by Alice Ward
“What happened to using your bare hands?”
He winked at me, making my insides flutter despite the circumstances. “Thought I’d give the fish a fighting chance.”
“Wow, you’re so good to them. Okay, ninja warrior,” I muttered. “You go, manly man you.”
He flexed his muscles and stood with his new weapon, trying to look fierce.
It might have worked if his pants hadn’t decided at that moment to slide down to his knees.
I stifled a giggle with my hand. “I hate how easy it is for men to lose weight.”
He dropped the pants to the floor and stepped out of them. It really wasn’t fair how damn hot he looked, even in a survival situation, standing there in nothing but his boxer briefs. They showed off his package in a way that made me thirsty… not for water, but for his cock.
He was unshowered, unshaven, and unclothed, and… hotter than the Malaysian sun. It might’ve been that I’d lost my glasses, but I didn’t think so. I probably looked like a bushman, considering my hair was sweaty and gross, I hadn’t shaved my legs in three days, and my nose was Rudolph-red and peeling from lack of sunscreen, even though I’d done nothing but hide under the tarp.
He strode to the edge of the boat and looked over. “I’m not losing weight. I lost my belt.”
That was an odd thing to lose. “Where?”
He exhaled as he inspected the tape on the spear. “It got stuck around the neck of the guard who was guarding my cell.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t asked more about his escape, because he’d been quiet about it. I knew that he’d gotten a knife wound from it. I knew it’d affected him. How could you hurt a person like that and not be affected? My smile faded. “You killed him.”
He swallowed and looked out at the open sea. “Yeah. I did.”
He leaned farther over the edge of the boat and frowned. I frowned, too, because the blood was soaking through his bandage again, painting a sinister red smile on the last of the gauze.
He jabbed the spear over the side of the boat. Again. And again. Then he cursed. Tried again. Cursed some more. Stroked his beard, which was now well on its way to really being a beard.
“It appears,” he said slowly, contemplatively, as he studied the waters below, “that this is not as easy as it sounds.”
Funny. It really hadn’t sounded all that easy to me. “You mean, fish are actually thinking, feeling creatures who want to evade capture? Who knew?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. It had to have been sore from the way he was bending.
My eyes trailed to the gun. “Why don’t you try to shoot them?”
That earned me a laugh. “Actually, I thought about doing just that, but with the open sea, I’m not sure it would work.” He scanned the horizon. “Besides, if the bad guys show up, I thought it might be a good idea to save the bullets.”
Goose bumps rose on my skin despite the heat. I stood up and scanned the horizon too, even though it was just a blur. I returned my attention to the homemade spear. “Do you want me to try?”
He gave me a doubtful look. Then he went right back to it.
It incensed me that he thought I was so worthless. I stomped my foot.
“Really. I mean it,” I said, reaching for it. When he didn’t hand it over, I sighed. “Look, I know I’ve been more of a hindrance during this trip than I’ve been a help. I mean, I can’t hotwire a boat, or perform kung fu on would-be captors, or paddle—”
“Well, you’re were excellent at crashing the Defender.”
That took the steam right out of me, and I plopped into a chair. “Right,” I dropped my face in my hands and peeked at him from between my fingers. “Anyway. Give me the chance to redeem myself.”
He shrugged and handed me the spear. “I guess. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Oh, there were plenty of bad things that could happen where me and sharp objects were concerned. The worst being me accidentally stabbing him with the spear, a remote possibility, but definitely plausible considering my track record. More likely, and the thing I was most worried about, was that the spear would slip from my hands and fall into the sea, never to be seen again.
I wrapped my hand around the oar and walked to the edge of the boat, peering over.
There were fish there, plenty of them, swirling through the placid sea in a rainbow of colors. Most were very small, but they seemed to like hanging out in the shade of the boat. I leaned over, finding it better if I laid on my stomach, the spear in the water.
I jabbed at a few of them, quickly understanding what Wyatt meant. Whenever I jabbed, the fish turned into little ninjas, evading the knife. I tried this again and again, quickly using up all my energy.
Every time I stabbed, the less I cared about being a vegan. I was going to get one of these little suckers and eat it whole, smiling the whole time, or die trying.
Frustrated, I let out a loud, “Gah!” and sat up, kneeling.
As I did, an idea came to me.
I gripped the oar lower, closer to the blade. Then, I found a fish swimming near the boat’s hull, slowly dragged the spear inwards, and then pinned it against the side of the boat. Then I stabbed it with the point, trying to impale it on the spear. My first few tries failed, but on my fourth attempt, I actually managed to get one.
“I got one!” I shouted excitedly, practically screaming as I dragged it inside the boat. “Look. Wyatt! Look!”
He’d been nodding off under the shade, but he awakened when he heard my cries of victory. He climbed to his feet and lumbered over to me, grabbing the spear and inspecting the silvery, round fish on the blade. It looked smaller now, out of the water, but still!
“My first caught fish! I’m blind as a bat, and I still speared the sucker! Right through the heart! Now, who’s the ninja warrior?” I couldn’t help trash-talking him. “Look who caught the fish! Me. ME! Not you!”
