“Have I been upgraded from Tarzan to Superman?” I smile back. Am I… flirting?What the fuck?A week ago, I wanted to strangle her, and now I’m turning into some mushy shit ready to talk nonsense just to see her smile.Who the hell are you, Ezra King?
“Is it Friday today?” She suddenly pauses mid step. “Or is it Sunday? We should celebrate it.”
“Celebrate Friday?” I ask with a raised brow.
“Yes,” she replies in aduhtone. “Or Sunday.”
I want to ask her to elaborate on the celebration of a day of the week, but she’s already moved on.
“If we don’t get rescued by then, of course.” She snorts at herself like the idea of staying here for an extra two days sounds too absurd.
“We might,” I suggest hopefully.
“Or we might not.” Her enthusiasm is quickly dying. “You know, the last time I checked, I think forty-six out of one hundred and twenty or so islands in French Polynesia are uninhabited.” She glances at me, waiting for an answer. When I shake my head, she continues. “And we landed ourselves on one of those.” The way she says it doesn’t sound very sad.
“Are you that type of person with a half-full glass?” I can’t help but ask. Because since the moment we met, she’s been one big bubble of joy. A very annoying one sometimes.
“And you,” she taps her finger on her chin, “let me guess, no water in the glass at all?”
“I’m a realist,” I repeat, in case she’s forgotten.
“Okay,realist,” she says mockingly. “Tell me your ideas.”
“I don’t have any,” I deadpan. “Just stay alive until rescue arrives, that’s it.”
“Sounds good to me. We need food. And water. We already have shelter, but we might need to reinforce it. Well,” she giggles, “youmight need to reinforce since I’m pretty much useless in this department.”
“You seem very knowledgeable in other ways.” I’m not even trying to stroke her ego as I say it. I’ve never been to these islands and know nothing about them. “Is there anything poisonous here?”
“No-o-o,” she says a bit defensively, like I’ve personally offended her. “These islands are a true paradise. Nothing is poisonous. Nothing is big enough to eat us either. No big sharks, only little reef guys and sting rays. Totally harmless. They’re like cute pets. Wanna pet them?” Her eyes light up. “We can.”
I wince, not agreeing with any type of shark being cute, but she continues, not noticing my face.
“I’m sure there’s a lot of other stuff we can eat. I’ve seen chickens on the big islands but didn’t know they live here too. I have no idea how they even got here.” She points toward the ocean. “We can fish and make sashimi.” Turning to me, she smiles sheepishly. “If you know how to fish, because I don’t.”
I nod with a smile, and she lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness I’m stuck here with you.”
My smile grows wider because I’m slowly starting to feel the same about being here with her as a companion. The world must be ending if this is happening.
“We,” she clears her throat, and it sounds awfully like she just laughed, “youneed to reinforce the bungalow. If the rain gets stronger, the water might get through. We got lucky that the sun came out because when the real wet season hits, the humidity will be insane.”
“Yes, ma’am.” My cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling—I haven’t used these muscles for a long time. My brother wouldn’t recognize me if he saw me right now.
“That’s what I can think of.” She shrugs. “They’ll find us eventually. It might take some time, as I said. But they will. There’re a lot of islands, and some of them are spread far apart. And I definitely will be late to get where I needed to be!”
One might think being late somewhere is not a good thing, but she sounds very happy at the prospect. And I suddenly become curious what sort of an event makes her want to miss it.
Am I imagining it, or is she really happy about that? I sure as fuck am. I’m treating this strandedsituation as a vacation. My brother should be able to hold the front for now.
“We can celebrate Friday. Or Sunday.” Then I addhurriedly, trying not to soundthatenthusiastic, “I mean, if you want.”
Her face brightens with the most beautiful smile. “I’d love that very much.”
“Deal then.” I point toward the bungalow as she called it. “Shall we?”
Maeve bends down to remove a blade of grass from between her toes. Her tits nearly fall out of her bra which covers pretty much nothing. I’m suddenly painfully aware that I don’t have a blazer to cover me. Just like I didn’t have it back in the shelter when I woke up with her body so close to me. I didn’t even have pants, for fuck’s sake. All I had was my boxers, and it’s not enough to contain what I have in there. I’m six-foot-three, and my dick follows the proportions to a T. Not that I’ve ever complained about that—or anyone else for that matter—but now it feels very uncomfortable.
20
