by Matayo, Amy
“There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” he says, surprising me. “Some of us would do better to wait on a lot of things, I’m afraid.”
That statement is weighted, and it’s only then that I realized we’re still holding hands. It has the potential to feel a bit awkward, especially when his index finger begins a slow swirl of my palm. I wait, expecting panic to make an appearance. The weirdest thing of all…
It doesn’t.
“Tell me how it happened.” His soft, encouraging whisper just might kill me. “I told you mine, now you tell me yours.”
I’m secretly thrilled he’s interested, but I roll my eyes to mask it. The way it happened is ridiculous. Hardly anyone’s image of the way a first kiss should happen. There were no white horses, no starlit nights like this one, only embarrassment and a very real desire to die.
“It was a Kiss Cam at a Commodores game. I didn’t even know the guy, and I never saw him again.”
When Liam doesn’t say anything, I look over at him.
He’s trying not to smile, and failing miserably. “You’re kidding.”
I glare at him. “No, I’m not kidding. It was humiliating. The worst part is, most of the people I’ve kissed since then have been equally as bad, unless you count Kirk the cheater who was fabulous, but also a gigantic mistake.”
“Cheater how?”
“He left out a very important detail while we were dating.”
“Which was?”
“That he was engaged.” I face him head on. “To one of my clients.”
“Jerk.”
“That’s putting it mildly. There I am counseling my client about her pre-wedding jitters when out of the blue, she drops her fiancé’s name and profession. I’d like to say I handled it well, but that would require me not admitting to throwing up in the bathroom immediately after she hit me with the news, and our receptionist cancelling the rest of our appointment and all my other appointments for the rest of the day. That happened only the week before this lovely family cruise. So to sum everything up, the last couple weeks have gone just swell for me.”
I’m slightly dramatic in my delivery, and he laughs again. Liam has an odd knack for finding the most inappropriate things hilariously funny.
“If I had known all of this, I never would have jumped on the boat.”
I pick up a handful of sand and throw it on his legs. “Very funny. Now stop laughing.”
He dumps some down my back. “Can’t help it. If I don’t laugh out here, I just might lose my mind.”
I toss sand at his chest. “Touché.”
He throws sand at my head. Before long I’m squirming and gagging on the sand stuck to my skin and on my tongue. “Gross, Liam! You got it in my mouth!” I wipe furiously at my lips and tongue, but the sand won’t budge. I reach for the bucket on the other side of him and take a drink of water, then spit it out on the sand behind me and make a face. “Disgusting.”
“I thought it was kind of cute.”
“It wasn’t cute at all.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, it was very cute.”
It’s the way he says it that makes my laughter die down a bit. His voice is low and thick, like he’s deliberating something. His shoulder brushes up against mine and stays there, hardly the first time we’ve been this close, but this time it feels different. Electric. When I accidently press my leg against his in response, he accidently circles my knee with his fingertips. We certainly are a clumsy couple tonight.
“You know,” he says, “all these bad experiences with kissing gives me an idea.”
“I didn’t say they were all bad.” It’s a weak protest, considering his face has come so dangerously close to mine, and I haven’t backed away.
“Dillon.” My name dissolves in the air between us, and I swallow.
“What’s your idea?”
He hesitates in what seems like an internal debate with himself, then he presses his lips lightly against mine.
At first I don’t close my eyes, just stare at him and wait for him to laugh again, this kissing thing nothing more than a cute little joke to go along with our cute little sand fight.
But he doesn’t. His teeth catch my bottom lip and my eyes melt to a close, goose bumps breaking out against my skin. My brain is swirling with explanations for why this is happening, but when he leans in and moves his mouth, slowing prying my lips open, I can’t come up with an answer so I just go with it.
Liam is kissing me.
I am kissing him back.
This one kiss is better than all the other false starts and half-hearted efforts from all the men I’ve known put together.
I am ruined for kissing anyone but Liam for the rest of my life.
Liam tests me by pulling back an inch to look at me. I fist his hair and tug him back toward me in response. Life has been so boring on this island. No phones. No televisions. No books to read. No fun. This is fun. I’m having so much fun that maybe I’ll never leave. Maybe it will be just me and Liam living here and eating coconuts for the rest of our lives. I would be happy with that. I would. He slips the towel off my shoulder and plants a trail of soft kisses down my neck and shoulder and I’m certain. We don’t even need the coconuts. I shudder as his mouth finds mine again. Our teeth bump slightly as he flicks me with his tongue. He tastes like mint leaves and suntan oil. Why would he drink suntan oil? Then I remember the coconuts and feel silly. Of course, he hasn’t been drinking it. I command my brain to shut up and enjoy the moment…sinking into him and letting him take me in.
A seagull calls above us and we jump apart. There’s so much carbon dioxide floating through the air, it’s hard to tell which one of us is breathing heavier.
“Um…that was my idea.” He runs a hand slowly over his mouth. “Was that okay?”
It was more than okay. I nod, looking over his shoulder and nervously playing with the ends of my hair. Now that we’re face to face, the reality of what we just did is settling around me.
