Summer by summer, p.6
Summer by Summer, page 6
“I’m kidding.” He took the mask off his head and flung water from his hair, then rubbed an open hand down his face.
“Thank God. Get out of the water, because it’s making me nervous.” The late afternoon sun was still hot, but less so than before. The breeze had cooled and the island was preparing to settle in for the evening. With no rescue plane all day, we’d need to settle down as well.
“I was kidding about wrapping the rope around me. I really am going after the anchor though. It’s heavy. We could use it to break open coconuts or use it to hammer a stake into the ground. It could be a valuable resource for us, Summer.” The mask went back on his head and slid over his eyes. Before I could argue, he winked with one goggled eye and dove.
It took him three tries to get the anchor to the surface. On the second try, I noticed a group of fish jumping out of the water a couple hundred yards from where he dove. On the last try and just as he breached the surface, fighting to swim with the anchor in one hand, I saw the reason why the fish were so active.
Horror sucked the air from my lungs. “Bray!” I screamed, the sound burning my throat as the gray, triangle-shaped fin punctured the surface of the water.
Bray glanced behind him then swam toward me, arms and hands slashing the sea, legs and feet pumping, throwing arcs of water as he moved. The fin drew closer but Bray kept up the pace, his body chewing up the distance to me and safety. The pounding of my heart grew louder and louder in my ears, stealing the oxygen from my body for each pulse until I thought I’d pass out. Every muscle in my body tightened as if I could help propel him. The distance between him and me was closing, but the space between him and the shark closed faster. Then the fin went under water, and having watched Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, I knew what that meant. “Bray!” It was a scream and a release of all the fear that had built inside me. I was still screaming his name when he reached the rocks.
My hands plunged into the water, closed around flesh and yanked. Bray was slick and breathing hard, but just as he made it out of the water, the shark broke the surface, turned, and headed back to the dark blue. I clung to Bray, my hands fisting at his back, my face pressed against his heaving chest. Fatigued arms came around me and held me. Tension slowly released, my muscles melting into a rubbery mass. For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. The sun was riding lower in the sky now, casting an orangey glow across the ocean.
I listened as Bray’s breathing slowed and closed my eyes. “Don’t ever do that again,” I said in a small voice.
“I dropped the anchor.” His words rumbled against my ear.
I pressed closer to him, clasping my hands together at the small of his back. Bray was strong, solid. More so than I would have given him credit for. I was preparing to squeeze, but remembered his cracked ribs. “It must have been awful, carrying that stupid anchor.”
“Not so bad.” One of his hands, flat against my back, moved slightly — a twinge — but the sensation caused me to tighten more, cracked ribs or not.
“Well, you’re not going back after it,” I assured him.
We unwound from each other slowly. Bray flicked the wet hair from his eyes. “Come on. Let’s carry the cooler to the sand and see what all we’ve got.”
CHAPTER 5
Bray
I hadn’t really allowed myself to get scared. I needed to protect Summer, and that emotion overrode all others. Until the shark. I’d seen the absolute terror on Summer’s face and knew what must be behind me. Like an idiot, I’d wasted precious seconds turning to confirm. But, hey, seeing is believing, and maybe that’s what saved my life. A gray fin coming at you can really put you into high gear.
It was getting late and bugs were out. Their buzzing songs filled the early evening with more racket than we’d heard all day. It pressed on us, a noisy reminder that we didn’t belong here. This was their territory. That’s when I noticed the giant palm. “Summer!”
She rushed over and drew a quick breath as I tilted the edge of the palm leaf toward her. There in the center of each leaf was a small reservoir of water.
“Go ahead,” I told her, and she bent at the waist, holding her hair from her face. She sipped the first water we’d had. I held several more leaves open for her.
“You next,” she said and held the leaves for me until we’d drained every single one. They tasted a bit earthy, but it was water, and we needed it desperately.
“Do you think there are more of these?”
