Under the Stars: A Camping Confession

Here's the thing about agreeing to share a tent with your best friend's newly single brother on a group camping trip: it sounds innocent enough until you're lying six inches apart in the dark, listening to him breathe, wondering if he can hear your heart trying to escape your chest.

My name's Drew. I'm twenty-nine, chronically single, and apparently incapable of saying no when my best friend Maya asks me for a favor. Even when that favor involves spending three days in the wilderness with her older brother Liam, who I've been secretly in love with since I was nineteen years old.

Ten years. Ten years of watching him date other people, hearing about his relationships through Maya, pretending I was happy for him. Ten years of telling myself to get over it because he was straight and I needed to move on.

Spoiler: I did not move on.

The camping trip was Maya's idea. A "reconnecting with nature" thing for her friend group, about eight of us in total, scattered across four tents in a campsite three hours from the city. Originally, Liam wasn't supposed to come. But his girlfriend had dumped him two weeks ago, and Maya didn't want him sitting alone in his apartment "spiraling," so she invited him last minute.

Which meant the tent arrangements had to be reshuffled. Which meant, somehow, I ended up as Liam's tentmate.

"You're the only one who doesn't have a partner coming," Maya explained on the phone, like this was a perfectly reasonable request. "And Liam's too big to share with anyone else. You're skinny. You'll fit."

"I'm not skinny. I'm lean."

"Whatever. Please? He needs this. He's been a mess since Rachel left."

I wanted to ask why she couldn't share with her own brother, but I knew the answer: she was bringing her boyfriend. And I was, as always, pathetically available.

"Fine. But if he snores, I'm sleeping in the car."

"You're the best. Love you."

Love you too, I thought. Even though you're basically torturing me.

🏕️ Pinewood Campground We arrived Friday afternoon. The campsite was beautiful, old-growth trees, a creek running nearby, the kind of views that make you understand why people become nature photographers. I'd been camping before, but never somewhere this remote. Cell service was nonexistent. The nearest town was forty minutes away. We were genuinely off the grid.

Liam was quieter than usual. I'd known him long enough to recognize the signs of heartbreak: the forced smiles, the way he disappeared into his own head mid-conversation, the beer he opened before the tents were even set up.

"Thanks for sharing with me," he said as we assembled our tent. His tent, technically, a nice four-person job that was definitely overkill for two people but at least meant we wouldn't be on top of each other. "I know it's awkward."

"It's not awkward."

"Drew. I'm your best friend's sad, recently dumped brother. It's at least a little awkward."

I laughed despite myself.

"Okay. Maybe a little. But it's fine. We've known each other for ten years. We can survive three nights in a tent."

"You sound confident."

"I'm faking it. Internally I'm panicking."

He grinned. The first real smile I'd seen from him all day.

"At least you're honest."

The first day was fine. We hiked as a group, ate burgers around the campfire, drank too much cheap beer. Liam seemed to relax as the day went on, the tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding. He sat next to me at dinner, our knees occasionally touching, and I tried very hard not to read anything into it.

By the time we crawled into the tent that night, I was exhausted enough that I thought I might actually be able to sleep without overthinking the situation.

I was wrong.

The tent was dark. Liam was on his back, his sleeping bag rustling as he tried to get comfortable. I was on my side, facing away from him, hyperaware of every inch of space between us.

"You awake?" His voice was quiet. Almost hesitant.

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you something weird?"

"How weird?"

"Medium weird."

"Go for it."

A pause. Then: "Why are you single?"

I turned over to face him, even though I couldn't see much in the darkness.

"That's your question?"

"You're a good guy. Funny. Nice. Good-looking, Maya's friends are always talking about how cute you are, by the way. So why hasn't anyone locked you down?"

I didn't know how to answer that. The honest answer, because I've been in love with you for a decade and no one else measures up, was obviously off the table.

"I don't know. Haven't found the right person, I guess."

"Have you been looking?"

"Sometimes. Not really. I've dated, but nothing ever sticks."

"Why not?"

"They're never... I don't know. There's always something missing."