passion evaporate before your eyes.

Amy sighs, her shoulders slumping as she turns to Jo. "What exactly did the listing say about the sleeping arrangements? I thought you said this place could sleep four."

Jo shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "It did say 'sleeps four.' When is that not good enough?"

Laura shakes her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips despite her exasperation. "Jo, 'sleeps four' doesn't necessarily mean there are multiple bedrooms. It just means there's enough space for four people to lie down horizontally."

"Well, I guess we'll all just have to get comfortable fucking in the same room then," Jo says, waggling her eyebrows. "It'll be like a grown-up slumber party, but with more orgasms."

"Not a chance," Amy and Laura say in unison, before breaking into laughter at their jinx.

Jo pouts, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "You two are no fun. I’m not saying we have group sex or anything, just sex with our partners. As a group."

You clear your throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Laura and I can take the pull-out bed," you offer, trying to find a solution that works for everyone. "It's no problem, really."

Jo's eyes light up, and she grins wickedly. "Oh, I'm sure it won't be a problem at all. And if you're ever inspired to do some pulling out on the pull-out after putting it in, I won't mind. In fact, I encourage it. Live your best lives, you crazy kids."

Amy swats at Jo's arm, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's antics. "I already told you, behave!" Jo leans in close to Amy, her voice dropping to a husky purr. "Yes, dear."

Laura rolls her eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jo. We're here to relax and enjoy each other's company, not to put on a show for you two."

Amy, sensing the need for a change of subject, quickly interjects. "Why don't we start getting dinner ready? I'm starving after all that time at the beach, and I'm sure everyone else is too."

Jo's face lights up, and she snaps her fingers. "Great idea, babe! But first, dibs on the shower! Gotta wash off all this beach grime." She darts toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as she goes, leaving a trail of discarded garments in her wake.

The three of you exchange amused glances. With a shrug, you move to the kitchenette, ready to tackle the task of preparing a meal for four.

As you begin to unpack the groceries you brought, divvying up tasks to make a simple pasta dish and a side of roasted vegetables, you fall into a comfortable rhythm. The sound of chopping, the clanging of pots and pans, and the sizzle of oil in a skillet fill the small space, creating a homey atmosphere.

Amy glances over at you, curiosity sparkling in her eyes as she pitches pasta into boiling water. "So, I never asked, how did you two meet?" she asks, gesturing between you and Laura with a wooden spoon. "I don't think I've ever heard the story."

"We actually met through the buddy match program," you say. “Laura was my assigned buddy, and we just clicked right away."

Laura looks up from the vegetables she's chopping, her eyes meeting yours across the small kitchen. "Yeah, I remember being so nervous about the whole thing.”

Amy's eyebrows rise in surprise, a smile tugging at her lips. "They still have that program? I did it too when I was a freshman." Amy chuckles, shaking her head as she looks down in recollection. "Oh, you were definitely luckier than I was," she says, turning to Laura. "I got paired with this horrible girl, a totally pompous rich kid who thought she was God's gift to the world."

Affecting an airheaded accent and a haughty expression, Amy mimics her former buddy. "'Oh my god, Amy, your hair is like, so flat. But like, you can totally fix it. I’ll set you up with my hair guy and he’ll fill you in. Honestly it is really nice hair, just what you’ve done with it has not done you any favors. But if you really must deal with it right away, I can show you how to work a curling iron.'" She flips her short blonde hair over her shoulder, her nose turned up in an exaggerated sneer. "'And please, you’re too cute to wear those shoes with that top. You’ll never attract an upperclassman guy dressed like that." You and Laura both laugh at Amy’s impression. It’s bizarre to see her affect an airhead persona; so antithetical to her usual reserved demeanor.

“You know,” Amy says reflectively, “she never even bothered to ask if I even liked boys. Ah, she would have been in for a surprise.”

"Well, I definitely lucked out with this one," Laura says, bumping her hip against yours playfully. "He may not know much about fashion, but at least he's not a total snob."