“Why did you kiss me?”
He looks me in the eye for a long moment. “Because no one should have their first kiss at a ballgame and their last kiss be from a guy who’s taking advantage of you.”
“You’re right. Both are memories I could do without. Just…please tell me I won’t look back on this the same way. Girl tells you a sad story and you see an opening. That isn’t what you were doing, is it?”
I shouldn’t have said it; I know that when I see a flicker of hurt cross his eyes. “We’ve been through too much together, Dillon. I’m the last person in the world who would ever take advantage of you.”
I close my eyes and breathe in a quick prayer of gratitude. I can’t handle another inconsiderate man. “I know that. My insecurity strikes at the worst moments.” I feel his lips on my forehead and open my eyes to look at him.
“Old habits die hard, I suppose. But you can trust me, Dillon. I promise.”
I slide my hand down his arm until I find his fingers, then link them with mine and rest them against the sand.
“Thank you.” My eyes lock with his. He slowly brings his face to mine and kisses me again. This time it’s slower and more deliberate, and by the time he pulls back, my legs feel rubbery and my heart pounds like it’s run a couple marathons. Good thing we’re sitting on the sand or I might fall over.
“Want to go to bed and try again tomorrow?” he asks.
“What?” The word is breathy and nervous.
Liam’s smile does all sorts of things to my inside.
“See? You’re cute. I meant sleep. Dillon. Go to sleep. It’s dark. After I throw a couple more logs on the fire there won’t be anything else to do. Plus, I’m tired. Want to go to sleep?”
I grin and look out over the water. “When did it get so dark?” The water rolls left to right like a sea of black tar. So clear in the daytime, so menacing at night. I think of the long night we spent drifting and wonder how we survived it. Four days ago, yet it feels like a lifetime.
�
�Yes, let’s go to sleep.” The taste of Liam’s lips is still sweet on my lips, but it’s been joined by the slightest hint of bitter. What might have happened if we were still on the ship? If we had made it home and had the opportunity to go on a real date…had a real relationship…been a real couple not tied down with the day-to-day tasks necessary for mere survival? This thought follows me for a while…until we re-inflate the raft a bit, situate the palm leaves over our head, and lie down next to each other. It feels more intimate to lie beside him now than it felt last night; close, private, a shared intimate memory between us. His hand finds mine in the dark, and I clutch his fingers. His grip is solid and steady, a comfort that I need. Still, that question hovers in the forefront of my mind, begging for release.
In the end, I can only bring myself to say, “Do you think they’ll ever find us?”
He’s silent for several minutes, so long that I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Finally, he sighs.
“I don’t know, Dillon. I really don’t know.”
“What do we do if we’re stuck here forever?”
“We live the life we’re given and make best of what we have left.”
I know he’s right, and we will make the best of what we have left. But that’s just it, isn’t it?
I don’t want to be just the best Liam has left.
I want to be the best he’s ever known.
CHAPTER 16
Onboard the Ship
“Nothing? Nothing at all?”
The captain spoke into the radio, the coastguard official detailing the flight sent out yesterday at his request. According to the man, they did a fifty-mile air scan of the area where that Ed Sheeran-lookalike had last seen the couple climbing on a boat, taking particular notice of the water and the scant number of larger islands that dotted the ocean. There weren’t many—even the captain knew that. Unlike the two excursion islands Majesty currently used, their original excursion island had been in a sparsely populated area. The private island came first, followed by Cozumel and Belize in that order.
The girl’s mother had been beside herself every second of the last three days, vacillating between departing the ship to join her husband and staying onboard to persuade someone to help. So far and other than that single credit card charge, her husband had come up empty. Once the captain informed the girl’s mother of his attempts to organize a rescue effort, she stayed. A wise decision, one most wouldn’t make. The tendency is to depart entirely and organize one’s own vessels of support—rally critics, notify the press, take it to social media—all things that sound appealing in theory but do little more than stir up emotions in reality. Emotions change things, sure. But now wasn’t the time to demand legislation…now was the time to save lives.
But where was the girl? Where was the guy who apparently left with her?
Why hadn’t the girl’s father found anything? More troubling, who made that credit card charge and why hadn’t there been another attempt?
“Captain, Dillon Hayes’s mother and grandmother are outside again. Do you have any updates for them?”
He ran both hands down his face. It would be so much easier if he could absolve himself of the entire mess. It wasn’t his fault that anyone would be so careless as to go against warnings and regulations, after all. Things would be so much easier if people would simply follow the rules. He’d said that to himself a hundred times already to justify giving up. Not one single time had it actually worked.
But where were they?
“Tell them we sent out a plane, but the search came up empty.”
The cruise director left the bridge, leaving him alone for the moment. His mind drifted back to his own daughter, back to the days when everyone suggested they turn off the machines and pull out the oxygen tubes and just let her go. Her quality of life wouldn’t be the same so what was the point? That seemed to be the consensus among friends and family alike. He’d struggled back then, he and his wife both. Should they pull the plug, should they not? Maybe everyone was right. What kind of life would she have? Certainly not one filled with prom dates and college applications and weddings and babies. Was the trade-off worth it to her? Even harder to admit…to them?
