World Turned Upside Down

by Elyse Springer

  “It’s just—” He stopped suddenly, then started again. “When you talked about Midwinter last week, it got me thinking. And I was wondering if you’d—” A pause, and the blush deepened. “Well, I know you probably already have someone to go with, because you’re handsome and popular, but if you didn’t—maybe you’d want to go with me?” He rushed the last few words, his gaze meeting Simon’s own for a split second before darting away.

  It took Simon a moment to parse that.

  “You want to go to Midwinter dinner? With me?”

  Asher glanced up. “Yeah.”

  Asher Delaney invited me to Midwinter. What alternate universe am I living in, and how do I never leave it?

  Then the rest of Asher’s question caught up to him. “You think I’m popular?”

  “And handsome,” Asher said, bright red and fidgeting in his seat.

  Jesus. Simon was glad that he was already sitting down, because suddenly he felt completely off-balance, like the entire world had flipped around him.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again, words bubbling up behind his lips. There were so many things he wanted to say, but everything inside him was conflicting all at once. Asher thought he was handsome, thought he was popular. Only a few weeks before it had been Simon thinking those things about Asher. And while he hadn’t changed his mind about Asher being handsome—or just flat-out sexy as hell—Simon knew now that Asher wasn’t the popular, godlike man he’d fantasized about. But to think that Asher thought that way about him? It was blowing Simon’s mind.

  And Asher wanted to take Simon to Midwinter dinner as his date.

  No. Not a date. Simon put the mental brakes on that thought. He didn’t want to date anyone… period.

  Simon opened his mouth again, certain enough in that one realization.

  And then he looked at Asher… really looked at him, taking in the man sitting only a few feet away. Asher was just as gorgeous as always, but there was more to him than his appearance. He was sweet and kind and delightfully shy in a way that made everything he said and did feel more genuine.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  The words felt like a surprise, slipping past Simon’s lips, but he couldn’t find a shred of regret when Asher’s entire face lit up.

  “Really?” Asher asked.

  Simon laughed. “Yeah, really. I’d love to go to Midwinter with you. It’ll be fun.”

  He thought briefly about the bet and about how he might get Asher to his dorm room after the dinner was over. But he pushed the thought aside, a sliver of guilt in his stomach. The idea of spending time with Asher was honestly so much more appealing than thinking about all those fantasies that had gotten him through the first half of the season.

  “I can’t wait,” Asher said, blissfully unaware of Simon’s racing thoughts.

  “Me either,” Simon said, and smiled.

  SIMON HAD exactly one pair of slacks and one button-down shirt. He borrowed an iron from Erica, then spent longer than he cared to admit trying to get the wrinkled clothes to look like something that hadn’t spent the last eleven weeks at the bottom of his suitcase.

  This would be Simon’s third Midwinter feast… and this year, for the first time, he was going with a date.

  Not a date, he reminded himself. Just a friend. A friend who he still wanted to fuck, even if it wasn’t his top priority anymore.

  He’d been genuinely surprised when Asher had asked him the last week. Asher had been so nervous but so thrilled when Simon had said yes. The memory made Simon’s lips quirk up, even as he shook out his dress shirt and went back to ironing.

  The more he’d thought about it over the last few days, the more Simon had gotten excited. Maybe Asher’s nervousness was contagious, because Simon’s guts were in knots, which tightened with every minute that passed.

  He had a not-date, with the hottest man on the entire continent. It was totally fair to be freaking out about it, he reasoned.

  And if tonight went well, maybe they’d have sex. The thought was oddly nerve-racking. Simon set the iron down and wondered if he was about to throw up.

  It’s not a date, he repeated to himself for the tenth time. Still, he’d never gone to Midwinter with someone. Sleeping with Oli all of last season had been easy and fun, but they hadn’t even sat at the same table for Midwinter.

  So he panicked.

  Miranda found him half an hour later, standing in front of the mirror in his room. She let herself in with a perfunctory knock, caught sight of him, and said, “Oh, Si,” in a pitying voice.