“I don’t see any others. Any plant could hold some water after a rainstorm like we had, but the sun has dried most of it.” I gathered some brush from the edge of woods while Summer wound the rope around her arm. The bugs were loud at the edge of the forest. I smacked my neck, obliterating a mosquito. They didn’t seem to be bad on the beach, so I dropped the brush near the water’s edge and hoped there would be a lighter in the first aid kit.
We’d only had a little water in nearly twenty-four hours, and this was becoming my main concern. Summer’s lips were cracked and bleeding in one spot. Her skin was burned, and with all that moisture cooked out of her, she had to be thirsty, though she didn’t complain.
“I never heard a boat or a rescue plane all day.”
“They may be searching other areas. We’ll have to assume that we’ll be here for the night.”
She closed her arms over her body, wrapping in as tight of a ball as she could. We sat on either side of the cooler. I pulled the first aid kit from it, moved the cooler aside, and sat the kit gently where the cooler had mashed the sand into a tabletop. “Here goes.”
Inside we found basic first aid. “We’ve got bandages, Neosporin. Oh, and lip balm.” I held it out to Summer.
She dusted off her index finger and used it to smear balm across her chapped mouth. “Aaahhh.” She rubbed her lips together and closed her eyes. “You next.” She reached to hand it back to me, but paused when she noticed my sand-caked fingers.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll get some later.”
She started to put the lid back on then paused. Her green eyes met mine, tentative, but also determined. She swallowed, swiped her finger into the lip balm again, and leaned toward me. Summer had to scoot closer to reach my mouth, but did so, her hand steady and moving in. She didn’t look at me, just concentrated on her finger. A half-moon nail was visible above the fingertip that came closer and closer to my lips. Something in me wanted to lean too, and close the distance faster, but I stayed still. Her fingertip finally made contact and slid with a gentle stroke from the center of my bottom lip outward. Velvet smooth skin pressed a little harder as she neared the edge. In the closeness, her eyes were flecked with tiny bits of gold. I couldn’t look away. When she encountered a rough patch on my lip, she flashed a frown and rubbed back and forth over it, pressing harder as she went. Then she dove into the lip balm again. This time she started on the outside corner of my top lip and brushed the smooth, waxy balm over me. Her finger was cool, and her fingernail scraped against the skin just above my lip, causing my neck to break out with goose bumps and my mouth to feel like it had been hit with a mini electric current. My eyes drifted closed for half a second because nothing had ever felt so good.
Summer replaced the lid to the balm, but didn’t move away. “I’m sorry you lost your anchor.” Soft words came from her mouth, complete with hot breath that feathered over me.
“It was probably stupid to go after it.” And it was stupid for me to react to Summer’s finger against my lips, but a little part of me had. Just like that little part of me loved sharing the underwater world with her. Summer was nothing like the girls I usually went for and that made her . . . a bit intriguing.
“You couldn’t have known about the shark.” Again, she tilted close so she could see every crack in my lips, her words warm across my skin, eyes scanning as if making sure she hadn’t missed any spots. My chest squeezed at the nearness of her mouth to mine. She smelled like the sea and life and promise. It was a mistake to be this close to her. Because something primal stirred in me, shooting through my system and wrapping tightly around the lowest part of my stomach. Suddenly, my senses hit high alert. A few moments ago, Summer had been my ally. The person I was shipwrecked with. We were equal. Both committed to helping one another. But now, with her gaze scraping across my lips, Summer was a woman. Even her scent had changed.
Rather than continue to think about what this new awareness meant, I concentrated on the words she’d spoken. “I should have known about the shark, Summer. I know not to swim at dusk, because that’s when sharks are feeding. Dusk and sunrise. Also, my leg was cut, and I would have been bleeding all that time in the water. It was a stupid mistake. I’m sorry.”
The sun was setting, but in the dim light remaining, her eyes smiled. “It’s okay. We’re alive.”
I had to chuckle. I wasn’t much of a partner or protector. All I’d accomplished was getting her lip balm. Great; when they find us dead, our lips will be moist and strawberry flavored. From now on, I’d be more careful. What if the shark had gotten to me? That would have left Summer on this island alone until rescue. “In the morning, we have to find water.”
