Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

CAMP

E nvironmental science was a weird field to specialize in, and not just in the way everyone thought. And I know what you’re thinking. Camp, you sacrificed a pipeline, that’s not environmental science. It’s eco-terrorism. Listen, to each their own, okay? You do you, and I’ll do me.

Let me try and put it in a way you’d be able to understand.

The concept of being reliant on other people is drilled into us from a young age. “It takes a village” to raise a child, and we don’t have to do everything alone—even though most of us try to be self-sufficient anyway. Humans were stubborn like that.

We’re supposed to work in teams as children at school, and then again as adults. Managers were no longer managers, but leaders. Team players. Participation trophies for everyone.

We’d built a society that rotates around the concept that everyone needs someone else. Marriage, a family, a work family, an extended family, twelve bridesmaids, and inviting your neighbors over for dinner.

But the earth, see, the earth does things differently. The strongest predators were those who weren’t reliant on someone else protecting them. They weren’t waiting for their food to be given to them on a silver plate. I’d never seen a lion sidling up to an elephant and asking them to watch their cub, so they can focus on getting their promotion. I’d never seen a hippo ask a crocodile for help.

Poison ivy didn’t need special soil to grow.

White oleander never cried for rain.

Being in debt to Scarlett rubbed me the wrong way, because now I was reliant on her. I owed her something. Not only had she saved my ass and got me on the damn boat in the first place, she championed for me to stay on said boat.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Scarlett. If anything, the opposite was true. She was a goddess made of flesh, everything good about our forsaken planet wrapped up into one bright smile, smooth limbs, and thick hair I wanted to tangle my hands in. All of which was beside the point. Yes, I wanted this girl. More than I’d wanted anyone for a long time.

It made me reliant on more than one count. I didn’t like the way the feeling settled in my belly, creeping out with long tendrils of want and desire through my bloodstream.

I wasn’t a reliant person. I simply had to prove it to both myself and her.

Which was how I found myself in front of Scarlett’s room. I heard her close her door—not that I was listening—a couple minutes ago, so I knew she was inside.

My hand was outstretched, fist made, ready to knock. This was the plan. Knock, first. Then say thank you, and explain myself when she answered the door. She would be gracious, but distant, and then I would leave, debt paid, no longer reliant on any one person. Easy.

Except for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to knock on her door. My hand gave the slightest tremble, and I clenched my fist tighter, my jaw following suit.

Knock. Say thank you. Leave.

And yet I l couldn’t convince myself to make contact with her door.

“Shake it off, Hart. Pull yourself together, man,” I muttered to myself. This was ridiculous. I could build a bomb out of spare parts and set it off without blinking. But I was frozen over the prospect of speaking to a random woman I just met.

Perfect. This was exactly the situation I’d hoped to be in when I woke up this morning.

I sighed, closing my eyes. The manufactured gratitude was going to have to wait. As much as I wanted to force my body to do what I wanted it to do, giving gratitude wouldn’t be genuine, and I’d just be back in this situation tomorrow.

Just as I pulled my hand away, Scarlett’s door swung open. Her mouth dropped open into a quick “o” before she recovered, gifting me one of her perfect smiles. “Camp. Is everything okay?”

I jammed my hand into my pocket, hoping I looked more casual than I felt.

“Of course it is.”

She cocked her head to the side, her brows crinkling. “So, you’re just standing outside my door because…?”

I laughed, trying to cover up the nerves twitching my hand in my pocket. She was just a woman. One woman .

Which was bullshit, and I knew it. She wasn’t just a woman.

“Well, I actually just wanted to say thank you. I owe you one. Two, technically. You…you didn’t have to go to bat for me like that.”

Scarlett leaned against her door frame, looking up at me through dark lashes. “You really don’t need to thank me. You already have. But, really, I was just doing what I hoped anyone would do for me.”

Somewhere, behind the chemical composition of a bomb and endless years of schooling building up my brain, what she was saying made complete sense. But my heart still screamed reliant at me.

Reliant.

Reliant.

Reliant.

Reliancy was complacency, and complacency was dangerous.

Ergo, Scarlett was dangerous.

She shifted her weight to her other foot, popping her full hip out while she waited for me to respond.

I swallowed hard, following the curve of her body, down through her close-fitting pants, the muscular thighs I imagined beneath, finally dragging my eyes back up to meet her smirk.

She was just a woman.

Didn’t stop me from resting my hand on her door frame and leaning into her personal space, her scent of jasmine and vanilla far too alluring.

She was just a woman.

It didn’t stop me from meeting her gaze, daring her to be the first to look away, noting the way she subconsciously licked her lips.

I smiled, apex predator once more. This was a situation I could read. “I don’t think anyone has ever done anything like that for me before. So when I say I owe you one, I mean it.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again, a nervous habit I wasn’t even sure she was aware of. “I’m sure someone has before. Your mom, maybe. Or your best friend.”

I shook my head, unwilling to take my gaze away. “No one. My parents realized I could handle myself pretty young and left me alone. As for a best friend…” I trailed off with a shrug, the words unspoken lingering on my tongue. Friends were a liability.

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.”

“Truth.” Scarlett’s voice was soft, but strong. Another contradiction. Maybe I needed a notebook of my own to keep track of everything about her.

“What was the first mistake you ever made?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking out the window where the sun was beginning to set over the dense foliage surrounding us, turning the deep greens to black. “When I was fourteen, I stole a bracelet from the mall. I really wanted this bracelet, but buying it wasn’t an option. I think it was the first time in my life I thought to myself, ‘why not me?’ Why shouldn’t I have nice things, too? So I took it. And I never felt sorry about it. Not once. So to answer your question, that was my first mistake, but I’m not sure if I would even call it a mistake.”

I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting her to confess, but it wasn’t that. When she turned around to face me again, a fire blazed in her blue gaze, sharp and poignant, searing my soul where it touched me. “What was your biggest mistake?”

When she smiled this close to me, it was hard for me to think straight. Hadn’t I come here to stop thinking about her? I had a reason. Reliant . I had been reliant.

I couldn’t remember why being reliant was a bad thing. Not right now, not when she smelled like vanilla and jasmine, and she was smiling at me like that . I’d be reliant for the rest of my life to see her look at me like that. This must be what Icarus felt like flying too close to the sun, knowing his doom was imminent, but not caring because who else could say they’d been this close to something untouchable?

“I think it’s my turn, isn’t it? It’s been a while since I played the game, but I think I remember that being a rule.” She tapped my hand, and I was certain if I looked down, I’d see a scorch mark where her finger rested. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” I was an open book. Nothing to hide.

So why did my heart stammer when she looked at me, really looked at me, as if she could see past the cool exterior that kept people at a safe distance?

Why did my thoughts drift to everything I had once been proud of, wondering if she would see it the same way?

Why did I begin to wonder who the real apex predator in the room was?

Icarus had flown too close to the sun, and for the first time, I wondered if he’d been lured there by a siren disguised as a dream.

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