Adrift

by K. M. Galvin

  In the morning, I make us breakfast and build the fire back up. Then I take the hour-long hike to get more water. By the time I return, East’s eaten and resumed his dogged attempts at getting off this island. He’s made several SOS signs out of rocks and debris all over the island. He’s made a giant pyre, hoping maybe someone will see the bright light or smoke from a distance.

  I let him do whatever he needs. At least he’s no longer despondent. God, that first day. He barely acknowledged my existence. I shook off my melancholy, instead turning all my attention to taking care of us and ignoring my own pain. Whatever I was feeling could only be a small percentage of what he’s feeling. After all, he has something to return to.

  In the late afternoons, I gather more food, whatever I can find—and luckily the storm knocked a lot of coconuts and jackfruit to the ground. Unfortunately, all this fruit really messes with our stomachs. I need to find protein to bolster our diet. I know that means going back out into the ocean with East’s spear.

  This thought is plaguing me today. I can feel the need for protein in my bones. East left hours ago to go do God knows what. I shake my head, muttering, and find his spear by his stuff. He left his shirt off again and didn’t bother grabbing the hat I made him to protect his eyes.

  I huff and roll my eyes. You can’t be mad at him. He’s going through something. Lord knows you’ve pulled your share of shit since you’ve been together and he’s always had your back.

  Hefting it in my hands, I measure the weight. It’s not too heavy, I think, and give a practice throw. It bounces of the sand and goes wildly to the left.

  Welp…

  Can’t be great at everything. I giggle at myself.

  Maybe he doesn’t throw it like a javelin.

  Picking it back up, I position my hands slightly wide apart and practice stabbing. Ok, this could work.

  Stabbing it into the sand, I chuck my pants so I’m in my black cotton underwear and knot my shirt under my breasts. I refuse to go without protection from the sun. I look down at myself, raising a brow; what a little wild woman I’ve turned into.

  Shaking my hair out of my eyes, I head down to the water, closer to the big rocks. My guess is crustaceans and smaller fish feeding off the algae on rocks would be there. Also, it offers protection from predators. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Thankfully, the water is incredibly calm this morning, gentle waves lapping the beach, inviting me in.

  Wading into the warm water, I wish badly for some water shoes and do my best to avoid walking on anything that can cut me. When I’m about waist high, I look back to the beach and wince at how far out I am, but at least it’s not too deep.

  Right? Right.

  Raising my arms, the spear’s pointed end down, I wait, ignoring the strain in my arms and the stinging of the saltwater on my cut thigh.

  For over an hour I hold this position, when finally I see movement out of the peripheral of my left eye. My first couple attempts yield nothing, and I’m frustrated and really goddamn hungry.

  Turning so slowly that I cause no movement below my waist, I focus on the little lobster scurrying right towards me. I bite my lip so I don’t squeal; it’s disgusting and its giant claws are aiming right for me. I raise the spear high and bring it down as smoothly and quickly as I can.

  Sand flies up from where the lobster and my spear are, obscuring my view so I raise the spear and let out a yell when I see that I got that little fucker. I raise it above me, cheering and feeling like the most badass person around. I turn around to head back to shore and halt abruptly when I see a clearly pissed-off East standing at the water’s edge, hands on hips.

  Ugh, I can feel the glare all the way from here.

  No, you know what? Screw him. He doesn’t get to be mad at me. He’s checked out; I’m the one keeping us alive while he OCDs all over the island making SOS signs and trying to chop down trees with a fucking knife. Like he has any idea how to built a raft.

  I school my face, not wanting to argue with crazy, and wade through the water. When I’m a few feet away from the glowering brute, he decides he’s done waiting and takes the spear out of my hand, then throws me over his shoulder. My stomach nearly upends itself when it smacks into his shoulder and I slap his back, uncaring at the clearly sunburned skin. I hope it hurts, the ass.

  “Let me down or I’m going to throw up all over your back,” I demand.

  “No,” he says shortly, his voice so tight I wonder how he spoke at all.

