The dream feels too real.

The night is warm, the kind that lingers on your skin like an embrace. The glow of the city lights stretches across the terrace, the hum of the party distant now, muffled by the night. And then there's Jason, standing close, too close, his dark suit catching the faint shimmer of the stars.

He watches me like I'm the only thing here, his gaze steady and unrelenting. "You're hiding," he says, his voice low and warm, threading through the quiet.

"I'm not hiding," I whisper, though it feels like a lie even to me.

His lips curve into that maddeningly familiar smirk, and he steps closer. Close enough that I can feel the faint heat radiating off him, the clean, sharp scent of him pulling me in. "You're hiding from me."

I should argue, maybe even laugh it off, but I don't. I can't.

Jason doesn't give me the chance to decide what to do next. His hand brushes mine, barely a touch, but it's enough to make my breath hitch.

"Dance with me," he murmurs.

I shake my head instinctively, but he doesn't pull back. "Come on," he coaxes, his voice softer now. "Just one dance."

I should say no. I know I should. But my hand moves to his before I can stop it, and the way his fingers close around mine is steady, sure. He pulls me into him, his other hand settling at my waist, and suddenly the world tilts.

The music drifts through the open doors, a slow, haunting melody that matches the rhythm of my heartbeat. His touch is firm but unhurried, guiding me into a gentle sway.

"You're tense," he says, his voice teasing but soft.

"I'm fine," I mumble, though my body betrays me, stiff and unwilling to let go.

Jason's thumb moves in a slow, deliberate circle against my waist, and the warmth of it spreads through me like a slow burn. "Relax," he whispers, his breath brushing against my temple.

I try. I try not to notice the way his hand feels against my back, the way his chest rises and falls with every breath. But it's impossible.

When I finally dare to look up, his eyes are on me, dark and unwavering. The smirk is gone now, replaced by something quieter, something I don't know how to name.

"Arden," he says, my name low and rough in his mouth.

I can't speak. My chest tightens, and the only thing I can focus on is the way he's looking at me. Like I'm something precious.

He leans in, slow and hesitant, giving me time to pull away. But I don't. His forehead brushes mine, and my breath catches.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the thrum of my heart.

I can't. I won't.

When his lips meet mine, it's soft at first, tentative, like he's afraid I'll disappear. But I don't pull away. Instead, I melt into him, my fingers clutching the fabric of his suit, grounding myself in him.

The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, his hand sliding up my back, holding me to him like I might slip away. The rest of the world fades—the terrace, the party, everything but him.

And just as I start to lose myself completely, the dream shifts, dissolving into a haze of light and sound.

I wake with a start, my heart pounding, the ghost of his touch still lingering on my skin.

I huff softly, knowing I won't be able to go back to sleep after that.

• • •

The cold wraps its bony fingers around my body, squeezing. I shiver, tucking my arm tightly under my head, curling into myself to preserve what little warmth I can. My body aches from the hard ground beneath me, and the unrelenting chill seeps into my bones.

Something skims my calf, and I flinch, instinctively pulling my leg away, forcing my eyes to stay shut. Exhaustion tugs at me, but sleep remains just out of reach, slipping away the moment I think I might find it.

It happens again, a light brush against my skin, and my eyes snap open, irritation flaring and I turn to glare at where Jason lay near me, his body flat on the ground, arms curled under his head, chest moving up and down in slow, even breaths.

I turn back to my side, trying to will myself to sleep, but the touch against my calf returns, more insistent this time. Frustration boils over, and I jolt upright, turning to face him.

"Stop touching me."

His eyes remain closed, his expression untroubled as he murmurs, "I'm not."

I sigh through my nose, exasperated, and lie back down, scooting my body further away from him. I close my eyes again, but sleep remains elusive. I can't relax, not with him so close, not with the cold wrapping around me, not with—

A touch skims up my back, and I spin around, my patience finally snapping. "Stop!"

"I'm not doing anything," Jason replies, his voice annoyingly calm, his eyes still closed as if he's completely unaffected by our situation

"You are so insufferable," I mutter, turning to face him, my eyes narrowed to slits as I watch him through the darkness. He doesn't move, except for the slight tilt of his lips at my anger, and it grates on my already frayed nerves. Slowly, I close my eyes again, determined to get at least a few minutes of rest.

I curl my arm under me, trying to find a more comfortable position. But the moment I begin to drift off, it happens again—the sensation of something brushing against my skin. My eyes snap open, and I glare down at the hand I assume belongs to Jason, but there's no hand there. Instead, a pair of serpentine eyes stare back at me, unblinking.

My breath catches in my throat, and I reach out blindly, patting at Jason's chest, my hand trembling as I keep my eyes locked on the snake between us.

"Now who's touching who?" he says jokingly, still not realizing what's happening.

"Jason," I murmur from the side of my mouth, my voice tight with fear. "There's a snake."

I feel his stomach contract under my palm, his body tensing as he slowly lifts himself from the ground. "Keep still."

"I'm trying," I grind out, every muscle in my body locked in place as I watch the snake, its forked tongue flickering out.

Jason moves cautiously toward me, his eyes never leaving the snake. "It's a tree snake," he says softly, as if that should calm me.