He just stared at me. “I thought you were all…” he waved his hands out in front of him, “save the poor animals.”
I loosened the fish from the spear, and it began to flop all over the inside of the boat. He scooped water into one of the holds under the seat and managed to wrangle the slimy sucker into his hands again and drop it into the hold to keep it cool before we had a chance to eat it.
“If you catch about twenty more of those, we might actually have ourselves a meal,” he muttered as he studied the fish, flopping around in the hold.
“Oh, I can!” I said, pumped. I couldn’t stop hopping up and down like my skirt was on fire. “You just watch!”
He placed the spear back in my hand. “Go for it.”
I couldn’t help but notice his expression. There was amusement there, but not pure enjoyment — his eyes weren’t sparkling like they usually did when we sparred. Finally, I’d done something he couldn’t do, so maybe that was it. But something told me he was in a lot of pain, which worried me. “I will. Just watch and learn from the master.”
He pointed back toward the shade. “I’m just going to go back and take a nap. You wake me when dinner’s ready.” He walked back to the shade, picked up his jacket, and tossed it at me. “Wear this, kunoichi. You’re not going to be able to slip in and out of the shadows if you look like a stoplight.”
I looked at my shoulders. I hadn’t noticed before, but stoplight was an understatement. It didn’t hurt yet, but I eased into the jacket, knowing it would, tonight. I’d had enough bad, blistering sunburns as a teenager to know what I was in for.
A couple of hours later, I found him sprawled under the tarp, his chest stuttering as it rose and fell, an expression of anguish on his face as he slept. When I woke him, he woke with a start and looked around, swallowing hard.
“You have a nightmare?” I asked, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face.
“Looks like I’m still in it,” he murmured, sitting up and swabbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“I caught seven fish,” I announced proudly.
A half-smil
e dimly lit his face. “Hey. That’s good.”
“We have to take the scales off, right? Do you know how to um, descale them?”
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out. We’ll have to eat them raw, though. Once we get the scales off. You know. Sushi.”
I figured. I didn’t expect we’d build a bonfire on the boat.
I crawled next to him with the first aid kit and redressed his wound, this time using the old sack that I’d washed, since we were out of gauze. “I think the bleeding is slowing,” I said. “That’s good.”
He studied the wound as I carefully swabbed away the dried blood, then looked up into my eyes for only a second before shifting to look out at the ocean. I waited for him to say that it felt better, but he didn’t.
“Does it still hurt really bad?”
He shook his head. “It’s all right.”
I knew that was a lie. Funny how you could know people your whole life and never read them, but I’d only known Wyatt three days, and I could already see what was going through his mind. It hurt, and he didn’t think it was getting better.
We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the fish with the blade. It was a ridiculously small meal, when all was said and done, since most of the fish ended up being refuse. But it turned out that neither of us were very hungry. When we were done with our meal prep, we lay down on the seat cushions and set the fish out like a picnic on the bottom of the boat as the sun began to sink in the sky. Eight pieces of slimy fish flesh between us.
“This right here would be fifty dollars a plate in Manhattan,” Wyatt said, lying on his uninjured side.
“They’d probably decorate it. With wasabi, or wrap it up in seaweed.”
“Hey, seaweed we got,” Wyatt said. “But it could be too salty.”
On cue, both of our eyes trailed to the bottle of water. We’d each drunk two capfuls today, and we were due to have another one with dinner.
We took turns, sucking down the slimy, salty pieces of fish. I tried not to gag. Not because they were fish, and I was vegan, but because my stomach was now permanently unsettled because of its emptiness. And this meal only felt like the appetizer.
The main course, and what my body really wanted? Those few drops of water.
Afterward, Wyatt poured us a capful each. The first time, we’d toasted to good luck. Now, we were both so desperate that we drank it immediately, fearful of spilling even a drop. I sucked it down, but it seemed to seep into my mouth without even hitting the back of my throat. It wasn’t enough.
“That was good,” I whispered, looking into my empty cap. “I feel better now.”
He frowned. “Don’t lie. You look like shit.” And before I could stop him, he took my cap and poured a second helping for me.
“But—”
“Drink it,” he said, his blue eyes boring into mine. “It’ll rain tomorrow.”
How can you possibly know that? I could’ve protested, but I was too tired, and the water was too tempting. I sucked it back. “Thank you. You can have the extra capful tomorrow.”
“We’ll be rescued tomorrow,” he said, and I appreciated his attempt at certainty.
Blurry specks that I knew were stars were beginning to pop out in the wide, wide sky, the sun melting into the horizon. Without the sun, it was getting colder, fast. Wyatt stepped into his pants. I pulled the jacket over my shoulders, but even so, I was freezing.
I laid down on the bed we’d made of cushions and life vests and hugged myself. Wyatt knelt next to me. “Sunburn?”
I nodded, teeth chattering.
“Let me see.” He lifted the jacket and peered at my shoulders, wincing. “Sun poisoning. You’re blistering.”
I knew that. “I’ve done it before. It’s not a big deal.”
