CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HANK
When I wake, Elliot is next to me, curled against my side, and the rain has come down to a slight drizzle. His body feels good there, warm, and it takes me a minute to come back to myself, aware of my scratched, cold feet and chapped lips.
My butt is itchy, too, I realize.
Really itchy. Like little flaming needles.
I try to scratch my rear without waking Elliot, but accidentally use my bit hand, and wince as I extract myself to stand. When I extend my fingers, though, the swelling is down.
I’m itching fiercely when Elliot blinks and looks up to me. “Morning, Hank.”
I stop and rub my other hand over what is now approaching a beard, a failed attempt at playing it cool. “Good morning.”
Elliot raises up a wobbly smile.
He seemed to come onto me last night, but I balked in the moment and responded like it was a joke, which it might well have been. It’s ridiculous that I’m still thinking about it, either way. Absurd.
Regardless, Elliot has requested a slower day, and I’m going to follow through on that. Yesterday, he let me steer the ship andcollaborated, and I want to show him that I appreciate it. Not to mention, he’s right that we need to take care of ourselves.
Likely, a boat will arrive at any moment, and we’ll never think of any of this again.
“I’m going to grab us some breakfast berries,” I tell him. “Please, go ahead and sleep more.”
Elliot shakes his head. “No, I’m up.” He rises weakly. “I like foraging. I’ll come.”
I nod and try to not itch my butt. “Maybe a slow walk by the beach. If the clouds part enough, we might catch the last of the sunrise.”
“Now you’re talking.” Elliot makes a face and scratches his belly. “Damn. I’m itchy.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admit, and when I finally cave and scratch myself again, almost let out a groan of satisfaction.
“Why in the hell are we wearing this wet underwear?” he asks as he kicks his briefs off. Elliot immediately starts scratching up and down his hips, grimacing.
He stands there, fully naked, and I keep my eyes locked on his eyes, not exploring.
“We’re guaranteeing ourselves rashes,” I admit, itching more under my boxer briefs.
“How are you still wearing underwear?”
I do need to wash and dry my clothes, and it’s not like I have a backup outfit. After everything Elliot and I have already been through, I resign myself, but still hesitate.
Elliot frowns. “Are you shy? Maybe we can use a shirt to cover you up. I bet you I could make it fit cute.”
I frown and push my underwear down. “Nope. We need to dry our clothes,” I say, matter of fact. “And it’s breakfast time.”
After strapping on shoes, we walk to the beach and out across sandy gravel and rocks. I’m not used to being nude in front of other people, but Elliot seems unfazed, which helps. Cool waveslap our feet as we make our way slowly, and occasional glimmers of pink and orange shine from behind the rolling gray clouds.
I glance down at my red thighs, but I’m getting over being self-conscious. Elliot and I are miserable together, and there’s a strange comfort in that.
He bends near the water. “These shells,” he says, lifting one. “They’re such a pretty, pinky orange.” He holds one up to my bitten hand. “Look how beautiful it is against your venom bruise.”
He certainly knows how to find the silver lining, I’ll give him that.
I take the shell from him. “I think it’s a cockle,” I say. “They probably live around here. We could eat them, too, but I can’t quite remember their habitat.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “A cockle?”