  “East—”

  “Shut. The fuck. Up,” he bites out, and I gasp in indignation.

  “Hey! You can’t talk to me like—ahh!” I yelp as he swings me in front of him and I stumble backwards, my balance off center. Before I can right myself, he’s flung the spear into the ground and is in my face.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he yells, veins straining on his neck, eyes wild.

  Taking a couple steps back, I say, “You need to get a grip and stop getting in my space. If you want to have a conversation, fine, but stop trying to intimidate me.”

  “Oh, I’m going to get in your space, Taylor. You’re lucky I’m not putting you over my knee for pulling a stunt like that!” he spits out, and I gasp.

  “Excuse me!” I shout, pissed as hell now.

  “What the hell were you thinking going out there with no one to watch your back?”

  Fine. Fine, he wants to do this now? I can do this. Mentally throwing off the gloves, I move into his space and am extremely satisfied when he takes a couple steps back.

  “I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking we needed a better diet than just the fruit I’ve been collecting. I was thinking my partner out here has gone off the deep end with no concern for not only himself, but for me. I was thinking I couldn’t count on you to help out, so I’ll have to do it myself. You’ve checked out since the day after the storm and I get it, East. I’m sure it’s hard, but when my health starts suffering because you refuse to chip in or take care of yourself, I figured it’s time to start making some executive decisions around here.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to lose—” he cuts himself off, clearly realizing his mistake.

  Stupid tears fill my eyes. “What? I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone? East, I’ve lost every single person in my life. How do you think I ended up on that boat in the first place? I was screaming inside and was desperate to hold onto life, even if it wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself. You want to see your family again? Take fucking care of yourself.”

  Done with this, I reach down for the lobster and return to the fire, dropping it into the water I had boiling before I left.

  “I need some space,” I tell him, refusing to look at him.

  “You’ve had nothing but space,” he says quietly, guilt obvious.

  “You’ve been taking up this whole island with your grief, East. I’ve not been away from you ever. I’ll be back tonight,” I tell him, shrugging my shorts back on. “Don’t come looking for me. Enjoy the fucking lobster.”

  I take off towards the small stream we gather our water from, never looking behind me. His face is the last thing I want to see right now.

  By the time I return, night has fallen. I move through the woods, the light of the moon my only guide, and walk out to our beach, our fire in the distance my beacon. It’s amazing how different tonight is to the first night I was out here in the dark. My eyes have adjusted now and I move with much more ease.

  I’m full-on island girl now.

  And I wonder…

  I wonder, if given the choice, would I choose this life? My only worries are about the most basic things. I feel closer to my father out here then I ever did back home in the city. He loved the wilderness and being outdoors. I find myself recalling more times with him out here. The way the sun casts itself on water, making it sparkle, or the music of the trees swaying in the wind. It all sparks memories of him.

  I don’t miss anything back home. I have nothi
ng to miss. Being out here, I found more than what I had. But it’s not a choice, and East needs to get off this prison in paradise.

  When I’m close enough, I make out East’s figure crouched by the fire, feeding it. He looks up and meets my gaze across the flames and I wonder if he knows I’ll do anything for him.

  He stands as I draw nearer and moves around the fire to meet me. With no hesitation he pulls me into a tight hug and after a moment I relax into his embrace.

  He nuzzles my hair and kisses my temple, his arms flexing with the obvious need to crush me to him, but he lets me go when I pat his back.

  He takes my hand, still silent, and motions for me to sit down. Curious, I do as he wishes and watch as he brings me a leaf filled with lobster meat, fruit, and a small coconut to drink. I take it gratefully, starving and thirsty. Looking around, I notice he’s cleaned up our camp and as I take my first bite he sits down next to me, playing with my hair.

  “I’m so sorry, Taylor,” he says with soft sincerity, and I turn to look at him. Heartbreak and guilt is plain on his face; all I can do is nod. I’d already forgiven him hours ago.

