‘Aww, I hope so,’ I joke.
I dig a little deeper in the box.
‘Ooh, coconut-flavoured lubricant,’ I say, reading the bottle. ‘Why does it have to be coconut? We have loads of coconuts here. Why couldn’t it be pizza flavour?’
‘I don’t think there’s much – if any – call for pizza-flavoured lube,’ he replies.
‘Erm, did you not just hear me request it?’ I remind him.
We both stare at the bottle.
‘Are you thinking about trying it?’ I ask him.
He looks at me, his eyes wide.
‘Oh, God, not… sorry – I mean tasting it,’ I babble.
‘I will if you will,’ he replies.
We unscrew the cap and both dab the tiniest bit onto our fingers. Oh, it doesn’t smell good at all.
‘To island life,’ I say, raising my finger like it’s a glass of champagne.
‘To island life,’ he replies.
We clink our fingers then suck them and…
‘Oh, God,’ I blurt.
‘Not nice,’ he says. ‘Not nice at all.’
‘Yeah, I’ll stick to real coconuts, I think,’ I say, putting the bottle back in the box.
‘Maybe pizza flavour really would have been better,’ he replies.
We lie back on the deck, close enough that our arms are touching, and look up at the stars. There are a hundred things I could say – most of them stupid, some of them brave. Things I don’t have the coconuts to say.
He sighs.
‘I’m glad we got stuck together, you know,’ he says softly.
I glance at him. He looks like he means it.
‘Yeah,’ I admit. ‘Me too – I would have preferred it to be on the luxury yacht, but I’ll take what I can get.’
Lockie just laughs.
A beat passes. Then another.
‘You know,’ I whisper, ‘if this were televised, this would be the part where you kiss me.’
‘Is that so?’ he replies.
‘Yep,’ I say, rolling onto my side, propping myself up on my arm.
Maybe I’m drunk. Maybe it’s because we feel doomed. Maybe it’s because we kissed in the game, but suddenly all I can think about is kissing him again. Just… because. Because why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t we just do what feels right when the world has gone to shit?
I inch a little closer, ever so slowly, giving him the chance to meet me in the middle.
