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I smiled as I drifted off to sleep. “No one but you.”
* * *
I wokeup to an awful rocking, and for a not-fully-awake-moment, I’d thought I’d woken up drunk.
Drunk, I was not. I was still on this damn boat.
I was alone too.
“Tully?” I called out, getting up.
It was barely daylight, though still overcast, and the door was open. I walked out on somewhat unsteady feet, having to hold on to the wall. I couldn’t see Tully anywhere. I tried not to panic. I couldn’t see any crocodiles, but ugh, the water was rough; fast and uneven waves were rocking the boat. I went to the very back, about to step onto the rickety jetty. Panic started to rise in my chest. “Oh my god, Tully? Where are you?”
“Hey. I’m up here,” he called out from the other end of the boat. Up on the bow, sitting with his feet over the edge like a madman. He was holding a fishing rod?
“Please don’t dangle your feet near the water,” I pleaded. “Crocodiles can jump, you know. Are you crazy? I thought you’d gone overboard and were missing, presumably taken by a crocodile, and you know I wouldn’t know what to do.”
He laughed.
Because of course he did.
“I was going to catch us a fish.”
I looked around, trying to let my face show how displeased I was with that idea. “Oh good. Any bites?”
He laughed louder and began to reel his line in. “No bites. I thought with the overcast skies and choppy water I might have some luck.”
He fixed his line and stood up, walking down the edge of the boat toward me, and I tried not to have heart failure watching him. He walked—barefoot, mind you—as if he were on solid ground and not a thin, narrow railing on a boat that was rocking in rough waters.
I held my hand out to him. “Please get down. You’re scaring me.”
He jumped down, grinning, and he took my hand to look at my watch. “Huh, elevated heart rate. Not my preferred method of raising your heart rate.” Then his eyes met mine and he let out a disappointed sigh. “We forgot to wear the chest strap yesterday during our seventy-minus-one math lesson. We might need a repeat today...” Then he made a face. “Oh, how’s your throat this morning?”
“My throat’s fine.”
“So we can have another math lesson? We both get gold stars at the same time.”
I snorted. “I’m not opposed. As long as you fulfil the promise you made yesterday.”
He squinted at me, confused. “What promise?”
“That you bury yourself in me when we get home and have lube.”
His eyes widened, as did his smile. He palmed his dick. “Damn, babe. We could go home right now.”
“We need to fix the weather box.”
“Fuck the weather box.”
I laughed. “It won’t be the weather box that gets it, I can assure you. Should we have some breakfast? I’m starving.”
He ditched his fishing rod and followed me inside. “No, I’d like to revisit the deep-dicking conversation. And the math lesson.”
I found the container of orange segments, opened it, and held one slice up to Tully’s lips. The boat was rocking so much that I almost missed his mouth. “Oh god, I’d really like to not be here anymore. On this boat, on this island.” I had to hang onto the seat. “The sooner we try and fix the box, the sooner we can go, yes? You mentioned waiting for the tide. Do we have to do that?”
“No, it just means we’ll have to navigate around sandbars. But that’s okay.” He held onto me by the arm. “You okay?”
I shook my head. “I’d very much like to go stand on some solid ground.”
