“I’ll have to rinse my shirt before I put it back on. Got any laundry detergent?” I toss the flip flops on the floor and peel off my filthy shirt. Mud is caked on my chest. It’s even in my belly button.
“Oh come on. You can’t wear that shirt again. Possibly ever.” Isla looks horrified at the prospect of my rinsing and re-wearing the shirt. She holds out a hand. “Give it here. I’ll set it to soak, but we’ll have to find you something else to wear tonight. Jump in the shower real quick, and I’ll see what I can pull together for you.”
“Really? Do you have another cool dress like that one that I can borrow?” I lean against the bathroom door frame, admiring her.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline from my close encounter with the cold-blooded monster. But I don’t think so. I think the electric buzz that has me suddenly feeling so reanimated is one hundred percent Isla.
“Sadly, I don’t think my dresses would fit you, but I did bring a few oversized tees to sleep in. And there were some sweatpants in the swag bags,” she says.
“You got gift bags?” My jaw drops. I feel a rogue pang of jealousy. I bet a driver met her at the airport, too.
“I’m sure you will get some goodies, too,” Isla says. “And if not, I’m happy to share mine. There’s plenty to go around. Just please get in the shower quickly? I hate being late!” Her vaguely schoolmarmy voice makes me smile. I’m surprised that punctuality is one of her quirks. I never would have guessed that. If anything, I would have expected her to be the type that’s chronically late. Too dreamy to stick to a grown-up schedule.
“Okay, okay.” I kick off my muddy pants and throw them directly in the trash can. I can feel her eyes sweeping unapologetically over my abs, pecs, and other places. “You don’t have to ask me twice to get out of these clothes.” I hook my thumbs in my boxers watching her face for a reaction. Of course, I have no intention of actually getting naked in front of her. But I like the way her eyes feel on me. It’s an almost physical sensation. Warm and cool at once. I can’t resist meeting her gaze.
Much to my delight, Isla doesn’t look away. She meets my eyes, challenging me. Calling my bluff.
“Oh, you can keep going,” she says. “Take it all off. I’m not easily shocked. My parents are nudists.”
Now it’s my turn to blush.
Isla smiles triumphantly and spins on her heel. “There’s soap and shampoo and stuff in the bathroom,” she calls over her shoulder. “Just shout if you need anything.”
Although lightning fast, the shower is the best thing that’s happened to me in over twenty-four hours. Hot, with great pressure. I lather my hair twice with the coconut-scented shampoo and use a washcloth to scrub off all of the mud. No time to shave, and no razor to do it with, but afterwards I am a new man.
Isla is sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk waiting for me when I emerge in a towel.
“I have this shirt,” she says, holding out a brilliantly tie-dyed tee, “and I made you these shorts.” She holds up a pair of light pink sweatpants that have been cut off mid-thigh.
“You didn’t have to destroy your clothes for me,” I object.
“I didn’t. They were in the gift bag and they were a size xl and bedazzled. She holds up the rhinestone-studded cuffs that she’s cut off. “Not my size or my style. I’m sorry I don’t have any underwear for you. You’ll have to go commando.” She tosses the shorts at me.
“This is the outfit you want me to wear to meet the cast?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I don’t see what other options you have right now,” she says. “Unless you want to go in that towel.”
“Rob did say it was casual,” I smile.
“I’m sure everyone will understand that your luggage was lost. Anyways, I thought tech guys weren’t supposed to be so particular about their clothing,” Isla teases. She checks the time on her phone.
“And I thought artsy, magical types weren’t concerned about getting to company picnics on time,” I say, holding out a hand for the clothes.
She’s annoyingly spot on about me. I am not actually that fussed about the clothes. It’s not what I’d normally choose to wear, but it’s better than the stuff I just threw in the trash.
“Give me two minutes,” I say, “and I’ll be good to go.”
“Great,” she bounces out of the room. I can still smell her though. She’s all over the clothes I’m pulling onto my body. The colorful tee is steeped in her floral scent.
“Hey, Jackson, come out here quick! You gotta see this,” Isla calls me out onto the balcony before we leave. There’s a brilliant double rainbow spanning the horizon over the water. The colors are practically vibrating against the sky; they are so obnoxiously bright. Kind of like my borrowed shirt.
“Let’s take a quick selfie? It’s a wonderful omen,” she says. “Don’t you think?”
“If you say so,” I allow myself to get pulled into her orbit and appreciate how well we fit together. She passes the phone to me to do the honors because my arm is longer.
I take my time, and not just because I want to get the shot right.
isla