  He cuddles me, watching me eat, and the silence coupled with the intimacy should be awkward but isn’t. He’s seen me at my absolute worst, he’s nursed me back to life, we survived together, and I feel closer to him now more than ever.

  I tilt my head to look at him and notice a different expression has replaced the pain filled one. Setting my leaf down, I frame his face and go with my instincts. Closing the distance between us, I place a gentle kiss on his mouth and smile softly when he gasps.

  He keeps his hands to himself while I kiss him. I rake my hands through his longer hair, tugging gently, and lean back.

  “I want to feel you,” I whisper softly and watch the flames flicker in his gaze before he blinks and gets up, extending a hand to pull me with him.

  He leads me back to our shelter, unhurried, content to let the tension build—and it does. The wind tickles my sensitive skin; the feel of his hand gripping mine with the light dancing off his muscled back is enough to make me pant.

  When we reach the shelter, he kneels down and gently tugs me to my knees as well. Turning towards me, he grabs the bottom edge of my shirt, still knotted, fingers tickling my skin as he drags it up to take it off.

  Goosebumps pebble my skin, now visible to his sensual gaze, and I bite my lip, unwilling to make a sound or demand he move faster. The quiet between us is too fraught to interrupt with demands.

  His fingers play with the straps of my bra so I reach behind me, unhooking the clasp, and watch his face as I bare my breasts to him. East exhales roughly and moves his hands from my shoulders to cup my breasts with no hesitation, and the confidence I have watching those hands shake is as intoxicating as the lust between us.

  I arch into his hands and bring my hand to his ass, gripping it tightly before pushing his shorts down in order to palm him skin to skin. He growls at my dominance and leans down to suck at the skin over my pulse. I take this unspoken permission and finish undressing him completely, aroused to find he’s not wearing his boxer briefs.

  I kiss his pectoral right over his heart and taste his skin. Salt, sweat, and East seduce my taste buds and I lave his skin up to his neck, giving his pulse the same treatment he is giving mine.

  East curses softly under his breath and gently moves us so I’m lying underneath him. He settles his weight between my legs, arousal lining up perfectly where I need him. He leans down, keeping most of his weight off me, but I try to pull him closer, loving the feel of someone I’ve wanted for a while so near.

  He brushes my hair out of my eyes and I blink sluggishly at him, drowsy with lust. I want to say it so badly, can feel the words tickling the back of my throat. I draw him down for a kiss instead. His beard, stiff with the salt of the ocean, itches my face. Something that should be unpleasant, but it’s not because it’s him.

  I let go of his hair to slip my underwear down my legs and moan loudly when we’re finally skin to skin, no barrier between us any longer. His fingers glide between us and he palms my curls, rubbing my lips together, effectively teasing my clit. I cry out his name and he chuckles softly in my ear.

  “So wet for me,” he says wondrously, and I have to bite my lip to keep from saying something sarcastic. Apparently he is very unaware of his effect on me.

  “East, I need you,” I whimper, moving my hips until his fingers glide between my lips and enter my warmth. I sigh in contentment at being filled and rock myself against his hand.

  “Fuck, Taylor,” he groans in my ear and rocks his erection against my thigh, the hardness digging into my skin.

  I can’t wait to feel him stretch me inside. To feel that fullness I’ve lacked for months.

  “Please!” I cry out, nearing my orgasm but unable to get there on my own.

  “Taylor,” he whispers as he removes his fingers and lines up his cock against me.

  I look into his eyes and gasp at the naked emotion there. All this time, I never considered…

  “Ah!” I exhale in a rush as he enters me fully in one clean stroke. My breasts ache and I palm them, arching my body as he withdraws slightly only to thrust again. His movements are infuriatingly measured, clearly not in any rush to end it.

  I move in time with him, the only sound around us our frantic breaths and skin smacking against skin. I tilt my lips up, demanding a kiss, and he meets me there instantly. Our kisses before were slow and sensual, but this one. Jesus, this one…

  It’s all tongue and teeth and barely restrained aggression. I can feel the restraint in his taut back, the way his hips flex and clenching of his fingers in my hair. He’s holding back.