“What? You’re all about protecting animals, but you don’t want to protect yourself from skin cancer?” He reached for the near-empty tube of antibiotic ointment.
I pushed away from him. “Wait. Don’t. That’s for you.”
He motioned me back. “You need it too.”
“No,” I snapped, my voice hard. “It’s just sunburn. You took a knife, Wyatt. Don’t.”
He put the ointment down. “All right. Come here.”
I studied him warily.
“You’re shivering. Come here.”
I did. I crawled into the crook of his arm on his uninjured side, molding my body against him. It was still cold, but not so bad. In fact, if the past two days hadn’t been so terrible, I might have even thought I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on earth.
“I’ve never seen so many stars,” I murmured, tilting my chin to the brilliant sky, squinting and wishing the dots above me weren’t so blurry.
“Yeah. It’s pretty fantastic,” he breathed. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Best vacation you’ve ever been on, right?”
I snorted.
We laid together in silence, listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. When I narrowed my eyes really tight, things became a little clearer, and I counted the constellations I could find: The Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Orion’s belt. I didn’t know any more even if I could have seen them better. They were all brighter and easier to find than ever before. It was easy to think that this was just a romantic date between two lovers, which made me think of home.
When was the last time I’d been on a romantic date? I couldn’t even think. I was rusty when it came to romance.
But Wyatt wasn’t. I remembered all those articles I’d read beforehand about what a player he was. “Have you ever been in love, Wyatt Watts?”
I expected he’d answer with a snide remark, but he didn’t. “No.”
I turned to face him, genuinely interested. “Why?”
“Same old story. Never met the right girl.”
I took a deep breath, wondering if I should say it. Then I decided, what the hell? If he got angry at me, I could always push him overboard. “I read articles that you’re a total player. That you’re never with the same woman twice.”
“You… read articles about me?”
I nodded, realizing too late that maybe that made me look like a stalker. Totally busted. “Had to research the scumbag of the earth, you know.
He made a little laughing sound, but I could tell it bothered him. “It’s complicated. I suppose I’ve never met a woman that I felt that connection with. I’m not against love. It just hasn’t happened for me.”
“I read that you refuse to be with the same woman twice.”
He stiffened. “Wait. Where’d you read that? I refused?”
I couldn’t remember. I shrugged. “Is it true?”
“Well… I don’t know.” From the way his defensive tone suddenly died, I knew that it was. “I don’t know if I refuse. I just haven’t been interested, I guess.”
“That’s interesting. I’m the same as you.”
He seemed surprised. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “But in my case, I really do refuse. I can’t be with the same man twice. And have them falling for me? Gross. I hate clingy men. Cramps my style.” I pretended to study my fingernails like a true diva. “Since I’m so highly sought-after, I feel it’s only polite of me to spread myself around as much as possible.”
He laughed. “Is that right?”
We both fell quiet, during which time I realized we were breathing almost in unison. After a moment, I said, “I wanted to thank you.”
He let out an uneasy breath. “For what?”
“Are you kidding me? For everything. For saving my life, about a dozen times.” Memories flooded in, all the terror we’d been through. It felt like a thousand days but had only been three. He’d stayed so calm throughout, my rock. I couldn’t have done any of this without him. A lump grew in my throat. “You know what would’ve happened to me back there, if not for you.”
“If not for me, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he mumbled. “And well… I don’t want to�
��”
I rolled onto my side and looked down at him. In the moonlight, I could see the creases of worry on his forehead. He’d never shown it, but that look on his face told me everything. He’d been just as scared as I was.
I was hit with the inexplicable urge to touch him, to comfort him. I reached out and ran a finger gently down the side of his face, tracing his brow, his temple, to his cheek.
He studied me the whole time, his eyes liquid fire. “Atlee…”
I dipped my head, and my lips grazed his.
He sighed, lazily twirling a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Isn’t this going to cramp your style?”
“Maybe. But I won’t alert the press if you don’t.”
He swallowed with effort, then his fingers slid over my jacket, tangling in my hair. He gently nudged my face toward his, and raising his head slightly, captured my mouth with his. He opened his lips, and his tongue slid between mine.
I’d never had a kiss take my breath away, quite like that one. We were both dirty, sweaty, disgusting, and neither of us had brushed our teeth in ages. Ordinarily, I’d have been grossed out by the whole thing. But this — the act of being near him, with him — showed me that none of that mattered. He might have had faults, but I didn’t see a one. Because it was him… everything was good. So good.
I stroked my fingers down his jaw, and he pulled me to him, kissing me harder. “I want you,” he murmured. “Damn, I want you so much.”
I wanted him too. “But, your side.”
He took my hand and moved it down his chest. Then lower. “My side hasn’t affected this.”
He was right. He was hard as steel beneath my palm.
We stared at each other, and although I could barely see his face, I understood. We were in trouble. He, with his wound, was in very serious trouble. And this might very well be the last human connection either of us got.
“Then you’ll have me.”
I groaned softly as he flicked his tongue into my mouth, rolling his hips toward me. I squeezed him through the material of his pants, and he shuddered with need. But there was a tension in his movements, a deep concentration.
