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“Then wear yours.”
“I’m not traipsing around in my panties. What if rescue comes? I don’t want them to think—”
I shake my head. “You don’t want them to think Princess Paige would lower her standards to have sex with the lowly pilot.”
“That is not what I said.”
“But it’s what you were thinking,” I say.
“No, it wasn’t. I was just, well, how would it look?”
“It would look like we survived a plane crash, and all our clothes were washed out to sea. And if someone wonders if we had sex, big deal. You need to quit worrying about what people think about you. I know your type.”
“Oh, now you’re going to psychoanalyze me.”
“The shoes. The clothes. The designer sunglasses. You care what people see. You have constructed an image you want the world to see, and you make sure that’s all anyone sees. You don’t want anyone to know you’re a normal woman that can be vulnerable at times. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret identity is safe with me.”
“Whatever you say, Dr. Phil.”
Our search of the island is short. It’s what I expected. The island is less than two acres and most of it is rock. Our camp is on the only sandy section on the whole island. We sit down and neither of us talks. We’ve spent the day waiting and nothing has happened. Rescue does not appear to be in the cards.
I pull over the bag and pull out a few options. “What do you want for dinner?” I ask, trying to keep things light.
“How long?” she asks quietly.
“How long for what?”
She looks at me and I can see the fear in her eyes. “How long can we survive once we run out of food and water?”
Lying to her isn’t going to do her any good. “The water is what concerns me.”
“How long, Travis?”
“A couple of days.”
I see the tears well up in her eyes. She nods, swallowing hard as she picks up a bag of chips. “Okay.”
“Hey,” I say softly, touching her hand. “It’s going to rain. We’re in the middle of the ocean. It rains all the time. Every time it rains, we get to live a little longer.”
“And how long can we survive on peanuts?” she says with resignation.
“A few weeks. We can fish.”
She rolls her eyes. I understand how ridiculous that sounds. “Are you going to use your underwear for that too?”
I grin. “Not a terrible idea.”
Night falls once again, casting a blanket of darkness over the island. Paige is lying on her side, the glow of the fire washing over her sleeping features. I lie awake, my mind racing with worry. We don't have enough water to last more than another day. It’s warm in the day and we’re going to be dehydrated in no time. I honestly don’t know if it will rain. The clouds seem to come and go without giving us the precious water we need. I don't want to tell Paige. I have a feeling she'll freak out, and the last thing we need right now is panic.
I stretch out behind her, pulling her body against mine. I'm not used to this, to feeling so helpless and vulnerable. I’m stranded on a deserted island with a woman I barely know, facing an uncertain future with nothing but our wits and determination to guide us. I feel a connection to her, like I have to protect her. She’s counting on me. While I know the crash isn’t really my fault, I can’t help but feel responsible.
My eyes close and I let sleep claim me. Tomorrow, I must find a way to get water. If I have to swim out to the jet, I will. I’m not going to let her die. There must be a way.
In the morning, I wake to find Paige staring at me. "Morning," I say, my voice strained but steady. “Is everything okay?”
“It didn’t rain.”
“I know,” I nod.