  Simon ran his hands through his hair, obliterating any evidence of the mess he’d just been staring at. “I can’t get it to sit right. It’s awful. I’m awful. I’m hideous. Asher is never going to have sex with me, because I’m an absolute mess of a human being.”

  “And also your shirt is buttoned unevenly,” Miranda said. She was kind enough not to laugh, at least, but he could tell she had to strain herself to hide it. “Simon, sweetie, take a deep breath.”

  He did as he was told.

  “Okay, good. Now, let’s get you ready.”

  With Miranda taking charge, chaos quickly turned to order. She unbuttoned the shirt and did it back up properly, leaving the top button undone. “Where’s that necklace you wore to the bar a few weeks ago?” When he put it on, she nodded in satisfaction. “You look hot. Okay, let’s do your hair.”

  “You’re the best friend ever,” Simon proclaimed.

  She smiled at him. “And you’re a fantastic human being who is absolutely not a mess.” She brushed his hair into place, using a bit of gel to fix it. “Voila. You look utterly fuckable. Asher is going to ravish you right there on the dining hall table.”

  “Ugh. I hope not. I have to clean those tables.” But a glance in the mirror bolstered his confidence. He looked… good. Now he just had to hope Asher felt the same.

  Asher did not ravish him on the table, but he did sweep his gaze appreciatively over Simon’s body from head to toe. “You, uh, you look really nice,” he said, blushing.

  “And you look incredible.” Asher was wearing a pair of dark jeans, but he had a dress shirt and jacket over top, which hugged his shoulders. He’d shaved, too, and his hair looked extra shiny.

  “I borrowed one of the ladies’ hair products,” Asher whispered, when Simon mentioned it. “I’m going to smell like flowers for a week.”

  Simon inhaled. “I like it.”

  Asher blushed harder.

  Dinner was a literal feast. Chicken and turkey, duck and roast beef. Potatoes, pasta, and more side dishes than Simon could dream of. There were about a dozen different desserts, arranged in a tantalizing display.

  There was also—“Salad!” Asher sounded thrilled.

  It was the first fresh greens that they’d seen since April. “They must have been growing these in the hydroponics lab since winter started,” Simon said, taking his own serving. It wasn’t anything especially stunning by Real World standards, but the arugula and baby tomatoes definitely caused a stir among the winterover population.

  Even better than dinner, though, was spending time with Asher.

  If Simon had been worried that he and Asher might have nothing to talk about, however, he was proven wrong. Over pie and cake, Asher talked about some of the data he’d collected so far that winter, explaining it in a way that didn’t make Simon feel out of his depth. But his passion for his subject was what caught Simon’s eye, the way he was totally brilliant, but also sweet and charming.

  They talked a little about work and about station gossip. Asher had a handful of stories about the goings-on within the science building that Simon knew he’d have to relay to Oli later. And Asher seemed genuinely interested when Simon talked about how his online classes were going, and about some of the trips he’d gone on over the last few years in between seasons.

  Dinner ended naturally, people drifting away from tables in groups of two or three. Some detoured back to the buffet to grab plates of leftovers or b
owls of extra dessert to stash away for later. Simon leaned back in his chair, feeling full and happy and warm, and watched Asher across the table as he finished a glass of wine.

  “This was… really great.”

  Asher smiled. “It’s almost sad that it has to end.”

  Simon hesitated. “It doesn’t, you know. If you wanted to—” He swallowed, nerves taking up space in his stomach alongside dinner. “Would you want to come back to my room? We could keep talking for a bit.”

  Asher fumbled as he set his glass down. “I’d, uh. Yeah, I’d like that.” His smile was tentative now, but still looked genuine.

  He’s just as nervous as I am. Again, Simon realized, he had to peel back the fantasy to reveal the real Asher.

