THE NEXT WEEK WE FALL into a routine. It helps distract from the fact that it’s now been over two weeks without a sign of anyone else or rescue. The worst part is the routine lures me into this false sense of security. I wake up in the morning and the fear that used to grip me when I realize where I am is no longer there.
Over dinner, I find myself looking into East’s laughing eyes glinting at me in the firelight and wonder if it would be so bad if they never came for us? I have no one waiting for me. I don’t have a job and all my “friends” were just colleagues I no longer speak to. The only person who would miss me is marooned with me.
I blink and look back at my portion of our little island feast. During another one of my foraging trips, I was able to find some oysters and crabs. Once I figured out how to dig them out, we had protein with our fruit.
“What’s up, sad face?” East asks.
I shrug, not really wanting to confess my selfish thoughts. He’s such a good person, a selfless person, at least with me. All my initial impressions of him were wrong. All that matters is what we do and how we act now.
“I’m fine,” I tell him and even slap a smile on my face to prove my point.
He continues to eat, considering me before putting down his giant leaf we’ve been using as plates and moving to sit next to me.
“They’re going to find us,” he promises.
I shrug again; there’s nothing to say to that. He’s so hopeful and I don’t want to remind him that they give up searches fairly early in these situations. I mean, realistically, how long are they going to look?
“They will,” he growls, forcing me to look at him, and all at once I’m angry.
“How can you have such hope?” I snap at him.
His dark eyebrows slam over his eyes and he looks at me incredulously. “How can you not?”
“Whatever.” I throw my food on my plate and sink my hands into the sand, gripping it and letting it cascade through my fingers.
“My brother will never stop looking for me, even if everyone else does. I would never give up on him, so I’m not going to give up on myself.”
“What a luxury that is,” I snarl, throwing a handful of sand between my feet as I get up.
“What is?” he pushes, following me.
“To have someone who gives a shit! I have no one looking for me. No one. This is all I have, and every day that passes I’m starting to be fine with it.”
East grabs my arm and swings me around. “You don’t want to be saved?”
I rip my arm out of his grip. “Of course! I don’t know. What would be the point? I don’t have anyone waiting for me back there. I’m by myself. It’s been nearly seventeen days, East. Seventeen!”
“I can’t believe you’ve given up!” East shouts, getting in my face. “The Taylor I know—”
Unrelenting rage explodes inside and I shove him away. “You don’t know me! You don’t know a fucking thing about me, East! We were strangers before and we’ll be strangers after. Stop trying!”
“You’re wrong,” he says quietly, and it’s too much.
I look up to the stars to prevent the tears from falling. I don’t even understand why I’m so upset, not really. I just—I just wish he’d stop. Stop being so wonderful, stop hoping, stop pushing me to hope…
“I know you. I know you better than anyone else,” he continues.
I snort, wiping my eyes, and glare at him. “You know what I tell you and you know I get lost easily. That’s all you know.”
“Wrong again.” His voice whips at me. “I know you never give up, despite wanting to. Even now. I know you won’t give up. I know you saved my life, you feed us, and you helped build this little home for us. I know you gave up everything you had in order to feel something after your father died. I know you still mourn him, very late at night, when you think I’ve gone to bed and can’t hear your cries. I know you always have a smile for me, even when you’re hurting inside.”
He pulls me into his arms for a hug, whispering against my hair, “I know you’re scared. And I know that you’ll get up every morning despite it. You’re not a quitter, Taylor. You’re the strongest person I know.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life.
“But you’re still wrong. Someone does care for you, someone would never stop looking for you if you got lost.” He pulls back and frames my face with his hands. “You have me. You’ll always have me. We’re a team.”
I hug him again. A team. Friendship. We’re friends. I stifle a sob and pat his back to signal for him to let me go. Wiping my face, I nod behind me. “I’m just going to go for a little walk. I need to clear my head.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I wave it off. “Not far. I just need some space.”
I pat his shoulder. What a friendly thing to do.
What are you thinking, Taylor?
I glance behind me to see he’s still standing where I left him—just a dark shadow lit up from the fire behind—and it hurts. No more. I can’t let my emotions get the best of me anymore. Especially for a guy I barely know, one who wouldn’t give me a second glance if we were on the street. I’ll be his friend. Hell, I’ll be his best friend, but first, tonight I need to be the girl falling for the guy who saved her life.
The next morning, I wake up to the rhythmic sound of scraping and turn over to see East using the knife to sharpen the end of a long, slender piece of wood.
“What are you doing?” I sit up groggily. I didn’t make it back until late last night and still ended up lying across from East, staring at the sky as my mind refused to let me drift off to sleep.
East grins at me. “I’m going to try spear fishing.”
