Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lily woke to the sound of aggressive note-taking.
Not birdsong. Not waves. The scratchy, determined sound of pen against paper, punctuated by the occasional frustrated sigh.
She kept her eyes closed for a moment, orienting herself.
No lumpy couch cushions beneath her. Instead, she was curled up in Alex's bed, wrapped in sheets that smelled like salt and him.
The faint aroma of coffee already brewing.
And the very vivid memory of Alex Carmichael's mouth on hers, his hands in her hair, the way he'd groaned her name like it was pulled from somewhere deep.
So that happened.
She cracked one eye open and found Alex at the small table, hunched over his field notes with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb. His hair was still damp from what she assumed was an aggressively early shower, and his shoulders were practically touching his ears with tension.
Ah. The classic morning-after freak-out. She'd seen this move before—the emotional retreat disguised as productivity. Men were so predictable.
"Morning," she said, stretching deliberately as she sat up.
Alex's pen stuttered. "Morning." He didn't look up. "Coffee's ready."
"Thanks." Lily padded to the kitchen area, acutely aware that she was wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt. It smelled like salt and something woodsy that was distinctly him.
God, it made her feel all tingly inside. Deal with that later.
She poured herself a cup and leaned against the counter, watching him pretend to work. His handwriting had gotten progressively smaller and more cramped—a sure sign he wasn't actually processing whatever he was writing.
"So," she said, blowing on her coffee. "Are we going to talk about it, or are you planning to annotate your notes into oblivion?"
His pen stopped. "Talk about what?"
"Seriously?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "Playing dumb? You're too smart for that."
"The sex?" His voice was carefully neutral. "I just don't think we need to dissect it."
"Dissect it? I'm not asking for a lab report. I just think ignoring it is going to make the next week and a half incredibly awkward."
Alex finally looked up, and Lily caught the conflict in his blue eyes—the war between what he wanted and what he thought he should want. She knew that battle intimately.
"It was a mistake," he said, but the words lacked conviction.
"Was it?" Lily moved closer, settling into the chair across from him. "Because from where I was sitting—well, technically I was horizontal at that point—it felt pretty intentional."
A flush crept up his neck. "The circumstances were... heightened. The storm. Your fear. Proximity."
"Proximity," she repeated, amused. "Is that the scientific term for it?"
"I'm serious, Lily. We're stuck here together. Getting involved complicates things."
"News flash: things are already complicated." She took a sip of coffee, letting the silence stretch. "Look, I'm not asking you to propose. I'm just saying we're both adults who shared a moment. We can acknowledge it happened without it turning into a whole thing."
"And then what?"
"And then we figure it out as we go." She shrugged. "That's kind of how life works, in case you missed that lecture in grad school."
Alex stared at her, something shifting in his expression. "You're remarkably calm about this."
"One of us has to be." She grinned. "Besides, I've done worse. I once had a one-night stand with an Instagram model in Tulum who turned out to be a flat-earther. Now that was a mistake worth dissecting."
The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. "A flat-earther?"
"Believed the ocean was a government simulation.
Hottest guy I'd ever seen, dumbest thing I'd ever heard.
" Lily leaned back in her chair. "Point is, one bump and grind during a tropical storm isn't the end of the world.
Unless you're secretly a flat-earther too, in which case, we have bigger problems."
"The earth is demonstrably spherical," Alex said dryly.
"See? We're already more compatible than my last hook-up."
"Not sure I like being lumped in with that guy." He shook his head, but the tension in his shoulders had eased slightly.
"I'm known for my terrible comparisons. I'm smart, too, remember?" She winked.
"That you are. And impossible."
"I prefer 'delightfully persistent.'" Lily finished her coffee and set the mug down with purpose. "Now, since we've established that neither of us is going to spontaneously combust from acknowledging our attraction, can we talk about something else?"
"Like what?"
"Like my proposal from before. Filming your research."
Alex's guard went back up immediately. "I thought we discussed this."
"We discussed it when you thought I was a vapid content creator who'd turn your life's work into a punchline." She held his gaze. "I'd like to think you know me a little better now."
"Do I?"
The question hung between them, weighted with more than its surface meaning. Lily considered her answer carefully.