"I don't care what kind of snake it is; get it off."

His eyes meet mine, a grin stretching at the corners of his lips despite the tension in the air. "Say please."

"I am going to kill you."

"Oh, what language is that?" he mutters sarcastically, but he doesn't move any faster.

"Please," I murmur, the word barely escaping my clenched teeth as the snake starts to slither up my leg. "Please, please, please."

"Knew I'd make you beg one day."

"Shut. Up."

He chuckles before reaching forward, gently shooing the snake away. "Tree snakes are harmless and gentle; you just have to be gentle back."

I watch the snake slither out of the makeshift tent, a shudder running through me as I stand up and wipe the lingering feel of it from my legs. My ankle twinges with pain, but I ignore it, more focused on the relief of the snake being gone.

Jason watches me from his spot on the ground, his eyebrows raised at my antics. "There's another one," he says just as I stop wiping, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A shiver runs up my spine, and I kick my legs, looking down for the snake, turning in place like a dog chasing its tail. His laughter echoes around us, assaulting my ears, and I spin around, prepared to glare at him, but instead, I stumble, my balance slipping away as I fall.

"Oh, shit," Jason's voice reaches me a second before his arms wrap around my waist, cushioning my fall as my body lands on top of his. Our foreheads collide, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through my skull.

"Ow," I sigh out, squeezing my eyes shut, my hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as I try to steady myself.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, concerned, and it makes my chest tighten in a way I don't want to acknowledge.

I breathe in roughly through my nose, forcing myself to open my eyes and lift myself off his chest without replying. My knee folds under me as I push up, but in the process, I accidentally hit something vital.

Jason inhales sharply, his face twisting in pain as he hisses out a curse. "Fuck, kitten, you got my balls."

"Oh, did I?" I say, not bothering to hide the lack of remorse in my voice as I continue to push myself up. "Sorry."

He glares up at me, his hands cupping his injured pride. "You don't sound very sorry."

I only smile back at him, the edges of my lips curling into a smirk as I turn away, curling into position once more. "Thank you for getting rid of the snake," I say over my shoulder, not giving him a chance to respond before I close my eyes and attempt to sleep again.

The jungle air clings to my skin, thick and humid, as Jason and I pick our way through the dense greenery. It's only the second day since we woke up on this godforsaken island, and I'm still not sure what's worse—the relentless heat or Jason's infuriating confidence.

The way he moves through the dense jungle is irritatingly smooth, like he belongs here, while I stumble and hobble over every other root and swat at invisible bugs. My ankle aches but not enough for me to stop moving.

"You good back there, kitten?" Jason calls over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I told you to stop calling me that," I snap, swiping at the sweat on my brow.

"And yet, you still haven't come up with a better nickname for me instead," he shoots back, not even bothering to turn around.

I roll my eyes and bite back a retort. It's easier to focus on the sound of our steps crunching through leaves than on the way his stupidly broad shoulders flex with every movement.

After what feels like hours, we stumble upon a cluster of trees and the relief that fills me is instantaneous. The branches are heavy with coconuts. It's not the most nutritional food or sustainable option but I'm sure we can survive on coconut water for at least a little while until help arrives. Jason sheds his shirt, moving to climb the tree as he calls down, "Make a sack with my shirt."

I do, collecting the coconuts as he throws them down. There's not many but enough, for now.

"This should hold us over," he says, dropping back to the ground like it's nothing.

"Fantastic. Gourmet dining in paradise," I mutter.

Jason chuckles, that warm, low sound that irritates and unravels me in equal measure. "Don't sound too grateful. You'd starve without me."

I glare at him, but it's half-hearted. I'm too tired to argue, not that I'd have a leg to stand on if I did try to argue. He's right, I would starve.

We begin walking again in silence and or a moment, it almost feels... peaceful. But Jason, as always, can't leave well enough alone.

"You've been avoiding me," he says suddenly, breaking the calm.

My stomach tightens. "I've been busy trying not to die, in case you haven't noticed."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

I keep my gaze fixed on the ground, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of the mango. "This isn't the time for this conversation, Jason."

"When is the time, Arden? When we're back home pretending nothing happened? Or when you ghost me again like you did after Matt's wedding?"

The memory of that night flashes in my mind, unbidden—the way he'd looked at me, the heat of his hand on my thigh during that stupid garter game, the kiss we'd shared on the terrace. I shove it down, burying it deep.

"We can't do this," I say, my voice sharper than I intend. "You know that."

"Why not?" he asks, softer now, but no less insistent.

I look up at him, frustration and something I can't name bubbling to the surface. "Because you're Jason Wilde. My brother's best friend. The guy who has a different girl in every city. I'm not going to be another name on your list."

His jaw tightens, his dark eyes narrowing. For a second, I think I've finally managed to shut him up. But then he leans in, his voice low and rough.

"You're not 'just another name,' Arden. You never were."

My heart stumbles, and I hate it. Hate the way his words seep into the cracks I've tried so hard to seal.

I push to my feet, brushing the dirt and sand from my legs. "We need to keep exploring before it gets dark." I mutter, quickening my steps.

Jason doesn't argue, but his gaze burns into my back as I lead the away.