  Coats were pulled on, and they dashed from the main building over to the dorms, laughing as the icy air hit them. Winter might officially be halfway over, but Simon knew the coldest days were still ahead of them. Still, it was more than cold enough now, and he was relieved to be inside quickly enough.

  “This way.”

  He led Asher up a flight of stairs and down the hallways, pausing at his door. “It’s a little messy. I meant to clean, but, well.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “I was a bit of a disaster before dinner and ran out of time.”

  He opened the door and stepped aside for Asher to go in first.

  “I can’t imagine you being a disaster,” Asher said as he walked inside. “You seem so put-together, like you’re always confident and calm.”

  Simon laughed, following him in and closing the door. “I can assure you, I am the complete opposite of calm about 99 percent of the time.”

  He leaned against the door as Asher explored his space, a reversal of their first meeting when he’d gotten a chance to see Asher’s office. To an outsider his room probably looked like a strange collection of new and thrift-store comfort. He’d had years now to collect furniture and decorations that he liked, raiding the donation piles in the “skua” bins after all of the summer residents departed. A few posters were hung on the walls—pictures of trees and fields, sunshine, things he found himself missing at this point in the season—and an old squishy couch was pushed up against one wall.

  Asher would look really hot stretched out on that couch.

  “I like it,” Asher declared. “It looks… lived in. Like this is really your home.”

  “It feels like it, sometimes,” Simon admitted. “There’s a saying I hear sometimes: ‘First you come to Antarctica for the adventure. The second time you come back for the money. And then you keep coming back because you don’t fit in anywhere else.’”

  Asher laughed. “What if you never belonged anywhere else to start?”

  Simon shrugged and opened his arms. “Then I guess we just say, ‘Welcome home.’”

  No, he corrected himself. Not the couch. Fantasy Asher would fuck him over the armrest like something out of a porno… but he discovered that he couldn’t imagine Reality Asher doing anything of the sort.

  Simon pushed away from the door and kicked his shoes off, then grabbed a heavy quilted blanket and spread it on the floor. That’s better. “Hey, I want to show you something.”

  Asher was a mixture of hesitant and bemused as Simon moved around the room. He turned the lights down and flicked a lamp on in the corner.

  “Lay down,” Simon said, “and close your eyes.”

  With a small smile, Asher did as he was told.

  “Don’t open them yet.” Simon grabbed something from the shelf, then flicked another switch and quickly joined Asher on the blanket, lying on his side so he could watch Asher’s reaction. “Okay, you can look now.”

  Asher blinked his eyes open, green flecked with gold as they widened at the sight before him. “Oh, Simon. This is great!”

  The star nightlight had been an impulse purchase when Simon had been doing some last-minute shopping before his flight down to McMurdo. In the small dorm room, it worked perfectly, sending hundreds of tiny lights all over his walls and ceiling in mimicry of the sky outside. Only now they were warm and comfortable while the night sky was bright above them.

  “There’s one other thing.” Simon held out his hands. “I was saving these for a special occasion. I think tonight fits the bill.”

  Asher’s gasp this time was even louder. “How on earth did you get these?”

  Simon glanced down, resting his gaze on the two green apples he held. “The kitchen had a few left. Not enough to split among the entire station, though. I guess apples last pretty long, but these are definitely at the end of their life cycle so the head chef said I could have them.”

  “And you’d share them with me?”

  Simon set one down and used the knife he’d also brought over to slice the other open. The rich scent of tart fruit immediately filled the air between them. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with.”

  They split the apple into sliced wedges, taking turns eating them and spitting out the seeds while lying on their backs and staring up at the “sky” projected around them.

  When they were gone, Simon brought his hand up to lick the juice from his fingers. He heard a soft sound from beside him, and looked over to see Asher watching him, eyes dark and mouth parted ever so slightly.

  “Asher.” His voice was barely audible.

  As though in a trance, Asher reached out, slowly, and grasped Simon’s hand in his own. Then he pulled it toward himself, until Simon could feel Asher’s hot, shaky breaths against the palm of his hand.