I scoop my hair off my neck and shoot him a disbelieving glance. “Are you turning into Tarzan?”
East laughs and it makes my lips tilt upwards despite the heaviness of last night. East’s laugh should be illegal. It’s throaty and deep, like he laughs from his belly, and it’s always full-bodied. His shoulders continue to shake and he uses a hand to swipe the hair that’s grown so quickly out of his eyes.
“I wish. I’m going to try to get us more protein. How does fish sound for dinner?”
“Amazing, if you can do it,” I taunt, lifting a brow.
His lids lower and his grin turns into something other than humorous. “You doubt me?”
“I’ll always doubt the pretty little rich boy playing wilderness man.”
“Oooh.” He gets up slowly and uses his finger to test the now wickedly pointed spear he’s fashioned. “Those are fighting words. Want to make a bet?”
Loving how playful he is this morning, I dig my toes into the sand and smile up at him. “Sure.”
“If I get a fish, you have to clean it.”
“Deal. And if you don’t, you have to find the biggest jackfruit you can and haul it back here.”
East extends a hand, pulling me to my feet when I place mine in his. He yanks hard and I fall into his arms, yelping in surprise at the full-bodied contact. “For some reason, Taylor, I thought you’d wager something else.”
My breath stalls in my throat at his words and heated expression. “Like what?” I internally wince at how breathy I sound, but his sexy, annoyingly confident face is nearly touching mine. All it would take is a slight tilt of my chin and we’d be kissing. A needy whimper tickles my throat and I clear it before it escapes. “Don’t answer that.”
East’s smile turns into a knowing grin and I detangle myself from him. I pat his arm and reach down to grab the knife from where he left it in the sand. Pulling my hair off my neck, I grimace as it sticks.
“I need you to do something before you go off playing the hunter,” I tell him, running my fingers through my hair. It hits the middle of my back and weighs a ton.
“Hmm?” East grunts as he watches my fingers intently.
“Cut my hair?” I try to hand him the knife but he backs away, scowling.
“No way,” he growls angrily.
My brows furrow in confusion. “Why not? Please, I want it to be as neat as possible. No need to look any more wild than I already do.”
“I’m not helping you cut your hair off.” He backs away again, arms crossing over his chest.
“East, come on.” I roll my eyes at his pouting and try to hand him the knife again.
“No!”
“Why?” I snap, annoyed.
“Because!” he yells back.
“It’s my hair, I can do whatever I want with it.”
“Because I love your hair,” he admits begrudgingly, shutting me right up.
I exhale loudly through my nose and try not to soften. The idea that he likes something about me that much—“That’s flattering, but it’s heavy, dirty, and makes me sweat. I’d appreciate you helping me. Please.”
Looking anything but happy, East sits down in the sand and points to the spot in front of him. Smiling, I hand him the knife and sit down, giving him my back. “Just to my shoulders, ok? Plenty left for you to fawn over, weirdo.”
I feel him lift it away from my neck and run his hands down the tail before sinking his hands into it. My eyes roll in pleasure as tingles cascade from my scalp down my back. It feels wonderful to have him play with my hair. Hell, it feels wonderful to have someone touch me, period.
“It’s so thick,” he whispers to himself, and I fight desperately not to lean back into his arms. “Just to the shoulders.”
I nod and sit up as straight as possible. The tugging on my hair makes me wince, but I refuse to make a noise. He quickly braids it and I’m suddenly desperate to ask how the hell he knows how to fashion a braid, but he’s already cutting it and I do not want to break his concentration.
Soon he’s cut across the ends, and I feel almost lightheaded from the lack of weight and the warmth I feel from his proximity. I hear him set down the knife in the sand and then he’s running his fingers through my shoulder length hair.
“Feel better?” he asks, his breath tickling my neck and I shiver, giving him a nod.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and he places a small kiss to my back, shocking the hell out of me.
“I’ll be back,” he says quickly, getting to his feet and grabbing his spear.
Before I can say anything else, he’s stripping down to his black boxer briefs and diving into the ocean. I look behind me and find my long braid lying in the sand, the knife sticking out of the sand next to it. He used some hair to tie off both ends and I decide to keep it. Maybe we could use it for something.
I watch him for another few minutes before getting to my feet. “East!”
He looks back towards me, dark head bobbing in the gentle waves.
“I’m going to get firewood!” I point behind me and see him wave.
Twirling the ends of my new hair, I wonder briefly how uneven it is and dismiss the moment of vanity. Who cares what it looks like? I reach behind me and palm the spot where he kissed, just below my neck. Am I wrong? Does he feel the same thing I do?
Does it matter?
Trying my best not to read into it, I head back into the now familiar trees and gather up as much firewood as I can.