"You know I'm afraid of storms," she said quietly. "You know I have daddy issues and a pre-law degree I never used. You know I actually care about the places I feature, even if I didn't always show it." She paused. "That's more than most people get."
Alex was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was softer. "My supervisor told me before I left that I needed to work on public engagement. That the research doesn't matter if no one outside academia ever hears about it."
"Smart supervisor."
"She's insufferable, actually. But occasionally right." He drummed his fingers on the table, clearly wrestling with himself. "If I agreed to this—and I'm not saying I am—there would be conditions."
"Shocker." Lily's heart leaped, but she kept her expression neutral. "I'm listening."
"You can film the research. The specimens, the reef, the data collection. But not me personally. I'm not becoming some kind of... internet personality."
"No personal shots. Got it."
"And you run the footage by me. I won't have my work misrepresented."
"Fair."
"And—" He hesitated. "You actually try to understand what we're documenting. Not just pretty footage of fish. The real substance of why this matters."
Something in his tone made Lily's chest tighten. This wasn't just about his research, she realized. It was about whether he could trust her with something important to him.
"I promise," she said, and meant it.
Alex studied her for another long moment, then nodded once. "Okay. We can try it."
"Yeah?"
"Don't make me regret this."
Lily grinned, already mentally cataloging her equipment.
“You're about to get the best publicity the South Pacific Environmental Conservation Agency has ever seen.
My manager, Jessica, is going to have an aneurysm when she finally sees what I've been working on—but the good kind.
The 'why didn't you tell me you were sitting on gold' kind. "
“Is she the one who booked you on the wrong island?"
"That's her assistant, technically, but yeah. Jess handles the business side—contracts, sponsors, all the stuff that makes my brain hurt." Lily waved a hand. “I’m sure she's been blowing up my nonexistent signal for two weeks, probably convinced I've been kidnapped or joined a cult."
"Is there a difference?"
"Depends on the cult. Some have great snacks."
Alex snorted—an actual, genuine snort of amusement—and Lily filed it away as a victory.
A crackling sound from the corner of the cabin made them both turn. The emergency radio—a battered device Lily had barely noticed before—sputtered to life with a burst of static.
Alex crossed the room and adjusted the dial. Through the interference, a tinny voice emerged: "...tropical system developing northwest... advisories for the southern archipelago... ferry services monitoring conditions..."
The static swallowed the rest.
"What does that mean?" Lily asked.
Alex's jaw tightened. "It means there's weather coming. Could be nothing—these systems form and dissipate all the time. But if it intensifies..." He trailed off, staring at the radio like it had personally betrayed him.
"The boat?”
"Might come early to beat the weather. Or get delayed until it passes." He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "Either way, the timeline just got uncertain."
Uncertain. The word landed heavier than it should have. Two weeks had already felt too short. Now even that wasn't guaranteed.
"Well," Lily said, forcing brightness into her voice, "guess that means we'd better make the most of whatever time we've got. No more wasting daylight."
Alex met her eyes, and something passed between them—an acknowledgment of the clock now ticking louder.
"Get your camera," he said. "We've got work to do."
Two hours later, Lily found herself waist-deep in crystal-clear water, her waterproof camera trained on Alex as he examined a section of coral reef.
She'd seen beautiful places before—it was literally her job—but watching Ilot Serenite through Alex's eyes was different. Every rock, every fish, every swaying piece of seaweed had a story he could tell.
"This is Acropora cervicornis," he said, gesturing to a branching coral formation. "Staghorn coral. One of the fastest-growing species, which makes it crucial for reef recovery—but also one of the most vulnerable to bleaching."
Lily zoomed in on the delicate branches, their pale pink color vivid against the blue water. "Bleaching is from warming temperatures, right?"
"Primarily. When water gets too warm, the coral expels the algae living in its tissues.
That's what gives them color and provides most of their nutrients.
Without it..." He trailed off, running a gentle finger along one branch.
"They can recover if conditions improve quickly enough. But if the stress continues, they die."
There was something in his voice—a tenderness that made Lily lower her camera for a moment.
"You really love this," she said. Not a question.