“That’s it,” she said.
“What’s it?”
“Operation Shit Boot.” She turned to Delilah, and what felt like a Cheshire cat grin curled her mouth.
“What about it?”
Claire flapped her hands around. “We need to . . . I don’t know. Further it.”
Delilah lifted a brow. “Are you talking about shenanigans?”
“Yes!” Claire clapped her hands once and then pointed at Delilah. “Exactly. Camp shenanigans.”
“Like pouring honey all over his sleeping bag or something? Because I’m here for that.”
Claire frowned. “Well, not exactly like that. I mean . . . he’s sharing a tent with Astrid. I want to drive him nuts, not her.”
“We could feed them both a sleeping pill and then pull his air mattress out onto the springs like in that movie The Parent Trap.”
“Oh my god, I love that movie.” Claire tapped her chin. “I don’t think he has an air mattress though.”
“And the water’s not exactly dragging distance,” Delilah said.
“Give him some sugar water for the bugs?”
“You know how he hates bugs.”
They laughed, but nothing they’d mentioned felt feasible or, well, mature. But Claire didn’t care about maturity right now. She cared about this. Delilah and her under the trees, plotting like teenagers to help their friend. It felt like something more than just planning a prank—it felt like getting something back, something fun and light and meaningful that they never got to have as girls.
Something Claire never even thought to try for.
But she could one hundred percent try for it now.
“Maybe we should consult the oracle,” Claire said, taking Delilah’s hand and lacing their fingers together as they started walking again.
“Ah, the all-knowing,” Delilah said, smiling. “Now if Astrid could draw the praying mantis card, that would be ideal. Just bite his head the hell off and be done with it.”
Claire laughed. “I seriously doubt she’d draw the apple.”
“Well, she’s not a horndog like you.”
“Hey now.” Claire bumped their shoulders together, and Delilah bumped right back. They walked like that for a while, nearly reaching the springs before Claire’s posture snapped straight.
“I’ve got it,” she said, turning them around and pulling Delilah back toward camp by the hand.
“I thought we were going swimming,” Delilah asked.
“We are,” Claire said, knocking a pine needle–covered limb out of her way. “But first we need to make a little stop by Josh’s cooking supplies.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
HALF AN HOUR later, Delilah couldn’t stop smiling as they hurried along the trail toward the springs. Her fingers tangled with Claire’s under the trees, and Claire kept releasing these little giggles that made Delilah feel like she was back in high school, but not any kind of high school she’d ever experienced. This high school felt like belonging and friendship and laughter. Delilah didn’t even have those things now, much less back when she was a kid.
There were a million feelings curling in her gut, confusing and addictive. She wasn’t sure what to do with them all other than ignore them, push them down, and focus on the way Claire’s palm felt pressed against hers.
The way Claire seemed . . . happy.
It was a heady sensation, making a beautiful woman smile and laugh like that. So heady, in fact, that when the trees cleared and the small natural pool sparkled in front of them, Ruby squealing as Josh tossed her into the air, Delilah and Claire didn’t let go of each other. Not at first. For a second it felt so . . . normal, to be holding hands in front of other people.
But when Ruby resurfaced, Claire pulled her fingers free. Delilah determined not to let it bother her, the secrecy. Claire was an adult who had a kid, and Delilah knew she was no one’s idea of a dream partner.
She got it.
But as Claire walked away from her and toward the water, kicking off her shoes and sliding her shorts down her lovely thighs, Delilah was starting to think she didn’t like it.
She didn’t like it one bit.
* * *
DELILAH SPENT THE rest of the afternoon with Ruby. They swam in the steamy water while Claire spoke in low tones with Josh, Delilah pretending she couldn’t hear the stress in Claire’s voice the whole time. Later, when they got back to camp and changed into dry clothes, she sat with Ruby on a log and showed her how to edit the birdbath photo the girl had taken the night before.
“Whoa,” Ruby said as Delilah adjusted the exposure. “That’s amazing, how much of a difference it makes.”
“Well, the trick is,” Delilah said, fiddling with the saturation, “make it look like you didn’t edit it at all. Figure out what to do so that the natural light, color, tone is all enhanced, not completely altered. Like, look at this part right here.” Delilah pointed to the flower floating in the middle of the dingy water on the screen. “What would you do to make it look better?”
Ruby screwed up her face in thought. “I’d . . . I’d sharpen it.”
Delilah smiled and nudged her shoulder. “Me too.” She tapped the Detail tab and handed the phone over to Ruby. “Go for it.”
The girl played around with the sharpening tool, watching how it changed the photo, before deciding on a setting that outlined the flower a little more clearly against the water.
“What else?” Delilah asked.
Ruby stared down at the phone. “The color. I want it to look kind of . . . faded?”
“Why?”
“Because . . . because it’s sort of a sad picture? An old birdbath, a single flower, dirty water. It’s not . . . it’s not something birds actually use. It’s forgotten.”
Delilah’s mouth parted as she watched the girl frown at her photo, her chest tightening. But not in a bad way. In a way that brought back that feeling she had with Claire earlier, like years reforming themselves. Ruby saw the world in a way that felt familiar to Delilah, an artist’s point of view, and it could be a lonely way to move through life. Ruby wasn’t alone, of course. She had myriad people who cared about her, so she and Delilah were different in that way. But in other ways, with this little birdbath and what it might symbolize, they were alike.
And it was . . . comforting.
Delilah felt a wild urge to reach out and tuck the girl’s damp hair behind her ear. She didn’t. Instead, she just nodded. “Yeah. Fading the color would be really powerful.”