A Storm Trapped Me and My Seven Friends in a Cabin With Only One Bed

The crunch of gravel under my tires is the only sound for miles. I kill the engine and the silence that rushes in is absolute, broken only by the whisper of wind through the dense pines that wall us in. The cabin is exactly as the pictures showed: a stark, modern cube of glass and dark wood dropped into the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect. Secluded. Anonymous.

My stomach does a slow, heavy roll. It’s the same feeling I’ve had all week, a sickening, thrilling knot of anticipation. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white. We never spoke about it directly. We didn’t need to. It was in the lingering looks, the conversations that stopped just short of the real topic, the shared understanding that we all wanted something more. Something our normal lives, our normal partners, couldn’t give us. A space to be completely uninhibited, to explore the thoughts we only ever had in the darkest parts of our minds. No judgment. No strings. Just pure, physical honesty.

I take a deep breath, the crisp, cool air doing nothing to calm the heat building low in my belly. This is it. The point of no return. My hand trembles slightly as I push the car door open and step out onto the path. Each footstep toward the front door feels momentous, a final commitment to the weekend, to them.

The door swings open before I can even knock. Aaron stands there, a lazy grin on his face that doesn't quite hide the intensity in his eyes. He’s leaning against the doorframe, all casual confidence in a simple t-shirt that does little to hide the hard lines of his chest and arms.

“Tracey. You made it,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Behind him, Sofie appears, her bright smile a stark contrast to the charged energy coming off Aaron. She glides forward and wraps me in a hug that lasts a fraction of a second too long, her body warm and soft against mine. “We were starting to worry,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear.

I pull back, my own smile feeling tight on my face. “Never.”

Aaron’s eyes rake over me, a quick, appreciative inventory that makes my skin prickle. He steps aside, holding the door open wider. “Come on in. You’re the first one.”

The lie is so easy, so practiced. We both know he and Sofie arrived together an hour ago. The unspoken rules are already in play. As I step over the threshold, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind me, the sound is like a lock turning. The outside world is gone. There’s only this house, this weekend, and the promises hanging unspoken in the air between us. The knot in my stomach tightens, but now it’s pure, thrilling certainty. This was going to happen.

Before I can answer, headlights slice through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the room in white light. One set of lights, then another. The rest of them. Aaron opens the door again, and the night air rushes in, carrying the scent of rain.

Jariel is the first one through the door. My breath catches. He’s taller than I remember, broader in the shoulders, his dark hair damp from the humid air. His eyes, intense and dark, scan the room and land on me instantly. It’s like a physical touch, that look. He bypasses Aaron and Sofie and comes straight to me.

“Tracey,” he says, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my chest. He doesn't hug me. Instead, he takes my hand, his thumb stroking slowly over my pulse point. His gaze drops to my mouth for a second before meeting my eyes again. “Glad you came.” The words are simple, but the meaning behind them is anything but. The heat from his hand seeps directly into my blood, a slow burn that spreads through my entire body. He releases me and turns to grab a beer from the cooler, but I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Bridie and Jess tumble in next, a whirlwind of laughter and energy. They’re attached at the hip, as always, but in a way that feels inclusive rather than exclusive. Bridie, with her wild red curls, immediately drapes an arm around Aaron’s shoulders, her painted nails tracing a pattern on his collarbone as she talks. Jess watches her, a possessive but amused smile on her face, before her eyes drift over to Sofie, lingering there with open appreciation. Their boundaries aren't just fluid; they're non-existent. They radiate an energy that says everyone is fair game.

Last are Hailey and Helina. They slip in almost unnoticed, quiet and watchful. They are the group's anchors, the silent observers who see everything. Hailey gives a small, shy wave, while Helina offers a tight, knowing smile. They don’t say much, just find a spot on the oversized sofa, their presence a steady, humming counterpoint to the more overt energy filling the room.

We all settle with drinks, the conversation floating on the surface. We talk about the drive, about work, about the ridiculous architecture of the cabin. But no one is listening to the words. I’m acutely aware of every subtle shift in the room. I watch Aaron’s hand rest on the back of the couch, his fingers inches from Sofie’s neck. I see the way Jess’s knee is pressed firmly against Bridie’s, and how Bridie leans into it, her gaze fixed on Jariel as he talks. And I feel Jariel’s eyes on me from across the room, a constant, heavy pressure that makes it hard to breathe. The air is thick with it, the real conversation happening in glances and near-touches, a silent, collective agreement to let the tension build until it has nowhere left to go but to break.

The first crack of thunder is so loud it shakes the glass in the walls. A flash of lightning illuminates the woods in a stark, skeletal white, and a split second later, the sky opens up. Rain doesn't fall; it attacks, hammering against the roof and windows in a deafening, solid sheet. Another thunderclap rolls directly overhead, and the lights flicker once, twice, then die completely.

We’re plunged into absolute blackness.

For a beat, no one moves. The only sounds are the roar of the storm and our collective breathing, suddenly loud in the small space. I can’t see anything, but I can feel the energy in the room shift, condensing into something thick and heavy. The pretense of a normal friendly gathering is gone, stripped away with the electricity. We are eight people, trapped by a storm, in the dark.

“Well, shit,” Jess says, her voice laced with amusement.

A small flame sparks to life near the fireplace. It’s Aaron, holding a lighter to a row of thick pillar candles on the mantel. The warm, flickering light pushes back the oppressive darkness, casting long, dancing shadows that make the room feel both smaller and more intimate. One by one, our faces are revealed in the golden glow. Everyone is watching everyone else.

Aaron straightens up, dusting his hands on his jeans. He lets the silence stretch out, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, I have some news,” he says, his voice casual, but his eyes are burning with intent. He looks around the room, making eye contact with each of us. “There seems to have been a little mix-up with the booking.”

He pauses, letting the words hang in the air. Jariel leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his focus entirely on Aaron.

“The other bedrooms,” Aaron continues, gesturing vaguely towards the back of the cabin, “are apparently having some issues with the new skylights. As in, they’re leaking. A lot.” He lets out a low chuckle. “So, with the storm, they’re basically unusable.”

A heavy silence falls over the room, charged and waiting. This is it. The catalyst. I feel my heart start to beat a hard, fast rhythm against my ribs. My whole body is thrumming.

Aaron’s grin widens. He moves to the center of the room, the candlelight catching the sharp planes of his face. “But,” he says, drawing the word out, “the master suite is fine. And it has one of those ridiculously huge, custom-built beds. The kind that could probably sleep all of us.”

The suggestion lands in the center of the room like a physical object. It’s not a question. It’s an offer. A clear, blatant invitation to finally cross the line we’ve all been toeing for months. My breath catches in my throat. I look at Jariel, and his dark eyes are already on me, pupils blown wide, a raw hunger in them that mirrors the feeling clawing its way up my own throat. I tear my gaze away and look around the circle. Bridie is biting her lower lip, her eyes gleaming as she looks from Jess to Aaron. Sofie has a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face. Even Hailey and Helina, in the corner, have lost their quiet composure; their faces are flushed, their eyes bright with an unmistakable anticipation.

A jolt of pure, undiluted excitement shoots through me, hot and sharp. The unspoken has been spoken. In the flickering candlelight, I see the shared, knowing smiles pass between all of us. The game has just begun.