Aaron
The first thing I notice when I open one eye is the stars—a little bit dimmer than how I remember them.
Letting my eyes open fully and focus, the next thing I notice is what could be a coconut tree just a few feet away.
That whole coconut bit with Macy must’ve gone too far, because for a second I consider the possibility of a rogue coconut slamming into us.
Us.
Was it a dream?
It feels like one, but it’s not.
Turning my head, I see Macy peacefully sleeping next to me.
Under the stars.
On an island only we inhabit.
I knew this week was going to be unpredictable; and if I just rolled with it, some incredible fucking shit would happen.
And I was right. I’m certainly glad I fucking rolled with it—but I never expected it to be this incredible.
Even if I were suddenly taken by a real coconut-phobia for some reason, I’d resist the urge to grab Macy and flee from the danger.
This island is just too peaceful, and this moment is just too perfect. One of her legs is still lying over the lower half of my body. Any movement will disturb this living still frame of bliss.
The sound of the waves lapping at the sand—combined with the semidarkness around us—makes life seem pretty fucking perfect right now. If I were to suffer death by coconut, I’d die a happy man.
More ideally, though much less plausibly, I could press pause and let this moment stay exactly how it is forever.
I can honestly say I’ve never felt this afterglow after fucking a woman. But then, I suppose, Macy’s not just any woman. She’s one of a kind.
And I should know.
Just twenty-four fucking hours ago, I was staggering like an undergrad spring breaker through a fucking hotel corridor. I don’t even know what I was thinking or what the fuck I was doing, but I never would’ve predicted where I’d be now.
Usually, I know exactly what I’m capable of, and I don’t stand idly by while life takes its course.
I do my part to make things happen.
This time, I’m going to have to thank life or the universe or whatever, because I couldn’t have even imagined things ended up playing out here.
“Morning.” She smiles and pushes herself up onto her elbow.
My index finger moves toward her and pushes her stray hair back behind her ear. My hand lingers on the side of her face for a wonderfully long moment.
She’s so damn hot. I feel my cock stir with a desire already flickering deep within me.
“Is breakfast ready?”
I laugh.
“I’m afraid, my dear, we’re fresh out of everything.”
Macy’s eyes grow big.
“Everything? Are you sure?”
She lets her eyes tour my body as most of her concern deflates.
“Well,” I say and lean a little closer toward her, “maybe not everything.” I kiss her, at first soft and gentle…and then harder, my tongue forcing entry and finding hers to dance and duel.
She melts into me.
“Okay, so I guess that’ll keep me going for,” she says as she looks skyward, “a few minutes.”
We both laugh.
And then we just lie there and look at each other. I don’t want this to end, but I know it must as the breeze picks up and I feel her start to move.
She pulls away from me, quickly retrieving and rummaging through her bag. When she reemerges, she’s holding her mobile.
“It’s dead,” she says and holds the device toward me.
If getting off the island’s the primary concern right now—as it technically should be—Macy’s on the right track by checking her phone.
We were both on the wrong track by never turning them off, but I’d like to think that was because we were both so immediately distracted by each other.
Or it was just a fucking oversight on both our parts. But I dig mine out from its pouch, knowing full well what I’ll find.
“Mine’s dead, too, Mace,” I state matter-of-factly, staring at the lifeless black screen.
“So, we’ve got no food, no phones, no two-way radio, and no way to communicate with anyone from civilization,” Macy recaps. She’s almost as calm as I am, but not quite.
“Sounds like you’ve got a good understanding of your situation and the world around you. So many people lack that these days.”
Macy nods. My eyes are fixed on her, the way her head tilts slightly to the left as she’s thinking.
I study the way her eyes take on a slightly dreamy look. And I take note of the way her hands play with the sand.
She picks up a handful, lets it run through her fingers, and then repeats the process. Around her, where she’s been working like this, is a deepening hole and rising pile.
I could stay here for a good long while, with no clock and no contact with the world, forgetting about time while watching Macy play with sand.
If she wanted, I could join in—we’d have plenty of time to build sandcastles and whatever activities would come after that.
“Well, that’s where things are at.”
She’s looking at me. I’m not sure if she’s seeking reassurance or if she’s merely agreeing with what I’m saying.
But I don’t think her patient tone’s going to last much longer.
“I guess I could take a look at that motor,” I say and push myself into a sitting position.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do right now?” Macy comes up next to me.
“If I can’t get it running, there might be other options. But I’m starting there.”
She’s hugging her knees. “Couldn’t you hold off on that a little longer? I mean, you know, till…” Not finishing her sentence, she looks straight at me, almost challenging me with her stare.
I can’t tell if this woman’s joking. But either way, I’m going along with it.
“And what do you suggest we do?” I take one step forward in the sand, leaning slightly and waiting patiently for her answer.
She shrugs. Her hands are still picking up sand and letting it run through the fingers.
