He turns abruptly, hiding his face. My breath sputters.
Oh God. Was Jason Larvik—no. No way.
Was heself-caringin the jungle?
Jason wades into the water beside me. My nostrils flare instinctively, and he immediately steps further away. His cheeks are even redder.
Is he washing off?
No. It doesn’t matter. And even if hewas, he wouldn’t be thinking aboutme.
He splashes water over his face.
“You should have brought sunscreen with you.”
“I didn’t plan—” He stops.
Fuck.
“You didn’t plan to go on a jet ski, did you?”
“No,” he admits.
I grimace. “It’s because I followed you. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t followed you.”
“It’s not important,” Jason says, his gaze bouncing everywhere but on me.
I get it. My body looks nothing like his.
“I’m going to go to try to build a shelter,” he blurts.
“You think we’ll be here long enough to need one?”
He doesn’t answer.
I swallow back sudden bile. No one has come to rescue us.
“Can I help?” I ask.
He shakes his head hastily. “Nope.” He gestures to me. “You... enjoy.”
Then he bolts like the idea of help physically offends him.
I stare after him, the water now colder against my skin. He’s so capable. He’s building things. Fixing things. Providing.
And I... what? Lounge?
I don’t even swim.
I look at the fish.
Fire.
We need fire.
I need to contribute.
I drag myself out of the water and start collecting wood—damp, so clearly it rains sometimes, but salvageable. I haul the pile to the beach and drop it down. Then I dig through the sand for rocks—not the ones Jason uses to open coconuts.
