He searches my face, like he’s making sure we’re on the same page.
‘It could be our last night on earth,’ he points out.
‘It really could,’ I reply. ‘How do you want to spend it?’
I can’t help but bite my lip. That’s the only signal he needs.
He gently cups my face with one hand, his thumb tracing my cheek for a few seconds, like this is my chance to retreat, but there’s no turning back now.
Then he kisses me. It’s not like in the silly challenges or anything we’d do for the cameras; it’s slow, real, and frankly terrifying. I melt into him, wrapping my arms around him, snaking one up his back, into his hair where I can’t resist grabbing it, just a little.
And suddenly everything – and I mean everything – goes quiet inside my head.
No racing thoughts. No panic. No noise at all. All I care about are his lips on mine, and where this might be going next.
I kiss him like I’ve wanted to ever since we met – and all the while I’ve been telling myself I didn’t want to.
Lockie scoops me up and presses me against the cool stone. I wrap my arms and legs around him, like I’m unwilling to let him go. Now that we’re tangled up, I don’t want us to come undone again.
Maybe it’s where we are, or what we’ve been through, or all of it together, but it’s wild. We can’t get enough of each other, our hands and lips everywhere, things getting more frantic by the second. The two of us finally getting together feels like the missing piece of the puzzle. Like I’ve finally found just what I needed.
Eventually, Lockie lies back and exhales deeply. I lie with my head on his chest and listen to his heart thumping in his chest. I swear, it’s louder than the waterfall.
He runs a hand lazily through my hair.
‘If I do die tomorrow, I can’t be too mad,’ he jokes. ‘I went out on a high.’
‘Yeah, I’d rather not die, but I don’t mind that being the last thing I did,’ I reply.
His chest shakes with a quiet laugh. He kisses the top of my head, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
‘We’d better get back,’ I say, much as I don’t want to. ‘They’ll be wondering where we are – we don’t want them to come looking for us.’
‘It would buy us a little time, to do that again,’ he jokes. ‘But yeah, you’re right.’
Sneaking back to camp feels like being teenagers again, creeping in the moonlight, trying not to make a sound. It’s much easier on sand than it was on my parents’ creaky staircase. The others are already asleep, tucked up in their beds together, looking more comfortable for having a few drinks in them.
We slip in beside Ozzy, trying not to make the bed creak. Lockie stifles a laugh against his arm when I lie down with much less grace than I intended.
Settled, we try to sleep, but in the dark his hand finds mine. He squeezes me tightly before relaxing into something comfortable. And then he doesn’t let go.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Maybe it will go well, or maybe it will go disastrously. Either way, I don’t know, but I feel happy – happier than I should for someone who is going to take her chances on a raft tomorrow.
I don’t know if we’ll make it off the island, or if we’ll even make it at all, but right now, in this bed, in this moment, with his hand holding mine, I’m not scared.
I’m happy.
Really, properly happy.
And I’m not faking it any more.
33
When I wake up, for a blissful half-second, I don’t know where I am, or what’s going on, but then I feel the two large men lying each side of me, and I hear the roar of the ocean, and remember where I am.
That’s not all I remember though. I remember the waterfall. Lockie’s hands in my hair. His mouth on mine. The way we’d stumbled back to camp in the dark like teenagers sneaking home past curfew. The way he’d found my hand under the blanket and held it like it meant something. He’s still holding it now.
Today isn’t going to be easy for a lot of reasons so it’s easy to stay in the memory of last night.
