Page 44 of Reckless Girls
He shrugs. “Dunno, man. Gonna see which way the wind blows, you know?”
Mouth full, he gestures with what’s left of his—our—protein bar back at the jungle. “Or maybe I’ll just find a place to camp out. Live the dream forever.”
When he flashes his teeth at me this time, there’s a chunk of dried blueberry stuck there, and I feel my stomach roll a little.
“What, live here?” I ask, reaching past him into the shelter for a bottle of water. It’s warm and tastes like chemicals, but it still helps.
Robbie nods. “People have. Like, I read this one story about a dude who was stationed here in World War II. War ended, he didn’t feel like going back. My buddy who stopped by here a couple of years ago said he found the dude’s shack in the jungle. Dude was long gone, obviously. Fucker would be, like, ninety or something by now. But he did it. He did the damn thing!”
Another chortle, and Robbie leans back on his elbows. “Maybe I’ll do the damn thing, too.”
I think of spending our last week here with Robbie and have to fight to keep myself from grimacing.
“And he wasn’t the only one,” Robbie continues, looking at me. “Not the only one who said, ‘to hell with it,’ and set up permanent camp. The guy I knew who came here, Chipper, he said he was sure there was someone else living on the island. He kept hearing noises, and finding, like, traps in the trees and shit.”
“No one could survive here that long,” I say, even as I remember the skull at the airstrip, the concrete proof that people had lived, and died, on Meroe. “Not without replenishing supplies.”
Robbie shrugs. “Easy-peasy, girlie. Sail back to Hawaii, reload. Then you come right back here, keep livin’ the dream.”
He spreads his arms wide like he did last night, taking in all of the island, and I look past him at the line of trees, the darkness of the jungle.
For the past week, it’s felt like we’ve had this place all to ourselves, our own private paradise.
But Robbie is right. If you had a boat, you could stay here indefinitely.
The idea that Robbie might not be the only person we’ve been sharing the island with sends a shudder through me, and I’m grateful when I hear someone call, “Lux!”
It’s Jake, making his way up the beach. Looking farther down the shoreline, I can see the dinghy pulled up on the sand.
He’s wearing a pair of faded red trunks and some boat shoes, and as he approaches, I see his gaze slide to Robbie.
“Hey, there,” he says, friendly enough, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Hey yourself!” Robbie calls back, then stands up, brushing the sand off his shorts. “Not creeping on your lady, promise,” he says, and I look over at him sharply, trying to figure out if he’s fucking with us.
“Not his lady,” I say even as Jake says, “My girl’s still on the boat.”
Robbie looks back and forth between us, then chuckles, shaking his head. “Right, right, she’s with the other guy, the dude with the—” He makes a gesture over his bicep, indicating, I guess, Nico’s tattoo. “And your lady is blond. It’s all coming back to me now.”
Jake gives me a wink, and I feel myself flush a little. Just the suggestion of being “his girl” makes me feel… embarrassed? Self-conscious? It’s like having a sex dream about a friend or a coworker. You might not have been into them before, but suddenly they’ve reared up in your mind as an option.
“At least he thought I had excellent taste,” Jake offers, making me laugh.
Then he jerks his head. “Come on, Lux,” he says. “I want to show you something.”
JAKE TAKES ME FARTHER DOWNthe beach, past the dinghy, and we round a corner into a small cove, the beach rising up in a small cliff over the water. It’s only about five or six feet up, but we scramble, slipping and sliding, and when Jake reaches down to take my hand, I let him, his palm warm against mine.
The image of him and Eliza at the pool flashes through my mind again, and my entire body goes hot with it, making me stumble as we crest the little ridge.
“You okay?” he asks, glancing back at me, and I nod, making myself smile.
“Great, yeah.”
There’s another one of Eliza’s blankets spread out there, set back against the tree line so that it’s in natural shade, and another cooler, plus a stack of paperback books. “Eliza and I sensed that our original spot might get a little crowded, so we decided to go slightly farther afield,” he says, spreading his hand out. “You like?”
“Very nice,” I agree, looking around. “But where is Eliza?”
“Off on a walkabout,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Think she’s getting a bit sick of me, to be honest.”