When the day came to make a decision, they opted to give it more time.
The very next day she woke up.
Of course, everyone was right—her life wasn’t the same and never would be. His daughter couldn’t eat or get dressed or even go to the bathroom without help. She would need full-time care for the rest of her life—at first from them, and later from professionals. Everything had absolutely changed.
However, nothing brightened his day more than when his daughter looked him in the eyes and smiled. That part had been unexpected. He thanked God every day that he hadn’t given up on her.
He couldn’t just give up on Dillon yet either. Quitting on people wasn’t in his nature.
Life might be easier if it were.
He heard yelling outside as the woman’s stress raised to a crescendo. He understood that stress in ways not many did, but that didn’t make it more possible to alleviate. His cruise director fired back something unintelligible. The captain was able to make out a few words.
“Do more.”
“Try harder.”
“There has to be another island.”
“Some place no one’s thought of.”
“Do more!”
He had an idea.
A preposterous one. One that might take a bit to carry out seeing that it would require digging up old routes and determining latitudes no one had used in years. It would also entail calling in another favor from the Coast Guard and convincing them to agree despite going against protocol. He would get laughed at for sure. If he didn’t personally know two of the higher-ups, he wouldn’t ask in the first place.
Because the idea was almost too ridiculous to utter out loud. No one would head that direction, not if they wanted to survive. Still, it was worth a shot.
If they couldn’t find the girl there, he would give up once and for all.
CHAPTER 17
Day Five—morning
Liam
The sun is unusually bright when I wake up, and I blink a few times as my eyes adjust. I slept great, better than I’ve slept in the four nights we’ve been here. Weird that anyone could rest so well on a partially inflated raft.
It takes me a minute to notice the raft isn’t what made this night so pleasant. I’m still holding Dillon’s hand. My other arm is wrapped around her waist, her head is tucked into my neck and she’s breathing deeply, still fast asleep. That’s what made it so pleasant.
I desperately need to pee, but I remain still, careful not to move and wake her up. I tilt my neck to study her face. She’s beautiful when she sleeps, just like I imagined she would be. Of course, I’ve watched her every night since we arrived here—Is she still breathing? Is she still with me?—but never with her hand splayed across my bare chest. Never right after we kissed. Never with her breath dancing across my skin like it’s making a home there. I could stay like this forever and be perfectly and completely happy.
The thought startles me. I dreamed about that kiss last night on repeat. It’s all I’ve thought about before and since. Wondering how to make it happen again will likely be in the forefront of my mind from now to eternity, whether our eternity takes place on or off this island.
But I can’t.
No matter what, I can’t kiss her again.
My brother has feelings for her that he’s carried around for the last few years and made known to everyone within a hundred-mile radius. I can’t just pretend his feelings don’t exist. I can’t betray him that way, not with our history. He would see it as yet another slight, unintended or not.
Still, all I can think about is that kiss and how much I want to kiss her again right now. To wake her up with the soft feel of my lips on hers…to run my hands through her hair…to make her my own right here with no one watching…
I sit up.
What a colossal jerk I am for thinking about this at all.
She stirs. “What happened? Is there another storm?”
Her sleepy words unintentionally drip with desire, so I put a few inches between us. It doesn’t help that her hand rests high on my thigh. I doubt she even knows it’s there. When she realizes it, she’ll yank it away.
“There’s no storm. Go back to sleep.”
She sighs long and slow, her eyes closing again. Her hand stays put. Worse, when I told her to go to sleep I gave her a little pat on the head. I’ve spent the last ten seconds playing with her hair like it’s already mine to possess. Her hair is long and silky despite not having a wash or a brush. I tell myself not to touch it, but there’s some sort of magnetic force happening between my hand and her scalp. I can’t seem to stop. So I don’t. I use the moment to take all of her in one inch at a time.
Her bare shoulders are bronzed now, the sunburn having slowly faded over the last few days. They’re smooth and toned. My hand leaves her hair and travels down her neck and shoulder blade. It’s sharp and defined. I run a fingertip across its peak and slowly glide down her back where the ties to her bikini top come together. Best to leave those alone. My breathing becomes shallow as my finger dips to her lower back; It’s soft and smooth, a perfect fit for my hand, an appealing crevasse of muscle and skin. I close my eyes with need and guilt. Would it really be so awful a betrayal to Chad? Is it betrayal when no one knows but me? When there’s a very real possibility we won’t be found?
I wrestle with this thought another minute, a silent battle between my brain and my heart. Everyone knows if given the chance, the heart always wins.
“What are you doing?”
A quiet voice yanks me out of the fight with myself.
My hand is no longer on her back.
I pull it back like I’ve burned it in fire, feeling foolish and stupid and absolutely mortified. If she never speaks to me again, that will be entirely deserved and my fault.
“I’m sorry.”
