CHAPTER FIFTEEN
J ason
Something unmasculine and definitely undignified coils through my chest. I stare at the ocean, as if I can will a boat to appear to take us back.
No boat appears.
“The hotel knows we’re gone,” Cal says. “They’ll send someone to find us.”
I nod, but my stomach twists at the thought that newspaper headlines will talk about “Joyride Gone Wrong” or “Bad Boy Larvik Gets Lost.”
“The papers will probably say I was hungover.”
“You weren’t.”
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
Jesus Christ. Cal’s probably going to write the article himself: “Stranded with the Irresponsible Player.” Or something more awful.
Cal collapses onto the sand, his face flushed.
I don’t linger my gaze on him, because there’s nothing interesting there. “You take this side of the island, I’ll take the other. Then we can greet the rescue boat when it arrives.”
“Smart.”
I jerk my head into some semblance of a nod, then hurry back through the jungle. The palm trees and vines tear at my clothes, as if they’re angry at me too.
I scowl, then find the other beach.
I keep my gaze on the water, but nothing happens. No plane flies overhead. No search boat. No jet skis.
Nothing... mechanical
I stand to get a full view of the water. I try to calculate how long we’ve been gone, when the jet ski person will notice we’re absent, when they’ll send someone after us.
Fuck.
I pace the beach, because I’m being ridiculous. The jet ski journey was long enough for Cal’s jet ski to run out of gas, though I suspect his fuel tank wasn’t full anyway. The person we signed from seemed new, and my chest makes that funny squeeze again.
My legs go wobbly, like I’m one of those beginner skaters on Frog Pond, all flailing limbs.
I refuse to slide to the sand in defeat.
Instead, I pace. My pulse surges into last half minute of a tied last period mode, but it’s fine.
My breath puffs and pants like I’m trying to remind myself I have lungs, but it’s fine.
My feet ache like I’ve squeezed myself into too tight skates, then tried to play Montreal, but it’s fine.
I peer at the ocean like the best sailor. I might not have a telescope, but I have my eyes, and I’m going to fucking notice when a boat comes. I can always take the jet ski out and reach it.
I smile. I’ve got this. Definitely.
CAL
No boat comes passing through. The sky darkens, the white fluffy clouds replaced with somber steel ones. The wind rips through the palm trees, the gentle rustle turning into something more ominous.
It doesn’t matter.
It just means I might be seasick on the boat ride back. No problem, really. Jason has already seen me scared. Maybe he’ll get to see me throw up too.
How fantastic.
The sky goes darker.
Rain drops fall, and I shift on the sand.
“Cal...” Jason’s voice is suddenly above me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for a boat. Like you wanted me to.”
“Let’s hide behind the rocks. That will offer some protection from the wind.”
“I’ll be here. Need to watch for boats.”
Jason gives a curt nod, then marches away, and I am alone on the beach.
Which is actually completely awesome.
The boat still doesn’t appear. The rain does.
Finally, the rain stops falling. Jason is already gone.
He can go back to his side of the island.
He’s probably worried I’ll start asking him interview questions now, which, well, may not be a bad idea. So, once the boat arrives, I can fly back to Boston, Rex will praise me, and Jason can go back to being smug about everything.
I scan the horizon, but no, there’s absolutely no boat in the distance. I march through the jungle again to explain to Jason why I should interview him now.
But as I approach, I hesitate. His shoulders are collapsed, his back is drooped, and he runs his fingers through the wet sand as if he thinks it will calm him.
I didn’t mean to make him actually upset.
Guilt moves through me, then I decide to turn around.
I can ask him another time.
A twig crunches beneath my feet, and his head swivels toward me.
“You’re supposed to be on the other side of the island,” he says.
“But we approached the island from this direction.”
He swallows hard. “They don’t know where we are, Cal. They think we’re headed for Mirror Island, and that place had a hotel and store and who knows what else. What if they don’t look here?”
My stomach drops. “That’s not possible.”
“I-I hope not.” He gives me a smile. “Never mind, Cal. Forget I said anything.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Yes.” He nods multiple times. “That’s me.”
Puddles shimmer where the rain was, and rain-drenched palm fronds drip water in slow, steady drops. Mangled flowers scatter the beach—drooping hibiscus petals, trampled orchids, and frangipani blossoms drifting this way and that over the rain-darkened sand.
I continue to peer at the ocean.
And then...
Hope moves through me. “That’s it!”
“Cal?”
“Look!” I run toward the water. My bare feet crunch over smashed shells and pebbles. I rush into the ocean. It sloshes against my ankles and stings my feet. I wave my arms in the air, because I’m sure the first aid station at the hotel can fix me up like new.
“We’re here!” I shout. “We’re here!”
“Cal!” Jason shouts, but I ignore him. The only thing I care about is having the boat notice me.
The boat is only a dark sliver in the distance, moving quickly. It disappears.
All the joy, all the hope vanishes, extinguished as easily as when I used to use my fingers to smother out candle flames as a child. I turn to Jason. His face is paler than before.
No. There’s hope. There must be.
“The other side!” I run from the water, ignoring the pain in my feet and Jason’s startled expression.
Then footsteps follow me, battering the fallen twigs and leaves. “Cal!”
I flee deeper into the jungle, toward the other beach.
Palm fronds and banyan leaves crowd the path, brushing down my back like zombie fingers as I run.
The thick floral scent is too sweet and utterly inappropriate, like I’ve been swept into a perfumer’s machinations and am about to be pounded into liquid, poured into glass bottles, and shelved for rich people to sniff on paper tabs in airports.
My feet scream. I’ve cut myself a dozen ways. The mud squelches beneath me.
It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the boat. All that matters is being rescued.
Speed is essential.
The boat will spot us on the other side, and then we’ll be sailing back to the resort.
Maybe the boat even spotted us and was moving so quickly because it wanted to dock on the other side. That’s possible.
I ignore the fact the boat isn’t slowing.
The strip of light on the other side of the jungle becomes lighter and lighter, until finally I’m stepping into the open air.
I hurry toward the shore.
The boat isn’t docked yet, because I don’t see any men in orange vests carrying metal sheets for us.
“Cal!” Jason yells, but I ignore him.
He can say whatever he wants to say once we’re safely on the boat.
Except when I swing my gaze around, there’s no boat.
And when I enter the water again, there’s no boat.
Not even in the distance.
“Where is it?” I ask.
“It was probably a normal boat.”
I blink. “Oh.”
“We’ll wait.”
“Right.” I try to nod, because I’m not showing Jason I’m crushed.
I don’t want him to be regaling his homophobic teammates about how he was stuck on a tropical island with an overly emotional gay guy.
I spread a smile onto my face, even though I feel like I’m tearing my face to put it on.
“It’s okay,” Jason says, but I’m not in the mood for any lies.
“You don’t have to comfort me. I’m an adult.”
“I know. I’m going to see if there’s any food. If cavemen used to survive, we can too.” He gives a harsh laugh.
He doesn’t add that there’s nothing else for us to do here or that’ll need to figure out a way to survive, but I’m sure he’s thinking it.
I am too.
Because we both know, we’re in big trouble.