I’d convinced myself my feelings for Theo weren’t real because they were so tangled up in the fear and chaos and hope of Comet Week, but maybe I was wrong. What if the fact that I can’t separate Theo from all my biggest emotions is a feature, not a bug? The thought of brushing my knuckles against his makes me so sick with vulnerability that I could pitch myself off this cliff, and that has to mean something.
What if what we had was the only thing that meant anything, and he doesn’t want it anymore?
“You’re thinking about skinny-dipping, aren’t you?” he asks.
I smile to myself. I wasn’t, but he definitely was. “What’s the plan here?” I hold up the phone.
“We should stay along the coast and away from the trees and the mountain for our best chance of picking up a signal.”
“If you say so.” I’m starting to wonder whether Theo imagined seeing a signal on the phone. The ocean stretches forever in front of us, an empty horizon from here to the end of the world. I’m not sure where he thinks the cell towers are hiding.
“You don’t agree?” he asks, his brow raised in that cocky way of his.
The opportunity to banter with him materializes effortlessly, a bright, shimmering invitation. I want to engage, but I’m worried it’ll only make me feel worse. We bantered nonstop on our trip from London to Greece, and that ended with a wedding on the beach and a honeymoon night that I can’t forget, no matter how many times I’ve tried.
I sidestep the bait. “I’ll take the phone off airplane mode when we get to the spot where it had service.”
“Here,” he says after another minute of walking. “This was the spot.”
I switch the phone out of airplane mode and watch the battery immediately drop to nine percent. My stomach tightens. “Are you sure?”
Theo glances around, doubt creeping over his features. “Maybe not. Let’s keep walking.” After a long stretch of silence, he speaks again. “How’s your arm feeling?”
“It’s fine.”
“Did Henry do all right?”
“I’m no longer on the verge of bleeding out.” I walk faster.
“Did it hurt?”
I stop walking and whirl around. He crashes into me. “Yeah, Theo.It hurt!”
If I’m “just a girl” to him, I don’t want him to pretend that he cares about me. A flare of annoyance burns in my chest. I seize that feeling and wrap myself in it. If I direct all my attention at beingMad. At. Him,I don’t have to feel scared or heartbroken or anything else.
Theo looks pained. “I knew he’d take care of you.”
“Well, he did,” I say flatly.
Dueling hurt and defensiveness flash in Theo’s eyes. He crosses his arms with a scowl. “I was looking for something important.”
“And lucky for us, you found it! A completely useless brick!” I wave the phone in the air.
It vibrates with an incoming text.
I fumble the phone. It slips out of my hand and lands on a sharp rock. The screen splinters. Theo and I both lunge for it, but our competing hands send it right over the edge of the cliff.
It lands ten feet below us on a flat rock, just inches from the water. The screen is shattered, but the phone lights up and vibrates as dozens of messages flood in, one after the other. The phone dances closer to the edge of the rock with each vibration.
Theo and I are sprawled on our stomachs, our heads hanging over the edge of the cliff. We look at each other with wide eyes.
“It has a signal,” he says.
“And almost no battery left,” I reply.
“We need to get down there.”
“There’s not room for both of us on that rock.” There’s barelyroom foroneof us. Unlike the cliff that we scaled to get onto the island, this one doesn’t have handholds and footholds to follow. The ten-foot drop is sheer, and the rock holding the phone can’t be wider than seven or eight inches.
