“I don’t know if it’s sad,” she answers, turning her body toward me. “But it comes with a list of dos and don'ts that could fill up that whole night sky.”
I stare at her, trying not to memorize her beautiful face. “How did you convince them to let you do this?”
“I didn't.” She shuts her eyes tightly. “I approached Kira Taylor in private, then I had to sneak out of the palace without my security following me.”
My mouth drops in shock. “Are you serious?”
Arabella nods. “My grandmother plays poker once a month with the guys who work in the garage. One of them is into her for a lot of money, so I was able to offer him a nice wad of cash to hide me in the boot of his car and take me straight to the airport.”
“Okay, can I just say how impressed I am?”
“You may,” she says in a regal tone. Her smile fades, replaced by a worried expression. “I can't even imagine what's going on back home right now. I left overly sentimental handwritten notes for nearly everyone on staff and in the family.”
“Just in case?”
“That probably sounds silly to you.”
“Nope. Life is really fucking short,” I say, thinking about my parents and Arabella's mother.
“Itisreally fucking short,” she says. “You know something funny? You and I both lost people at a very early age, and we've both come to the conclusion that life is short, but thewaywe respond to that knowledge is completely opposite. I never risk anything, and you do nothing but risk everything.”
I gaze into her eyes, and for an unexplainable reason, I find myself wanting to risk everything once again. She is so unexpectedly sweet, and vulnerable, and beautiful. Do not kiss her. Do not even think about it.I glance down at her full lips and then back up at her eyes. The sound of an owl hooting interrupts the moment.
“If the owls are out, it must be late,” she says, biting her bottom lip.
“We should get some rest.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my entire body grows furious with me for saying them.
Not tonight. Not ever.
15
Tiny Tents, Hot Men, and Other Things That Keep You Up at Night
Arabella
Why can't I sleep?I mean, really—why? I've been up since the crack of dawn, have had enough adrenaline flow through me today to revive ten patients in cardiac arrest, I've trekked what feels like a thousand kilometers on uneven terrain. Every muscle in my body is aching, and I am utterly exhausted. I should have fallen straight into a deep sleep. And yet, I'm laying here in this tiny tent, staring up at the fabric above me, listening to the babbling of the river, the hypnotic song of the cicadas, and the gentle snoring coming from just outside the tent (which I must say I find oddly comforting).
And I know what you’re thinking, but trust me, you’re wrong. I’m not awake because of the man making those comforting snoring sounds, or because I’ve never felt as safe in my life as I do with him—especially the bit where he held me while I fell apart like a complete baby. Seriously, it's gotnothingto do with him and everything to do with me knowing that back home, my family, as well as most likely the media, are freaking out wondering what the hell has gotten into me. My father must be through-the-roof mad. And Arthur is going to be furious with me, not that I care.
All right,fine. I do care. And it’s killing me to know I’ve upset everyone like this. It feels absolutely selfish for me to have runaway from my duties and the people who love me most.
Good God, Arabella, just close your eyes and go to sleep already. There’s nothing you can do to fix any of it. Not from here. The only thing you can do is get out of this jungle as quickly as possible, so you can go home and make everything okay again.
Sigh.
.
.
.
Sigh again.
Okay, but first, I do have to get a few things off my chest. There’s no denying that he’s absolutely gorgeous, and he smelled quite yummy even though he was wearing bug repellent and was all sweaty when he was hugging me. Also, he said that really sweet thing about how cute my toes are. That was definitely knicker-melting. Plus, he turned the cameras off for me.
I mean, he was totally a dismissive dickhead earlier in the day, but I'm not sure I can blame him. Imagine what a threat I must be? After all, Dylan did say she was going to rename the program so it’ll be about me. That must have stung, no? Plus, he wasn't wrong about the fact that I don't have the first clue what I'm doing out here, and it's entirely possible I'll get us both into some kind of scrape and we'll end up dead. So, I suppose he had reason to be a bit snippy.
Anyway, back to me not sleeping. The fact that I find him attractive beyond what I have ever felt in my life has nothing to do with me lying awake. It's really just all the other things. I'm definitely not thinking about unzipping this tent and crawling into his sleeping bag with him. Because that would be wrong. That would make me the skanky ho that awful blogger was worried about. Well, not really. I'm judging myself rather harshly, aren't I? I can have sex with an available, single, interested man. That’s totally fine in this day and age.