  “East, fuck me,” I demand, and he blinks his eyes open, still unsure. “Don’t hold back. I need you to remind me this is happening, that it’s real.”

  He kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose, and my chin before sealing his mouth back over mine in a quick, open-mouthed caress. “It’s real. You have me totally. I’m yours.”

  For now, I think, but bite the words back.

  He starts pounding into me harder, tiny grunts escaping from him, and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I feel the rush of wetness between us, my body ripening as he pushes me towards climaxing.

  I dig my heels into the sand, desperate to gain purchase as my body spins out of control. I grab his hair, yanking his mouth back to mine, and I sob a breath as I’m pushed over, my muscles clamping hard against his cock. East grunts loudly, seating himself all the way inside me as I come around him. When my body relaxes in euphoria, East resumes his thrusting, chasing his own release.

  It takes him no time and he withdraws, hand gripping his arousal as his come lashes my stomach and thighs. Collapsing beside me, he pulls me against his side, uncaring of my slick body as he pets my hair and nuzzles into my neck.

  He sighs my name again, but I’m too tired to move. Sex narcolepsy taking hold of both of us, we drift off to sleep, the world finally calm around us.

  IT’S AS IF THE SEAL was broken last night. East’s affection flows freely over the entire night and today. If I thought for a moment he didn’t want me like that, he’s doing his absolute best to convince me otherwise. For my part, I feel more relaxed than I have in ages. All that sexual tension has an outlet and if it were up to me, we would never leave the shelter.

  It’s scary how content I feel with so little. I’m happy here and I feel guilty every morning I wake up refreshed and every night I go to sleep with a smile on my face. I’d like to believe East thinks it’s from the orgasms; if he doesn’t, he won’t say. I’m guilt-ridden enough as it is without sharing these thoughts.

  East still looks for ways off the island and has his eyes on the sky more often than not. He’s the only reason I wish for us to be rescued. But I know that’s as far as this goes. He has an entire family, a life on the other side of the country. Just because we’ve fuc—

  “What are you thinking about so hard over ther
e? You haven’t touched your food,” East interrupts my thoughts.

  A blush steals over my face and I lower my head to hide, shame eating away at me. “Nothing.”

  East leans over and kisses my neck. “I bet I can guess.”

  My breath catches in my throat and I lower my leaf before getting up. “I’m going to get more water.”

  East’s eyes track my movements intently. “What’s wrong?”

  Chill the hell out, Taylor; you’re freaking him out.

  I shake my head and lean down to kiss him, pouring all my turmoil into it. He responds eagerly, hands sinking into my hair to pull me onto his lap, but I stand up.

  “I’ll be back,” I tell him, grabbing the pot.

  “Ok,” he says hesitantly.

  The normal trek to the river takes almost twice as long as it usually does. I may be dragging my feet. Cursing under my breath, I walk along the path through the tall grass now clearly marked from our many trips. My feet find the safe places to step without me having to look first. Everything that was once foreign is home to me now and it’s killing me because I love him.

  “You didn’t have to make things so awkward,” I berate myself.

  I need to tell him what I’m feeling. He won’t be mad; we’ve been here so long of course I’d get used to it. It’s not like I’m sabotaging things in order to stay.

  I’m constantly gathering twice as much wood as normal in order to feed both our campfire and that pyre monstrosity on the beach. I listen to him at night, making plans for all the things he, Henry, and Carter will do when he returns. Then I cry silently after he’s asleep at the fact my name is never mentioned in his future plans.

  It’s crazy to think we would have a future off this island. Everything’s different in this bubble. We never would have met if we both weren’t on that yacht.

  Some might call that fate, Taylor.

  I snort at that. “More like a happy accident.”

  The rocks become smoother under my feet, the trees more lush, and I round the bend, clearing the tall grass—and there’s the river. Who would want to leave this? It’s so beautiful here.