Showing his palms to Nikita, Blair gave his eyes a quick roll. "Dude, I don't know. I barely know you. For all I know you were
sneaking out to gamble or score drugs or something even worse."
"What I really did does not count as something even worse to you?" Nikita inquired, tilting his chin.
"That's not what I meant." "So it is worse?"
Frustrated by the needling questions, Blair shook his head.
"I don't fucking know what it is, man. I have not even begun to figure out how I feel about that."
A strange silence settled between them. After a moment, Nikita spoke
up:
"At least you're honest with me." Then, not long after:
"You think you can sleep soon?"
Now that the threat of hypothermia seemed to have diminished, Blair
didn't feel so sluggish. In fact, he was wide awake. Perhaps because of the shock—cold water and mortal terror. Perhaps because he didn't trust his roommate to not tear his throat out in his sleep.
