Chapter Twelve
Mathieu
“He’s been a dick to Jules since the second he arrived.” Cillian rubs a hand over his face in frustration.
“I didn’t realise Darren was so…” I throw up my hands. “He seemed nice when he and Jules were dating. I understand being upset after getting dumped, but his behaviour is not okay.”
“Jules said Darren was the one who broke up with him.”
I frown at Cillian, expecting to see an embarrassed smile after making such a poorly timed joke. I find serious eyes instead. “No. Really? Really?”
“You didn’t know?”
“It’s rude to ask something like that outright! I realised at the club that they had broken up, and I obviously assumed that Jules broke up with him! Jules is very—very—”
“Very,” Cillian agrees.
I narrow my eyes, but Cillian’s tone isn’t goading. It’s honest agreement. I wasn’t wrong about the shine Cillian has taken to Jules. Relief flutters in my stomach. “You have good taste. Did you get hard when he hugged you?”
Cillian’s eyes widen. “No.”
“I’ve never heard a no sound so much like a guilty yes. He kissed my neck the other night,” I say, forlorn. Ahead, Jules is angled towards Seán as the two talk. His shirt is hanging off his frame, wrinkled, and his shorts cling to his thighs. “I have wanted to climb on top of him since.”
“I—you—he’s injured. You’re not allowed to do anything while—”
“I am not stupid. And I’m not blind.”
Cillian blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What a lovely, comforting back rub you were giving,” I say, nice and light and teasing. “Are you going to be giving those to everyone? Part of the island survival experience? I’ll let everyone know, and we can all form an orderly line—”
Cillian bumps me. I bump him back and stay pressed against him.
“Just admit it,” I say. “And that way, we can have fun conversations between all your safety talks.” I smile. Cillian’s gaze slides over my dimples. Not, I think, without interest.
I lean in more. “I want a comforting back rub,” I say. “I was worried about you too, and I did not enjoy how scary the island became without you around.”
“The island didn’t change just because I wasn’t at camp.”
“It did.” I did too. My courage deserted me. Anxiety won out over impulse, and I stood there doing nothing when action was needed.
“Guys?” Seán calls from ahead. They’re waiting on the edge of the pathway to camp, the fire throwing long shadows across the sand.
“We’ll be a minute,” Cillian calls.
Jules and Seán continue on.
Cillian clasps my chin, turning my head one way, then the other. “Your eye is looking better. Is it still sore?”
“I’m not hurt.” I catch his hand, tugging it away.
“This is still bruised.” His attention slips to my wrist, banded in green bruises. I hadn’t felt the force in Darren’s grip at the time, focused on Cillian on deck instead. “Though the swelling is better.”
I pull my arm free. “I thought you might be hurt or need help somewhere in that jungle. And I was standing around doing nothing about it.” For two hours, I kept trying to suggest that we go a few paces into the jungle and start calling, but the words kept getting caught in my throat.
“I was overthinking everything. It wasn’t until Jules got up that we set up the fire on the beach. ”
“What job did I give you?” Cillian asks.
“Job?”
“Before I left, what job did I give you?”
“Jules.”
“You made sure he ate and drank?”
“I did, but—”
“Good.” Cillian hugs me. “Seán and I are back. Neither of us is hurt.” His hands flatten over the planes of my back, far firmer than the light touch I couldn’t help giving him earlier. “There’s no need to make that face.”
I rest my hands on his sides. He’s solid muscle. “I am making a face?”
A knuckle brushes under my jaw, sliding up to my cheek. “These didn’t show when you smiled just now.”
Oh. I thought Cillian had looked at my dimples, but had he looked at my cheeks because they didn’t show up?
“They’re never in any of my school photos.”
“You look at Jules, and your dimples show. You don’t even need to smile.”
“That’s because he stares! It makes me flustered.” I pull out of the hug. “Do they always show when I look at him?”
A smile tugs at the corners of Cillian’s mouth. “And when you think about him. They’re there now.”
“No!”
A chuckle rumbles from deep in Cillian’s chest. “Come on.” He guides me towards the camp.
“No, I must not—I need tape to—”
“He loves your dimples. I’m surprised he kissed your neck instead of them.”
My heart feels large and hot. So do my cheeks. They’re flaming when we re-enter camp.
Everyone is huddled around the fire in a ring, listening to Seán talk. I sit next to Jules. I rest my hand behind him but don’t wrap it around him like earlier. I’m not sure he’d like that in front of everyone.
Cillian sits next to Seán.
“Cillian and I found a deep pool of fresh water in the interior at the base of that hill,” Seán says. “It’s in a sheltered spot with overhanging rocks, so it shouldn’t evaporate. We’ll have to boil it, but that’s a steady supply of water.”
“You were gone all day. How far away is this water source?” Willow asks.
“Not actually that far,” Cillian says. “We were tracking back from the bamboo stands, hoping the damper ground might lead us towards water, but that took us through thick jungle. The way we eventually found to come back is a nice, straight shot right there. I’d estimate…
” He taps his fingers. “An hour, roughly.”
“For that to be worth our while, we’re going to want some water containers,” Seán continues. “We can use the bamboo poles. Their nodes are watertight, so they make good containers.”
Jules stirs, leaning forward to look around me at Mary. “Can we use the net you made as a bag?”
“Definitely,” Mary agrees.
“A bag would be a great help,” Seán says.
They break off into a discussion about how many poles we need to gather in the morning, and Cillian explains that the fresh green bamboo can be used for boiling the water too. The conversation loses me, and I study Jules instead. His lip catches between his teeth as his eyes dart over the group.
I lean in. “If you whisper it to me, I’ll say it.”
Jules shakes his head the tiniest amount.
He releases his lip, exhales, and squares his shoulders.
“I have something else to suggest,” Jules says.
“As Darren pointed out earlier, aside from you two”—he glances at Cillian and Seán—“nobody has any survival experience. I don’t know about anyone else, but it was scary having both of you gone at the same time.
If we’re going to the water source in pairs, I think it should be one of you going and the other staying at camp. ”
“Jules, that kind of thing isn’t up to you,” Darren says in a nice tone of voice.
I tense.
Jules shoots Darren a killer look. “Which is why I am suggesting it as an idea.”
“It’s a good one,” Cillian agrees. “If it’s going to be a two-hour round trip, then having someone with first aid knowledge close by is smart. Now that we’ve found the spot, we don’t need the two of us to get back there, just one.”
“And who are you volunteering for the job?” Darren asks Jules. “You can’t go.”
“I can go,” I say. “I think it’s a good idea too.”
Mary taps Charles’s knee, and his hand shoots up. “I can go too.”
“I’m already scratched to pieces,” Willow says. “So I don’t see why I can’t.”
Darren leans back on his hands, breaking eye contact with Jules. He sighs, though his body doesn’t relax. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound aggravated. I’m just hungry and irritable.”
Yasop breaks the ensuing awkward silence by lightly tapping Darren on the shoulder. “We get it. We’re all feeling that way.”
There’s a reluctant murmur of agreement. I don’t join in.
“It’s late,” Seán says. “Why don’t we turn in? We can hash out the details in the morning.”
We make our way back to our lean-tos. We end up in the same formation as last night, with Jules cradled in the middle. Cillian pulls across one of the rain walls to block the heat of the fire, and it makes the lean-to feel almost like a private room.
Jules shuffles towards me until his face is tucked against my throat. I wrap my arms around him and rub his back until he falls asleep. Cillian’s head tilts towards us in the dark. I stretch my hand towards him, find his thick thigh, and pull it over us.