Chapter 110 Morning After
Alex: POV
I woke with a start, disoriented and confused. The pre-dawn desert air was freezing against my bare skin—wait, bare skin?
My eyes flew open as awareness hit me like a freight train. I was completely naked, lying next to an equally naked Daniel. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
The events of last night came rushing back in fragments—wine around the campfire, singing together, Daniel helping me to his tent because I was too drunk to walk straight. And then... oh God.
My heart pounded as I carefully shifted to look at Daniel. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling peacefully. The early gray light filtering through the tent revealed what looked like hickeys scattered across his neck and collarbone. I glanced down at my own chest to find similar marks.
Jesus Christ. This wasn't a dream. This really happened.
I slid out of the sleeping bag with painstaking slowness, desperate not to wake Daniel. Each movement felt like defusing a bomb. Once free, I frantically grabbed my scattered clothes, pulling them on with trembling hands.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered under my breath. "What the hell were you thinking?"
The answer was obvious: I hadn't been thinking. I'd been drunk. That had to be it. The wine, the atmosphere, the emotional intensity of our last night in the desert—it had all conspired against my better judgment.
I needed to get out of here. Now. Before Daniel woke up. Before I had to face him and whatever this meant.
Fully dressed, I took one last look at Daniel's sleeping form. Something twisted in my gut—not quite regret, not quite something else I couldn't name. I quietly zipped the tent closed behind me and headed straight for Jack's tent, where I knew he kept the satellite phone.
"Emergency call," I explained when he groggily handed it over. "Family issue."
Ten minutes later, I had arranged for an early extraction from the expedition. A Jeep would meet me at a checkpoint three miles east in two hours. Just enough time to pack my stuff and hike out before everyone else woke up.
I left a vague note for Jack explaining a family emergency, packed my bag, and slipped away from camp as the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon.
---
The flight back to San Francisco gave me six hours of uninterrupted panic. The guy next to me had taken one look at my face and wisely decided not to attempt small talk. Now I sat with my forehead pressed against the cool window, watching clouds roll by as I spiraled through what the hell had happened.
I'd had sex with my best friend. A guy. I, Alex Hamilton, certified straight man, had slept with another man.
No, not just any man. Daniel. My best friend since college. The guy who'd confessed he'd been in love with me for years. The guy I'd literally fled to the desert to avoid.
And somehow I'd ended up naked in his sleeping bag.
"Can I get you anything?" The flight attendant's question jolted me out of my thoughts.
"Uh, whiskey. Double." I said.
When the drink came, I took a long swallow, letting the burn distract me from the memory of Daniel's hands on my skin.
Maybe I'd dreamed it? Maybe we'd both gotten drunk and just passed out naked for some reason? But no, the marks on my body told a different story. This had been real.
I closed my eyes, trying to piece together exactly what had happened. Last night had been our final evening in the desert. Daniel had cooked an amazing meal. Everyone had been drinking. I remembered singing around the campfire, feeling freer than I had in years. Then Daniel helping me to his tent...
And then... I thought I'd been dreaming. In my dream, something bizarre had happened—I'd somehow transformed into a woman. Dream-Daniel had slowly undressed me, his hands gentle but confident as they explored my newly feminine body. He'd left kisses down my neck, across my breasts, each touch sending shivers through me. I remembered feeling both strange and incredibly aroused, waiting for him to enter me.
But then the dream had shifted. Suddenly Daniel was the woman, and I was myself again. I'd flipped our positions, taking control, worried about pain but driven by an overwhelming desire. I'd lost myself in the sensation, in the tight heat, in Daniel's encouraging words...
"Jesus," I muttered, downing the rest of my whiskey. That hadn't been a dream. That had been a bizarrely distorted memory of what actually happened.
The alcohol had obviously messed with my head. I'd watched some weird anime once—where a guy's male friend had transformed into a girl, and they'd... well, explored the situation. It had been strangely hot, though I'd never admitted that to anyone.
But this was different. This was real life. I hadn't magically become a woman. I'd been myself, and Daniel had been himself, and we'd had sex.
And the worst part? I'd been the one who flipped him over. I'd been the one who took charge. What did that say about me?
"I'm not gay," I whispered to myself, earning a side-glance from my seatmate. "I'm not."
I'd always liked women. Dated women. Been attracted to women. This was... this was just a drunken mistake. A weird anomaly. It didn't mean anything.
But what would I tell Daniel? "Sorry, bro, I thought I was dreaming that I was a chick and you were fucking me, but then I realized I was still me, but by then I was too into it to stop"?
He'd think I was insane. Or worse, he'd think this meant something. That his feelings were reciprocated.
Were they? No. Absolutely not. I'd panicked and fled to the desert when he told me how he felt. That wasn't the reaction of a man in love.
And yet... I'd ended up in his bed. What kind of mixed signals was I sending?
God, I was a mess. I'd have to talk to him eventually. Tell him it was a mistake. That I was straight. That I'd been too drunk to know what I was doing.
I, Alex Hamilton, straight guy, had fucked my best friend. The realization kept hitting me like waves, each one leaving me more disoriented than the last.
"Sir, we're beginning our descent into San Francisco. Please return your seat to the upright position."
I blinked, surprised. Had we been flying that long? I'd been so lost in my thoughts I hadn't even noticed the captain's announcements or the meal service.
The plane descended through the fog, the familiar gray blanket of San Francisco welcoming me back to reality. As we touched down, I felt a resolve forming. This had been a mistake. A weird, drunken, desert-induced mistake. It didn't change who I was.
When I stepped off the plane into the terminal, I made my decision. I was still straight. I still liked women. I would apologize to Daniel, find some way to make it up to him that didn't involve my body, and we would move past this.