Page 28 of Shipwrecked

“Just contact information for the places we’d be staying and what days we’d be there in case of an emergency. Not that I thought we’d have an emergency. Willow’s granddad is sick and is in hospital, so I was putting that together for her, in case they needed to contact her. I figured I should just send it on to everyone while I was at it.”

Jules is some sort of angel. “Brilliant.”

Mathieu makes a similar appreciative sound. “Jules is the best at planning. I was so happy when you invited me.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. “That was Darren. I didn’t know you were coming till you stepped onto the yacht.”

There’s a second where I think things are about to get awkward. It’s much easier to get your feelings hurt when you haven’t slept well in three days.

“I can’t say I didn’t guess that.” Mathieu sounds more accepting than hurt. “But I am not one to let an opportunity pass me by.”

Chapter Ten

Jules

First thing in the morning, Mathieu and I go to the ocean to wash. Every small movement sends pain rocketing through the base of my skull. I sink until cool water covers my neck. I don’t know if there’s anything medicinal in it, but it sure feels like it.

I keep an eye out for jellyfish, like Seán suggested, but can’t spot any. What I do see is an abundance of fish, and a little way out, the dark mounds of rocks. They look similar to the rocks you find mussels growing on at home, though I can’t exactly tell from this distance.

“Should we try and catch fish?” Mathieu asks. I glance his way and end up stuck staring. His shirt is off, and he’s scrubbing it clean against itself. His tanned shoulders are broader and more muscled than I realised. Then again, he was fairly strong manhandling me in the hallway of that club… I can’t believe our situation has changed so much in a few days. I was freaking out about hooking up with Mathieu after two years of nothing but Darren, and now we’re shipwrecked, and Mathieu is this beacon of resilient niceness, golden hair a halo.

I float towards him, drawn in like a fly to honey. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Surprise shoots across his face. That’s probably such a bizarre thing to hear from me. We weren’t even close in college. Mathieu was part of the group, and Darren always invited him to our hangouts, but I kept my distance. For the same reason I kept my distance from Cillian. It’s rude to talk to people you’re attracted to when dating someone else.

“That’s awful to say, isn’t it? I just mean, you’re very pleasant.” It sounds so lukewarm phrased like that. “I don’t mean that either. The situation is terrible, but you’re not.” Not terrible isn’t much of an improvement either! “I always knew you had a good personality, but I didn’t realise that there’s steel behind your niceness. Does that make sense?”

Mathieu watches me as I ramble, and my face grows hot. I groan and dip myself into the ocean, praying it will cool me off. Hands cup my face and draw me back out.

I blink the water from my lashes.

Mathieu is grinning. His face is very close to mine. I look at his dimples and then at his mouth. He’s got a soft indent in his full bottom lip, right in the middle.

“Hey guys,” Mary calls.

Mathieu holds my gaze for a few more seconds, something warm and conspiratorial in the look, and then turns to the shoreline, hands on my cheeks sliding away. Charles has Mary on his back, and Willow is walking next to them. Her gaze darts between Mathieu and me. I drift away from him, tipping my head once more into the cool ocean.

Mary is delighted once she’s in the water and her foot can float. We wash, forming a loose circle. We discuss how we’d go about catching fish. Charles suggests a spear, Mary thinks she could weave together a net from thin vines, and Willow reckons that a grub stuck onto the end of one of the sharp thorns that cut up her legs yesterday could be used as a fishing hook.

“We could do all three,” I say. “Our odds would be better that way.”

“I could do with something other than fruit,” Charles says. “I can feel my muscles eating themselves.”

My stomach is similarly empty. After two days of having nothing but fruit, I’m craving all sorts of things. I study the rocks in the water again. Are they mussels? I’m not sure how I’d go about cooking them, but Cillian and Seán would probably magic something up for us. Half a coconut shell as a pot? With white wine and garlic sauce…

“I would kill someone for a vape,” Willow says wistfully.

“I want bread,” Mary says. “A slice of bread with butter on it.”

“Curry cheese chips,” I contribute.

“Cheese sounds lovely…” Mathieu says.

We revel in our daydreams. The horizon is empty except for our lonely yacht breaking the flat line. For a while, nobody speaks. It feels extra quiet. Isolating. I push down that flare of fear. It won’t be long now. Rescue could turn up at any moment. They probably don’t search at night, but maybe by this evening. The wet wood Cillian threw on the fire first thing this morning is sending smoke high into the air, plainly visible against the clear blue sky.

“It’s already warm,” Willow says.

The sun has only just risen, and the humidity is intense.