Unfortunately, our technique sucked and we hit too hard, losing the sweet water all over the sand.
I berated myself until my eyes prickled with angry tears. We didn’t get to drink the nectar, but at least we were able to share the flesh, scraping the coconut with the Swiss Army knife and pretending it was dessert to round out our lacklustre dinner.
No one mentioned the awful situation of a working cell-phone with no signal. No one could bear the admission that the final nail had been hammered into our lonely tomb.
It was as if it never happened and I hated shouldering the responsibility for taunting them with hope.
The battery on my phone had hit forty percent before the sun went down, and I tucked it safely away for tomorrow’s solar charge.
But...what was the point?
The phone had turned into a paperweight. Emergency numbers didn’t work. Wifi, data, calls...nothing.
Useless.
Just like everything else on this island.
Just like me.
The constant hollowness in my stomach grew worse as hours ticked into days. I’d never gone without food for so long, and already, I felt things shutting down. I rarely needed to pee, and everything was hazy—as if I’d entered a realm where comprehension was blanketed with syrup.
I was lethargic, short-tempered, and depressed.
By the time we curled into our sandy beds (Pippa wrapped in my arms and Galloway refusing to admit he wasn’t well enough to build a shelter), I fell into the first sleep I’d had since crash landing.
Not because I was utterly exhausted and my body finally forced me to rest. But because dreams were so much better than reality.
.............................
DAY THREE
“I’m sorry.”
I spun around, stumbling in shock. “You’re awake.”
Galloway’s hand lashed out, catching my elbow and keeping me upright. “Heard you get up.”
I took a step away, breaking his hold (even though his touch was more than welcome). I didn’t like the animosity from yesterday and definitely didn’t like the sensation of loneliness when he’d left. I had no one else to turn to. We couldn’t afford to be angry with each other.
“I’m sorry, too.”
His eyes smouldered in the night, his lips twitching into a soft smile.
Some of my fear and unhappiness dissolved. I was so glad to have someone to talk to, even if the topics of conversation weren’t normal.
Galloway was no longer a stranger but a friend. A friend I trusted even if I didn’t fully understand.
Turning to face the polyethylene he’d wrapped around a few branches of our shady tree (what was that about anyway?), I whispered, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I ensured Pippa and Conner slept without interruption. After my slip into unconsciousness, I’d awoken abruptly, only to find the sun hadn’t risen yet.
“Me either.” Galloway swayed, his crutch wedged beneath his arm for support. The cut on his thigh had scabbed over, healing faster than the scrape on my chest.
At some point, he’d pulled on a pair of board-shorts with a black and teal pattern. They hid his boxer-briefs but still allowed the splint to stay on.
“How are you feeling?” I hugged myself, doing my best to stay warm. Daytimes were hot but the nights...weren’t. If lack of hunger didn’t kill us, the swinging temperatures would.
Galloway glanced away. “I’m fine.”
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
A flicker of amusement. “Probably not.”
“Such a man.”
“I would’ve expected a worse name than that.”
We made eye contact. My heart became a stupid pinwheel. “Oh? What should I call you?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Idiot? Douche-bag? Those are two.”
I let the joviality hover, enjoying the simplicity. “I don’t think either of those suit you.”
His voice switched to an intoxicating murmur. “What do you suggest then?”
Turning to face him, I cocked my head. I used it as an excuse to stare at him. Stare at his dark brown hair curling over his forehead, the pink sunburn on his nose, and his perfectly formed lips.
My stomach fluttered as his gaze dropped to my mouth.
Everything tightened. My muscles, my core, my heart.
I wanted to bridge the gap between us. I wanted to wrap myself around him, and in turn, have his arms wrap around me, stealing reassurance that tomorrow would be a better day.
Joking disappeared as we stood, totally silent, utterly immobile, neither breaking the spell. It was unbelievably stupid to get caught up in desire, but in that stolen moon-sleeping moment, reality vanished and I indulged in guilty, desperately needed pleasure.
Kiss him.
Galloway sucked in a breath as I swayed closer.
I didn’t touch him.
No hands or arms or fingers.
Just closed the distance, stood on my toes, and pressed my lips to his.
He froze.
I froze.
The world froze as our lips joined, and I forgot what came next. I forgot because every thought in my head erupted into a thousand pieces of confetti.
His lips, oh...
They were so warm and firm and masculine and...
He tilted his head ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue caressing me. His touch wasn’t a seduction more of a question.