  And then—

  “Asher.” Simon breathed the word, his entire universe narrowing down to the heat on his thumb as Asher wrapped his lips around the digit and gently sucked off the last of the juice.

  Without breaking eye contact, Asher moved to the next finger, and the next, wet heat and suction making Simon dizzy. He shuddered every time Asher’s tongue brushed against his skin until he was shaking all over.

  “Simon,” Asher said, pressing a kiss to the palm of Simon’s hand.

  “Please.”

  Asher leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed Simon—a sticky, sweet, tart kiss that was absolutely perfect.

  Kissing Asher was completely unlike any of Simon’s fantasies. He’d imagined Asher would be force and skill, tongue and teeth overwhelming Simon and consuming him. Instead, Asher’s kiss was lush and gentle. He sucked on Simon’s lower lip, ran his tongue over it until Simon sighed and parted his lips. Then Asher pushed forward, carefully, his powerful body shifting closer as he lowered Simon back against the blanket and leaned over him.

  This part, at least, was familiar from Simon’s fantasizing. Asher was so much larger than him that he could cover Simon entirely, throwing one leg over Simon’s and holding himself up with his arms. In the dimness of the room, Asher’s large frame was a shadow above him, outlined and backlit by thousands of stars.

  “Kiss me,” Simon begged.

  Asher didn’t make him wait. He lowered himself down until their chests brushed together, then licked his way back into Simon’s mouth, twining their tongues together. He kissed until Simon’s heart was racing and prickles of heat tingled across his entire body.

  It was almost a surprise for Simon to realize that he was hard. His dick was firming up in his dress pants, just from the weight of Asher above him and the slow, deep kisses that left his lips numb.

  Simon’s hips jerked upward involuntarily, seeking heat or pressure or anything. He found Asher’s hip and groaned into Asher’s mouth at the trace of sensation as his dick hardened further.

  Asher returned the sound, eyes fluttering shut briefly as his body shuddered. He shifted closer, enough for Simon to feel that Asher was hard, too, straining against his jeans.

  Yes. This is it. He’d been dreaming about sex with Asher for months, and now it was finally going to happen.

  Except—Asher groaned again, but this time it was frustrated, and he pulled away as the noise escaped him. Cold air rushed to fill the space he
’d left, and Simon shivered, lying flat against the ground and staring up in confusion.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Asher exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Yeah. I just…. Things were moving a little too fast, that’s all.”

  Too fast? Simon blinked. Things had been moving glacially slow, he would have said. Not that “slow” was a bad thing; Asher had more than proven that his slow, deep kisses were more decadent than the hectic, rushed press of lips in Simon’s fantasies.

  As though reading his mind, Asher shifted to the side to sit beside Simon’s sprawled-out form. He looked apologetic as he brushed his thumb over Simon’s swollen lips and quirked an amused smile when Simon parted his lips and teased it with his tongue.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just…. Tonight was so perfect, you know? It was really nice, and I enjoyed it a lot. But I think I need a little more time.”

  And Simon could respect that. It might not be his thing, but he wasn’t about to judge someone else for moving at different pace. And Asher was right about the evening. “It’s weird, but I’m honestly kind of happy you stopped,” he confessed. “This was the best Midwinter I’ve ever had, and I think it’s ended the best way it possibly could.”

  Asher smiled. He brushed his knuckles over Simon’s cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him one more time, a light press of lips that was more a thank-you than anything sexual.

  “I should get going,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, though?”

  Simon returned the smile. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.”

  July

  JULY BEGAN with two memorable occurrences.

  First, another storm came through, blowing mountains of icy snow against all of the buildings. Simon got voluntold into shoveling the morning after and was assigned to Crary with a shovel and half a dozen hand-warmers. A few minutes into the backbreaking work, he was joined by a mountain in a red coat. Asher smiled from beneath his goggles and dove in to help Simon out.

  The second thing that happened, tangentially related to the first, was that Simon realized he had actual, legit feelings for Asher.