My legs give out and I crumple to the ground.
Two thousand fourteen?
“You’ve been here… six, seven, eight years?!”
“It’s not so bad,” he says.
“Not so bad?!” I shout as I leap back up to my feet. “You’re here all by yourself! Wait, are you here all by yourself?”
He sunk his yacht. Maybe he’s a billionaire who sailed out with a harem of Brazilian supermodels. That’s just what I need. To be marooned on a desert island with a bunch of hot supermodels to make it even worse.
“I’m alone, yes.”
I turn around and desperately scan the ocean, looking for a ship or an airplane or anything. Jeffrey is the only sign of civilization. He’s caught in the waves on the shore, gently swaying from side to side, his boner bent at a ninety degree angle.
“Nothing comes by?” I ask in a near frantic voice as I turn back to him. “No ships? No planes?”
He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. I like the way his tricep flexes when he does that, but that’s not important right now.
“I saw a ship go by once, but that was about four years ago.”
“One ship in four years?!”
I plop my ass onto the sand and drop my head between my legs, feeling defeated. “Shit…”
He nods. “Yup.”
“I’m really stuck here?”
He sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”
I grab a handful of sand and stare at it as it turns to clumps in my wet palm. My mind is racing for a solution—any solution—but like this stupid island, it’s coming up empty.
“So…” I say as I look up at him. “I guess that means we’re roommates?”
“I guess so,” he says in that deep resonant voice. “We’re mates now.”
“Roommates,” I correct.
He turns and walks away.
“Ummmm…”
I throw down the handful of sand and jump up to follow him.
“Where are you going?” I ask as I race to catch up. “Can I follow you?” For the rest of my life, maybe?
He turns and looks at the ocean over his shoulder. “Are you going to bring your boyfriend?”
“Friend,” I correct. “We haven’t done anything kinky or—you know what? That’s irrelevant. I’m single. A virgin, actually.”
I close my eyes as I slowly die inside. A virgin, actually?
Seriously, Bridget? How much dang saltwater did you swallow?
His blue eyes sparkle as he looks at me over his shoulder. He ducks under a huge green leaf without looking, like he knows every inch of this island off by heart.
I try the same slick move, but the leaf drags across my face.
“So, do you have like a house or something?” I ask as we walk under some tall palm trees. I’m looking up and marveling at the beauty of them. There are coconuts everywhere, which is great for food if this feral muscle man can get them open. By the look of his big chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s able to crush them between his pecs.
“A house?” he asks as he looks at me over his shoulder again.
“Or… something. I don’t know. Do you sleep outside?”
“Sometimes.”
He sleeps outside. Great. So far, this island is getting a one star from me on my Yelp review.
“I’m guessing there’s no bathroom?”
He looks at me like he’s unsure whether to pity me or laugh at me. “Is that a serious question?”
“Ummmm, I guess not.”
I keep my mouth shut as we get deeper into the rainforest that covers the island. There’s a lush canopy of bright vibrant green vegetation over our heads with ropy vines coiled around thick large tree trunks.
“Wow,” I whisper when I see all of the colorful exotic birds darting from tree to tree, singing their beautiful exotic songs to one another. They’re so vividly bright with every gorgeous dramatic shade of color I’ve ever seen.
I spot an iguana the size of my forearm on a branch and hurry a little closer to my new friend. It’s crazy humid in here. I can almost taste the air on my tongue. The smell of all these plants, trees, and soil is overwhelming to the senses after two days at sea, but it smells good. I like it. It’s like walking through the botanical gardens only it’s free and there are no annoying tourists taking pictures of every single leaf.
I realize how parched and dry my mouth is when I hear the faint burbling sound of a creek nearby. Once I hear water, it’s all I can think about.
“Is that freshwater?” I ask, my throat suddenly feeling like it’s coated in sandpaper.
“Follow me,” he says with a wave.
He pushes through some tall lush plants and I eagerly follow him. The sound gets louder. My mouth gets drier.
“I can drink that?” I ask, my eyes the size of satellite dishes when I see the water running along, looking so delicious as it curves and flows over smooth rocks.
“It’s freshwater,” he says as he watches me. “Drink up.”