Page 22 of Wild Life

Swatting at them was futile. These assholes were persistent. “Too much to wish for a shower out here, huh?” I teased, smacking one of the buzzing nuisances that had landed in the middle of my forehead. Red and brown guts smeared my palm, and I rubbed it away on my pants.Gross.

He nodded and gathered the basket of fruit. The pig stayed behind, chomping on the mangoes that we’d left on the ground, while I followed the man with the rod in hand.

We continued on past the hut, several yards farther, to an alcove in the bushes. Another barrel rested there, similar to the one he used to catch rainwater outside the hut. Tall stalks of something resembling bamboo had been arranged like walls to form a nook. Large, smooth rocks lay flat on the ground inside the area with barely enough space between them to see a sliver of earth underneath.

Cryptid passed me the rod and twisted a makeshift valve on the ground constructed of plastic. I assumed it was another invention made from salvaged ocean trash. Suddenly, water trickled from an overhead spout fashioned from an old water bottle with small holes poked in the bottom, attached to another bamboo-like stalk.A shower.

I placed my free hand under the stream, cool liquid hitting my palm. “Oh my God! You built a shower?”

He nodded curtly before turning off the valve.

It was a shame no one else was here to witness his accomplishments. If he had been in a less isolated area, he’d have no doubt been a successful engineer. He deserved accolades for building something out of virtually nothing.

“This is amazing. Can I use it?”

He nodded again and collected the rod from me and the basket off the ground, leaving me in privacy.

Wow.A real shower.Despite being made from limited resources, it was far fancier than some of the showers I’d used in motels and hostels during my travels.

I waited for his footsteps to disappear before undressing. My clothes were so disgusting that I had to peel them off my body. I stripped down completely, ditching my sweaty underwear. A shower was a rare occurrence, and I intended to take full advantage of it.

Water flowed steadily when I switched on the valve as he had demonstrated. The pressure was low, and judging from the size of the barrel, I didn’t have much time to waste before the supply vanished.

I stepped under the stream and shivered when the cold water hit my skin. I tilted my head back, dousing my greasy hair. Liquid cascaded down my body, stinging my burnt skin. Gradually the ache dissipated, and I was able to enjoy the chilling sensation.

I gently cleaned my neck, and then my breasts.Underboobsweat was the bane of my existence, and I had been a walking factory for it over the past few days.

My eyes closed as I washed between my legs, cleansing away the memory of dirty panties. I had to admit that touching my most private parts in the middle of the jungle, with the birds chirping overhead and the breeze blowing, was liberating. I opened my eyes to take in the tranquil surroundings.

“Fuck!” I screamed and grasped at my body, unsuccessfully hiding myself from the inquisitive man gaping at me.

To my horror, Cryptid stood before me, taking in my hand that failed to contain my tits and the other that barely covered between my legs. A deep growl vibrated in his throat.

A large cloth tumbled from his clutches onto the ground. I snatched it up, instantly snapping him out of his stupor. Wrapping myself in the makeshift towel, I shut the water off.

“Dude! What the hell?! You can’t sneak up on people like that when they’re bathing!” He might’ve built the shower, but he certainly didn’t have any bathroom etiquette.

He still stood there, as if waiting to see more.

I frantically waved him off. “Do you mind?!”

Finally, he stalked away.

I wouldn’t have dreamed privacy would be an issue on an island with only two people, but damn it…

Chapter 11

Uncontrollable Storms

Aleki

Screech Owl was too much to deal with. One minute, she was soft and quiet…kind of amusing…but then, as soon as I blinked, she would turn into a babbling mess of words.

And I didn’t want to start on the mood swings.

I was always the same: a loner, kept to myself, a person of few words—orno words, when it involved her. I regretted tricking her into thinking that I was incapable of speech because now I couldn’t tell her to shut up when she made my head hurt.

Like when she’d been showering. Any appreciation she’d shown me for my handy construction had disappeared when I’d just been bringing her a towel. The favor backfired, and she had exploded.

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