"Hey, I resent that!" you protest, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm very fashionable. I just prefer comfort over style."

Laura rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Just as Laura opens her mouth to launch into the story of your first hike together, the bathroom door swings open with a dramatic flourish. Jo emerges, completely naked and still glistening from the shower, her red hair darkened to a deep auburn by the water.

"Ahhh, much better!" Jo sighs contentedly, stretching her arms above her head. The movement causes her ample breasts to bounce, droplets of water cascading down her stomach. "Nothing like a hot shower to wash the sand out of your ass cra—"

Her words trail off as she takes in the shocked expressions on her friends' faces. Laura’s eyes widen, her gaze darting away as a furious blush creeps up her cheeks. Amy’s mouth hangs open for a moment, her hand frozen mid-chop, before she manages to regain her composure.

You, on the other hand, find yourself struggling to keep your eyes from wandering over Jo's curvaceous form. It's not as if your heart doesn’t belong wholly to Laura – but it's hard not to appreciate the beauty of the female form, especially when it's so… on display.

Jo, however, seems entirely unfazed by the reactions she’s garnered. A smirk plays at the corners of her lips as she places a hand on her hip, a posture of brazen confidence bordering on arrogance.

"What?" she asks, her tone dripping with amusement. "Don't tell me you're all scandalized by a little nudity! We were just letting it all hang out at the beach not even an hour ago!"

Amy clears her throat, her eyes on Jo as she stirs the pasta. "Yes, but that was at a nude beach, Jo. Not in the middle of the kitchen while we're trying to cook dinner." Her tone betrays embarrassment, but there's something else too, a deeper frustration.

Jo throws her head back, her laughter ringing through the cabin like a peal of thunder. "Pfft, same difference!" she declares, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm just embracing the au naturel lifestyle, my friends. You should try it sometime, it's liberating!" She spins around, droplets of water flying off her skin and spattering against the worn wooden floorboards.

Laura reaches for a dish towel and tosses it in Jo's direction, her aim true despite the laughter shaking her shoulders. "How about you 'embrace' putting on some clothes before you drip all over the floor and make a mess?"

Jo catches the towel with a flourish, draping it over one of her ample breasts. She strikes a pose, one hand on her hip, the other raised in a dramatic gesture. "There, I am clothed! Right proper," she declares in a terrible British accent. "Happy now, you prudes?"

With a wink and a sway of her hips, Jo saunters off toward her suitcase to look for real clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake.

As the sound of Jo rummaging through her suitcase filters out from next to the bed, you keep your eyes firmly focused on the task at hand. Amy turns back to Laura, her curiosity rekindled. "So, you were saying about your first hike together before we were so chestily interrupted?"

Laura smiles, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she recalls the memory. "Oh, right! So, it was our first official buddy outing, and he invited me on a hike..."

You lean against the counter, content to listen as Laura launches into the story, her voice animated with excitement. As she describes the trail, the views, the way you both opened up to each other as you walked, you can't help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest. You never tire of hearing about that day from her perspective. Notably, Laura fails to mention the skinny-dipping when recounting the story to Amy.

Soon enough the cooking tasks are mostly complete, and Amy wanders off to go unpack. You join Laura at the stove, stirring the simmering pot of sauce. "Smells delicious," you say as you wrap a hand around her waist. Laura bumps her hip against yours playfully. "Thanks, but it's not just the sauce that smells good," she says, giving you a look.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Oh, really?" you ask.

"Mhm," Laura hums, leaning in closer. "There's just something about the scent of a man who's been at the beach all day. Salty, sunkissed, and irresistible."

She gives you a look that sets you on fire. You lean in to whisper in her ear. “You know–”

"Hey, lovebirds!" Jo's voice cuts through the moment. She's finally dressed, lounging in a pair of cut-off shorts and a loose tank top that does little to conceal her ample curves. "Less flirting, more cooking! I'm starving over here!"

