Page 36 of Delirium

I pressed a hand onto his shoulder. “I know. But let me process it before I vocalize it.”

It was a strange thing, physical touch. I’d gone without it for so long, I assumed I was the kind of person who didn’t like it, or didn’t need it. Something I could easily do without. But now that I had Camp, standing in front of me, no real way to define what we were, I realized what the nice thing about touch was.

It was an anchor. Something physical, tying us to this world when everything else seemed lost.

Camp gave me a tiny smile. “You sociologists are all the same. Too much time in your brains, not enough time in the real world.”

I laughed, shaking off his grip so I could continue walking along the muddy path—if you could even call it a path. “I’m pretty sure all we do is focus on the real world. People are pretty real, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmm,” Camp muttered behind me. “Depends on who you ask. Haven’t you ever heard of the simulation theory? This could all be one big computer simulation, and none of us could be real.”

I rolled my eyes, holding back a tree branch that was sticking out into the middle of the narrowing path. “Of course I’ve heard of the simulation theory. How about you just focus on your formulas and I’ll focus on the real world?”

He laughed quietly, the sound almost completely concealed by my feet hitting the ground. I hadn’t yet heard him let go completely and laugh at full volume, but I had a feeling it was something I was going to like a lot when it happened.

The path wasdefinitelynarrowing. I wasn’t imagining it. The trail, once wide enough for Camp and I to walk side by side, had narrowed at some point during our hike, leaving barely enough room for me to duck through without the trees brushing my shoulders. I couldn’t see Nash ahead, but I was fairly certain it was him I heard slinking through the bush. Hopefully. Either I was right, or he was wrong, and there was a jaguar stalking me even though it was still daylight.

At least it would be a cool way to go out, right? A jaguar attack. The kind of story you see in the news. Not “Scarlett Ward died in her sleep at 98” but “Scarlett Ward died fighting off a jaguar on a riverboat expedition in the rainforest.”

One was definitely cooler than the other, but I needed to ignore the spiral of contemplating my own death for a moment at least.

“Nash?” I called.

“Just up here. Everyone keeping up okay?” His voice threw me off, unable to place exactly where it was coming from in the dense foliage. It could’ve been from anywhere, giving me a weird sense of vertigo.

Everything was too green.

I tramped through the rainforest, trying to catch up to Nash. The distance of his voice definitely had thrown me off, because it was barely anytime at all before I was stepping through another curtain of leaves and colliding with his broad back.

“There you are, darling,” Nash said with a laugh, spinning around so he could grab my arms. “It’s not that much further now. Ten minutes maybe. Hope you brought your swimsuit.”

I frowned up at him, trying to distract myself at how he seemed evenmoremuscular with his shirt on. Maybe the tightness of the thin material was just emphasizing what I already knew was there—hard-working, tanned muscles from long days on the boat. His words clicked in my brain.

“Swimsuit? Nash. You didn’t tell me I needed to bring my swimsuit.” I would’ve remembered if he told me to bring a swimsuit. I would’ve checked it off on my mental list, packing it in my bag along with the other things he said, like snacks and water and a hat.

He raised a brow, fighting a smile. “Darling, we’re going to a waterfall. Why wouldn’t you need a swimsuit? Scared of a little bit of water?”

“Um, because when I think of a waterfall, I’m thinking of something spilling over a massive cliff, and probably something that isn’t safe to swim in?” I immediately thought of those pools at the top of the massive cliff faces, where people swam close to the edge, toying with danger in a way I would never dream of. Thinking about it, it was probably what Nash planned to do. “Did you tell James and Camp to bring a swimsuit?”

Nash shrugged. “I thought I told Camp, but if you’re telling me I didn’t tell you then it’s anyone’s guess, really. And James is a lost cause. I don’t know if he even knowshowto have fun anymore.”

Fun. Of course Nash thought this wasfun, while my heart outpaced my thoughts by a million beats a second. “So like, how high up is this thing?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled. “Come on. It’s not that much further. I can’t wait to see your face when you see it.”

I couldn’t wait to see my face either, because my thoughts were giving me worst case scenario vibes.

When I didn’t move forward, Nash grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him. The same kind of electricity rippled through us, as it had before. We both blinked up at each other before Nash quickly pulled away.

“I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I know you and Camp are exploring things.” His mouth moved, and I could hear the words he said, but they weren’t exactly processing.

I was too busy focusing on the way my hand burned where he’d touched me, and the idea of him touching me at the same time as Camp.Both their hands on me… all over me…

“It’s okay,” I whispered, but so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard me.

Nash had already turned forward once more, but not quickly enough that I didn’t notice the flush spreading across his face. I wanted to rest my hand on his cheek, tell him it really was okay. That he hadn’t done anything wrong. But I wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, and Camp being directly behind us complicated things further.

Maybe I just needed to be content in knowing I could find human connection if I needed to, and focus less on the men aboard theCarpe Diem—James, included.

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