She swallowed, and her eyes drifted inland where the canopy of trees overhung vegetation as dark as the water behind us. We were face-to-face, two tiny specs on an unforgiving island. Alone.
I dropped my gaze. My fingers fumbled through the kit because suddenly there was a wash of red across Summer’s cheeks, visible enough to notice even in the failing light. I chanced a glance at her. She stared at her fingertip as if it had had a mind of its own and had tracked the path to my lip without her consent. Summer was embarrassed. She replaced the lid and dropped the balm into the kit, then quickly clasped her hands in her lap. I hid my grin and forced the emotions that were flickering in me aside. It would take all my energy to keep us alive until help came. Why hadn’t they come already? The entire day I kept expecting to hear a rescue plane. But nothing. I didn’t want to scare Summer, but our situation was quickly becoming dire.
“Why didn’t we see a rescue plane all day?” Summer asked. Had she read my mind?
“I’m not sure. Tomorrow we’ll get some kind of signal set up. Honestly, I figured they’d have come by now. I know my dad. He isn’t a man who waits around. But I guess it could take time to secure a plane or helicopter.” I shrugged and focused on the kit. “Look, needle and thread. In the morning, we’ll stitch up that rip on your sneakers.”
She nodded and examined the small pair of scissors. She pointed. “Tweezers too. We can perform a very tiny operation.”
“I was hoping for a lighter.”
She dove into the kit until her fingers closed around a little plastic square. “Matches!” Her elation quickly dwindled when she held up the closed package and water dripped out of it. She tossed it on the sand.
“Still worth trying.” I opened the pack and inspected the contents. It was soaking wet except for one corner. One match head was lighter in color than the others. I carefully removed the match. We gathered the brush, knowing the match may only stay lit a second. Before I could strike it, Summer grabbed my hand and closed her eyes.
“Please, God. We need this to work.” Her eyes popped back open and she nodded.
A tiny flame burst, then fizzled out. But an ember dropped and lay glowing on the bits of brush we’d collected. It felt like an eternity before it took, both of us staring down and scared to breathe. Thin lines of smoke curled up, and soon a nice tear-shaped flame emerged.
One small obstacle conquered. But I knew I’d lie awake beside the fire smelling Summer and her fresh scent and wondering what to do to maintain my sanity.
These islands were unforgiving.
Being stuck on one with someone like Summer? Impossible.
Summer
It was still dark when I woke up the first time. I had curled up as close to the fire as I dared. Bray slept on the other side of the flames. He must’ve stoked up the fire because it burned brightly and with more flames than I remembered it having at twilight.
I leaned up on one elbow to look out over the water. It was a shadowy, empty abyss, with waves moving toward us then retreating back into the dark loneliness. I’d always enjoyed the sound of the ocean. But not now. Not here. It was a bitter reminder of where I was. Shipwrecked on an island.
I tried to not question why a search plane hadn’t come. But with the ocean on one side of me forcing cool air up over my body and with the firelight on the other side of me, the question rolled over and over in my head. Where was the rescue plane? Wasn’t it standard to send out a search party when people disappeared on the water? Surely they hadn’t given up on us.
Watching Bray throughout the day, something had become clear. Like me, Bray had expected a rescue team. But as the day wore on, his attitude had shifted from waiting mode to action mode. He’d said tomorrow we’d have to find water. If he was expecting a plane or boat, he would be staying visible on the beach, not venturing deeper into the island. The weight of our situation caused my limbs to tremble. What if . . . what if . . .
I closed off the sob that swelled in my throat. But another followed. Tears sprung to my eyes. I was so thirsty, I wouldn’t have thought tears possible, yet there they were, blurring the golden flame before me, causing the dancing flames to swell. I lay back down and pulled myself into a ball, drawing my knees up to my chest. The ground moved beneath me, gritty sandpaper sticking to my sunburned skin. And this made me cry more. Silent sobs escaped as I lay there, curled in the fetal position, staring at the fire, and listening to the waves.