Laura rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, chef!" she replies, giving you a conspiratorial wink before turning back to the stove. She gives the sauce a final stir, the rich aroma of garlic and herbs filling the small kitchen.

You step back, allowing Laura to work her culinary magic. Jo sidles up beside you, her elbow nudging your ribs. "It smells good, doesn't it?" she says, her voice low and teasing. Before you can decipher what the hidden suggestive message in Jo’s words might be, Amy emerges from the bathroom, her hair slightly damp from a quick shower.

"Okay, now I’m seriously hungry," she says, inhaling deeply. Please tell me it's ready; I'm famished."

Laura grins, giving the pasta a final toss. "Perfect timing," she declares, reaching for a stack of mismatched plates. "Dinner is served!"

The four of you settle around the small table, passing dishes and filling your plates with steaming pasta and crisp, vibrant vegetables. You fall back into your easy banter, teasing and laughing between bites of food.

As you twirl a forkful of pasta, savoring the burst of flavors on your tongue, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Amy, however, seems distracted, her gaze distant as she picks at her food. After a few moments of contemplative silence, she clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"So, Laura," she begins, her tone carefully casual. "I remember you did the long-distance thing with our token man here," she nods in your direction, "when you went to France for a semester. How was that?"

You, privy to Amy's grad school news, suddenly understand her real reason for asking. You try to catch her eye, to silently communicate your support, but she studiously avoids your gaze, her focus remaining on Laura.

Laura, oblivious to the subtext, swallows a mouthful of pasta before launching in with gusto. "Oh god, it was so hard," she groans, her fork clattering against her plate as she gesticulates. "The time difference, the missed calls, the constant feeling of being out of sync. We almost broke up over it!"

Amy's face falls, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. You feel a pang of sympathy for her, knowing the weight of the decision she's grappling with. But neither Laura nor Jo notice.

Jo chimes in. "Totally!" she exclaims, pointing her fork in your direction. "Oh man, you should have seen this guy. He was all mopey and pining for you, Laura. And remember that huge fight you guys had? It sucked having to deal with his lovesick ass!" She points an accusing finger at Laura as she stands up to get the parmesean. “Deserter!”

Laura apes biting at the finger, which Jo retracts in haste.

You try to interject, to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. "It wasn't all bad," you insist, reaching across the table to take Laura's hand. "We got there in the end, didn't we? And we had that great romantic reunion in Paris, remember?"

Laura's face softens, a smile tugging at her lips as she squeezes your hand. "Yeah, that was pretty amazing," she concedes, her eyes sparkling with the memory.

But your words seem to have the opposite effect on Jo, only spurring her to amp up her commiseration. "Sure, you made it work eventually," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "But like, barely."

Laura sighs, her shoulders sagging. "It was hard," she admits, her gaze meeting yours. "Even after we settled everything, it was still a challenge. The distance, the loneliness... I'm just so glad to be back with you now, to be able to hold you and kiss you whenever I want."

Jo nods sagely, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "Amen to that," she says, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Long distance is the worst. Not everyone can get lucky and fly out to Paris to deliver an emergency dicking down and save the day!"

Laura bursts out laughing at Jo's crass remark, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle her giggles. But across the table, Amy grows increasingly quiet, pushing her food around her plate as she listens to the others recount the perils of long-distance love.

You, noticing her withdrawal, try once more to salvage the conversation. "Hey, every relationship is different, though," you point out, your tone gentle but firm. "What's hard for one couple might be totally manageable for another. It's all about communication and commitment, right?"

But your words seem to fall on deaf ears, drowned out by Jo and Laura's animated back-and-forth. They trade stories of missed Skype dates and tearful phone calls, of the ache of missing someone so fiercely it feels like a physical pain.

Amy remains silent, her brow furrowed with worry as she absorbs their tales of woe. You can practically see the gears turning in her head, the doubts and fears taking root.

You wish there was more you could do, some way to reassure her that long distance doesn't have to be a death knell for a relationship. But as Laura and Jo chatter away, you’re left worried for Amy and the decision she’ll have to make.