“Oh, I don’t know. Between the two of us, I’m sure we could figure something out.”
In pretend shock, I throw my arms up.
“Macy, I can’t believe what you’re suggesting.”
With wide, innocent eyes, she returns my gaze.
“What? All I’m saying is, we should think of a couple more possible ways to get out of here first...but you’re right, actually. Try fixing the boat first.”
Macy doesn’t break her stare. But I’m now very familiar with the way she looks when she’s holding back a laugh.
Macy keeps fucking surprising me. Even if she’s not up for more fun times on the island—like the times we had last night—I do want to see what she’ll throw at me next.
As much as I hate to interrupt the moment, I need to start making things happen so I can get us back to St. Maarten, and we can enjoy the rest of our vacation fling.
I quickly push myself from the sand; Macy gets up beside me. As soon as she’s on her feet, she starts contorting her body into what I think is a yoga position.
“You okay?”
She nods, head between her legs, one arm up in the air, and the other pointing at the ground.
“A little stiff, that’s all,” she replies without changing position.
“Okay, I’ll look at the engine and see if I can get it going.”
I trot to the speedboat. It looks like it’s in good shape, with hull intact.
First thing’s first, I try starting the motor.
As I do, I think about what would’ve happened if I did this yesterday, before we decided we were stranded, and the motor started.
We would’ve left the island, and last night wouldn’t have happened.
I honestly didn’t think to, but maybe we were both eager to stay here for a reason.
And it’s a moot point, because the motor doesn’t start.
It seems fucking dead.
My eyes search the area.
There’s not much around, but I can think of a few potentially useful objects I already have at hand.
For starters, I’ve got an empty plastic bottle.
And the one credit card I took with me.
“Let me guess,” Macy says, walking up behind me. “It’s fatal, and we’re stuck here forever.”
I turn to look at her. She’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Never fear.” I hold up a rock I’ve picked up.
She furrows her brow.
“A rock? What’re you planning to do with it? Crack open a coconut?”
I stroke my chin in consideration.
“Not a bad idea. Have you ever tasted coconut water? It’s supposed to be pretty fucking good for you.”
“Trouble is, I don’t think the one and only tree on the island actually has a coconut left on it.”
“Well,” I reply and lean back over the motor, “that explains why we’re still alive.”
Macy snorts then laughs, not holding back as she remembers my stated opinion on the fuzzy tropical hazards.
“You shouldn’t share your vulnerabilities so freely. Now I know the deepest fear of a powerful Hollywood producer. Who knows how I’ll decide to use it?”
With my head stuck in the tiny outboard motor and a credit card pressed between my lips, I can’t really respond. But if her imagination’s running wild with the power she could have over me, I don’t want to interrupt.
And I might be able to make some progress with some different tools. I emerge and start searching around the boat intensely under the dim predawn light.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Her tone of voice lets me know she’s got little to no confidence in my abilities.
She of little faith.
Macy’s skepticism will soon be gone, as I’m pretty sure I’ve located the problem. Now if only I could get my hand in this tiny gap…there, nearly got it.
“Aaron?”
I turn to look at her.
“Sorry, a bit busy, darling,” I mumble and focus back on the engine.
Just a bit more adjusting and then a little whack with the rock, and we should be back in business.
Without explanation, I walk back around the boat and turn the engine on.
It coughs, it splutters, then comes to life.
Macy looks at me with an incredulous expression.
“How? Why? I don’t understand.”
“Resourcefulness. Thank my grandfather. He taught me all about this stuff. A rock, a bottle, something paper-thin like a credit card—that’s enough of a toolkit to do almost anything.”
Macy smiles pleasantly. She’s just happy the boat’s running.
“Thanks, Gramps,” she adds.
For a moment, I stare wistfully out to sea. Unlike my parents, I love talking about the old man, often at the drop of a hat. It reminds me of the good which may still be in the world.
He’s been gone for a few years, but he was the real fucking deal. People like that are few and far between.
“Of course, watching thousands of hours of MacGyver helped, as has having an imagination and being able to stand on your own two feet.”
Macy says nothing.
She’s simply staring at the boat, and me.
“Ready to head back to our luxury resort?”
She nods, and I help her in. After giving the boat a healthy push from the shore, I climb aboard and start captaining.
With the sun about to rise, navigating’s not too hard. I recall where it was in the sky when we left yesterday and where it set yesterday.
Luckily, it seems like St. Maarten’s an easterly direction. I keep the bow pointed at sun’s golden rays. In no time, the familiar western coast of St. Maarten’s comes into view.
As we glide effortlessly over the water, I think back to the perfection of last night.
I can picture her perfect body, her eyes—so brilliant even in the depths of nighttime—and her blazing smile as she let herself give in to wild abandon.
The memory lingers in my mind, clearer than any camera could hope to capture it, as we travel back to civilization.