Under a patch of trees are a few gushing taps mounted to the fence, currently in use by people washing their hair and their underarms. A long queue of exhausted looking festival-dwellers holding towels and toothbrushes line the fence. Damn festivals.
‘Oh, no way. Let’s just save time and go to the next clue, this will take forever!’
He frowns. ‘I smell of pond, Nora. I’m not going to walk around covered inalgae.’
He starts to walk towards the back of the line. I throw my head back in exasperation and drag my heels behind him, not unlike a child.
‘You’re fine! If it makes you feel better I never would have guessed you’ve just been in a body of water. You smell absolutely fine from here.’
He takes his place in the queue and shoots me a stony glare.
‘I’m beginning to get the feeling you don’t care very much for my well-being.’
‘You look very well to me,’ I say with a shrug.
His feet remain planted in the queue. ‘Nice try, princess. I’m not leaving until I get to wash this crap off me, andyouneed me for the next clue. So it looks like you’ll just have to wait.’
Unfortunately, patience is not a trait I possess much of.
My eyes narrow. ‘Where did you even put the clue?’
‘It’s all in here,’ he says, tapping his temple smugly. ‘Not worth searching my pockets.’
A noise of frustration escapes me and I find my hand clenching tighter onto the drumstick with fury. One of his dark, perfect brows arches in amusement.
‘Would it kill you to have some composure? Oh come on, don’t look at me like that.’
‘Then stop getting on my last nerve,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Just at least tell me the clue so we can brainstorm together here. I’m not exactlygoinganywhere, am I?’ I say, pointing down at the drumstick.
‘Otherwise you would be running for the hills at this stage, I imagine,’ he murmurs, looking back at the queue to check for movement.
‘Correct.’
‘But only after using me so you don’t have to go lake-dipping, of course,’ he drawls.
‘That was your idea,’ I mutter, groaning as he peels his t-shirt offagain. ‘I just wish you had the willpower to keep your clothes on for more than two minutes.’
‘We either do this now or I go back to the camp to change,’ he says. ‘It’s your choice.’
‘Or you could just remain fully clothed and we continue with our day?’ I suggest, earning a glower.
‘I’m not apologising for getting in the water for you.’
I gasp mockingly. ‘Forme? You’re much too kind. I gathered you did it to reap the benefits of the prize we’re hoping to win as a team, but perhaps I’ve been too rash.’
‘Maybe I just would have liked to seeyouswim with the eels forourprize that we’re trying to win as a team. Next time, it’s your turn.’
‘My “turn”? To remove my clothes?’ I ask, incredulous. ‘Do you think we’ve entered some kind of absurd nudist treasure hunt?’
A muscle in his jaw jumps. ‘Whatever trial is up next, it’s your turn to get your hands dirty,’ he says, a glimmer in his eye. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fair is fair.’
‘Fine,’ I repeat, still furious he has no shirt on. ‘And may I say, you’re being particularly taxing today.’
‘We’ve literally known each other for less than twenty-four hours,’ he counters.
