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Even though my eyes are squeezed shut, I know it’s daytime. The blazing sunshine forces me to face what I did in the harsh light of day.
I kissed Saint, and I liked it. I was even tempted to take things further, but he was the one to slam on the brakes. I should be thankful that he did, but I’m not. I’m left with this cloud of confusion hanging over my head, and I hate it.
My feelings for him should be clear cut, but they’re not. They never have been. And now that I’ve kissed him…I’m in way over my head.
And when his fragrance slams into me, sending my body into hyperdrive, I realize just how much so.
“Ah???, wake up!” The urgency to his tone has me forgetting my woes.
Springing upward, I rub the sleep from my eyes and ignore the throbbing in my temple. “What’s wrong?”
“Look what I found.” He holds up long strands of thick vine while I cock my head to the side, confused. “It’ll be strong enough to use as a rope for the raft.” To emphasize his claims, he yanks at the strands. I’m expecting it to snap in half, but it doesn’t.
“Oh, my god!” I jump up as this is good news. My first instinct is to hug him because I know how hard he’s searched to find something, but I refrain from touching him.
He seems to be in sync with my thoughts as his excitement soon settles. “Sorry to wake you.”
“No, it’s okay. I was awake anyway. I was just prolonging the inevitable.” When his Adam’s apple bobs, I clarify, “Nasty hangover. Do we have any Tylenol left?”
His shoulders visibly depress. It seems he has no interest in discussing what happened last night. His aloofness angers me, but I can’t force him to speak about what we did.
“Yes, I’ll grab some.” He goes to turn, but I stop him dead in his tracks.
“Don’t worry,” I quickly say. “I’ll get it.” I can’t deal with his hot and cold behavior. I need to remember who he is to me, no matter how good a kisser he is.
He seems surprised, but soon recovers and he nods once. “Okay. I’ll be back later. I’ll bring back what I can carry.”
I could offer to help, but I think we both need some alone time.
Making my way to the first-aid kit, I gulp down two painkillers, wishing it would help ease this pain in my heart. Saint’s footsteps announce his departure, only adding to the heartache because he seems happy to pretend last night didn’t happen, so I guess it’s my turn to do the same.
Day 31
BEING STRANDED ONa desert island, you’d think one could enjoy the serenity of being left alone. But the quieter Saint became, the louder my furious thoughts raged.
It’s been five days since we kissed, and although I wasn’t expecting Saint to transform into a cuddly teddy bear, I was expecting we would at least discuss what happened. But it seems he’s content to forget it ever occurred.
I should too, but I can’t. Every time I get within five feet of him, the memory of his lips pressed to mine assaults me.
One thing is certain, however, and that is we’re both eager to get off this island.
Saint was right. The vines he found were strong enough to use as a rope, so we busied ourselves with building our raft. It’s a tough, laborious job, but we’ve got nothing but time. We are close to finishing it, which leaves me with the question yet again, what happens when we do?
We are sitting around the raft, putting our knot tying skills to good use. I’m at one end while Saint is at the other—a perfect analogy to how we co-exist.
“We are days away from finishing this,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Awesome.” My reply lacks excitement, but he doesn’t address my apathy because he’d rather ignore it, just like our kiss.
Why does it irk me so much? I shouldn’t care, but I do. I’ve known him for thirty-one days. I knew Drew for roughly forty-two. Depending on how long we’re stuck here, I’ll probably have spent more time with my kidnapper than I did with my husband.
How messed up is that?
Saint senses my restlessness. “Go take a walk.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I quickly snap, tying the rope firmly.
Saint sighs heavily. “Ah???—”
