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I run over and practically dunk my entire head into it.
Heavenly.
I open my mouth and let it pour down my throat. It covers my face, my chest, my lips. It’s cold and refreshing and I could live here forever just drinking and drinking and drinking.
When I can’t possibly drink anymore, I sit down and take a deep breath. Then, I drink some more.
He smiles as he watches me taking deep breaths as I stand up. “I feel much better. Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
He walks a few feet and plucks something yellow off a tree.
“Is that a mango?” I ask, perking up when I see it in his hand. It’s huge. The size of a small football.
“They’re amazing,” he says as he hands it to me. “This island has the best fruit on the planet.”
I dive into it, ripping the skin off with my teeth to get to the soft ripe interior. Juice pours down my chin as I devour it. I’m probably looking like a barbarian, but I don’t care. It’s too damn good. I don’t stop until I’ve cleaned all of the edible parts from the pit.
“Where do I put this?”
He smiles. “It’s part of the rainforest,” he says. “Throw it on the ground.”
“Oh, right.”
I toss it into the vegetation and wipe my sticky hands on my wet shorts.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Bridget Casey.”
God, those smoldering eyes. They’re otherworldly. I’m not usually big into the feral look, but he’s somehow pulling it off.
“What’s your name?” Does he even remember his name?
“Carson Maye,” he says. “I haven’t said those words in a long time.”
“What did you do when you were in the real world?” I ask.
“This is the real world,” he says as he looks at the rainforest all around us. I keep my eyes focused on him. “Survival. Living off the land. This is how we’re meant to live. That life out there is the fake world. But to answer your question, I was the founder and co-owner of a tech company. We made computer chips for gaming consoles.”
“Oh. That’s impressive.”
He chuckles. “And now I spearfish and collect fruit in paradise.”
I watch him as he rips a tiny vine off a tree and then pulls his hair back. He expertly ties his hair into a ponytail like he’s done it a thousand times. He probably has. His vivid blue eyes really pop like this and I can’t seem to take my eyes off them.
“Are you still hungry? I have some food at home.”
“Really?” I ask as we keep walking. “What kind of food can you find on this island?”
“All kinds,” he says as we step over some thick roots snaking along the ground. “There’s an abundance of food here—fish, fruit, prawns, crabs, lobster when I’m lucky, wild turkeys, wild boars, seaweed, and a few vegetables. Onions, kale, and yams. You won’t go hungry. I’ll make sure of that.”
I’m really happy this guy showed up before me. I’d probably have to resort to eating sand if I was stuck here alone.
“My home is just up here,” he says as we walk up an incline. The rainforest suddenly stops and we step into a huge clearing. It’s gorgeous around here. Huge smooth rocks line one side like a wall and there’s a stunning view of the beach and the turquoise ocean below.
The ground is a mix of huge hard rock and packed sand. A few random palm trees offer some shade and there’s a homemade hammock hanging between two of them.
There’s a stone campfire in the middle with large rocks to sit on and a—is that a ball with a face drawn on it?!
It is. It’s one of those red dodgeballs with a smiley face drawn on it with a Sharpie.
“So, this is where I sleep and cook,” he says as he walks in. “I have a fire here and a hammock to sleep in—“
He kicks the ball as he talks and his muscular leg practically sends it into orbit. It sails into the blue sky and disappears into the rainforest below.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I stare at him. He stares back.
“Because it kind of looked like you had a Wilson-type friend on that rock…”
He shrugs those big shoulders. “Nope. I’ve never seen that ball in my life. So, over here we have the kitchen area,” he says, quickly changing the subject. “I made cooking tools over the years. I like to roast my fish over the fire. It gets crispy and juicy. You’ll love it.”
A wave of cold suddenly surges through me and I have to sit down. He looks at me with concern as I plop down on one of the large rocks and stick my head between my legs, hyperventilating.
“Are you okay?” he asks in that deep voice.
I suck in a huge breath as I look up at him with wide, frantic eyes. “We’re stuck here,” I say as I look at the homemade cooking tools beside the fire. “I mean, we’re really stuck here. You live here.”