Bray’s voice interrupted me. “Hey. Summer, what’s wrong?” Groggy words accompanied the sound of him moving. In an instant he was beside me. He stretched out behind me and gently slid his hand down my exposed arm.
But I couldn’t stop the tears. In fact, they increased as if I’d been holding back, and now a great dam burst, allowing my entire body to react. I wasn’t one to cry. I hadn’t cried like this since last summer.
Bray’s hand against me was warm, littered with flecks of sand, but I didn’t mind. There was body heat. I felt as though I had none of my own, and this realization caused more tears.
He whispered against my ear. I sniffed, wishing I could hold it together. “Summer,” he said. “It’s okay.” One of his arms slid very slowly beneath my shoulder. He turned me toward him. Most of his body wasn’t touching mine, just close.
“I’m sorry, Bray.” It was all I could say. All I could manage.
He tucked my head into the hollow of his throat and stroked my hair. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His words were little more than vibration against my cheek where it rested at his throat. There was strength in his voice.
I sniffed again and tilted to look up at him. In the darkness of only flickering light, his eyes looked black. “I’m stronger than this. I swear.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Pity, maybe? I wasn’t sure. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”
But I did. He didn’t understand. I always had to be strong, because every time I thought I didn’t, the universe proved me wrong. I hated crying. I hated being weak. But that’s exactly how I felt: weak and lost. And all alone, except for a guy who mistakenly thought weakness was somehow okay.
I started to push away from him, but needed my bearings first. I pulled in a deep breath, causing my body to arch. When I did, Bray settled me deeper into his arms. Now, we were touching, and though every warning signal in my mind should have been going off, all I could do was stay there and accept the body heat he offered while exhaustion and hopelessness took turns on my psyche and my eyelids. Soon I found myself drifting off to sleep, tucked between Bray and the crackling fire.
Bray was already up and on the move when I woke. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to focus on him as he hovered over me like some strange, long-legged bird.
“What would you like for breakfast?” Smiling. He actually had a smile on his face.
“Umm.” No mention of last night when I’d had my little crying fit. For that, I was thankful. I pressed my fingertips beneath my eyes to see if they were puffy.
“You can have coconut or coconut. Either one.” He was proud of himself. I could hear it in his voice.
I stretched and tried to wrestle my hair into some kind of order, but it was useless. “Mmm. Coconut’s my favorite.”
“Good choice!” He passed me and bent to tend the fire. “I was afraid you’d already ordered room service.”
I blinked the sand from my eyelids. “Oh, I did. Eggs, bacon, toast, and hot coffee. You’ll have to cancel the order, though. I’d much rather have coconut.” But my mouth watered at the mention of a real breakfast.
He glanced back at me over his shoulder. A half smile tilted his face, and the wind caught and lifted the hair from his forehead. I’d mustered and he was glad. It wouldn’t do for him to be stranded on an island with a crybaby. He turned back to the fire, and I watched him build it up. Knees bent, hunched over the embers, breaking sticks and laying them just so across the flame.
He really was a great-looking guy. But off the island, we were people from different worlds, and his included a steady supply of parties. I knew firsthand what kind of havoc that created. What kind of carnage it left in its wake. No matter how well Bray and I got along on the island, nothing changed who he was. And who he was could be lethal to girls like me. I’d lived that once. With Michael. For Michael, I’d put on a smile and gone to the parties with him until I watched him sink bit by bit. At first, Michael didn’t drink at all, then he’d have a couple beers — by the end, he was getting drunk on a regular basis. And I had no power to stop him. But I did stop going with him.
I walked away from Bray to give myself a little space.
“By the way,” he said.
I turned to face him and noticed the tinge of color on his cheeks.
Bray pointed to a spot that had been cleared, a narrow path through the edge of woods. “I made a sort of makeshift bathroom through there.”
