Page 17 of Delirium

The crocodile was mostly a solitary creature. It didn’t need help taking down its prey.

Her eyes held mine, something indescribable in them. Was she feeling this heat between us?

Or was I making it all up?

“Well then, I’m honored to be the first. But I’m sure I won’t be the last.” Scarlett hesitated. “Did you, um, want to come inside?”

I spread my arms out across the frame above her. “I don’t want to impose if you’re busy.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Since we’d gotten on the boat, she’d undone the braids that hung down her back, and piled her dark hair up into a bun on top of her head, exposing more of her perfect neck, and the gentle divot just behind her ear I wanted to press my lips into.

“I was just going to find the storage room. Nash tucked some of my stuff in there, and I was just going to sort through it. But it can wait if you wanted to talk some more.” Scarlett stepped back, opening the door wider, an invitation I’d gladly accept.

“I won’t say no to getting to know you better, seeing as we’ll be together for a bit. Might as well see what makes you tick, roomie.” I stepped inside her room, nearly identical to mine except for the color of the bedding. A small built-in desk was tucked beneath the window, the single bed tidily made in a deep maroon shade.

I looked around, searching for clues to give me more insight into what made Scarlett, Scarlett. Her bags were already partially unpacked, textbooks and notebooks piled haphazardly against the wooden wall. If she brought extra clothes, I couldn’t see them. All I could see were books.

Beneath an overflowing notebook, I could just make out the corner of a biology textbook. “Biologist?” I asked.

She chewed on her lip, sitting down on the bed. “Sociologist, actually. I just finished my PhD.”

Science. Huh. Maybe we had more in common than I thought. “I was in chemistry, originally. Before I dropped out, that is. I had to do more than my fair share of sociology in my first year. Apparently, everyone has to do at least one social science, even those of us who are more interested in formulas than people.”

Scarlett ran her gaze over me, as if she was seeing me in a new light. “When you said your parents never did anything to protect you…”

“If you’re worried that I’m some kind of fucked up kid who makes bombs for a living because my parents neglected me, you’re very wrong.” I grinned, making sure she knew I meant it lightheartedly.

Everyone’s first instinct was always to assume my childhood was messed up. Fortunately, this was not the case. Unfortunately, I was just plain old messed up. No one to blame but my own faulty brain.

Scarlett flushed, an endearing shade of red lighting up her cheeks. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to imply…”

I waved off her concerns. “I’m teasing. It’s better this way, really. No one else to blame for my mistakes. Unfortunately for you, it means your sociology magic won’t work on me.”

“Do you make a lot of mistakes?” Her cheeks were still red, but her full lips twisted with humor. She patted the bed next to her. “You’re making me nervous standing in the doorway like that. Come sit down.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I plopped down next to her, enjoying the way the bed sagged beneath my weight, making Scarlett slide against me in a delicious way.

“I do make a lot of mistakes. Don’t you?” I cocked my head to the side, turning so we faced each other on the bed, thigh to thigh. “I mean, tell me to shove it if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure most people don’t end up on river cruises in the middle of butt fuck nowhere without messing up once or twice.”

She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face, and I fucking loved that I was the one to put it there. “Once or twice might be an underestimation.”

“Why, Scarlett, are you more of a bad girl than you’re letting on?” I leaned closer, orbiting her space.

Scarlett raised a brow in my direction. “I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

Touché. She definitely had more spice than she let on. Vanilla might have been her scent but not her flavor.

I liked this side of her.

“Truth or dare?” The question flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“I’m sorry?” We were close enough I could reach out and stroke her face now. I could tuck her hair behind her ear, the piece that had fallen forward again.

“Don’t tell me you’re a bad girl and you’ve never played truth or dare before.” I laughed, not missing the way her body absorbed the sound.

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Of course I’ve played truth or dare. I was just confused as to why you’re asking me right now.”

I bet her skin was as soft as anything. I bet my fingers would leave goosebumps if I trailed them down her arm. “You told me I had to find out for myself. This was always the best way in university, in my opinion.”

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