Love To Hate You

Not in Kansas anymore

Mary

My throat is dry, and I’m covered in sweat. I forgot how terrible hangovers are. Rubbing my eyes, I reach out toward the table to grab my phone. Something stops my hand. When I crack my eyes open, the first thing I see is a red tarp above my head. That’s when I remember the argument and the boat pitching me overboard. Everything after is a blur. I take a better look now that my eyes are fully opened. It appears I’m in a deflated rescue raft. Oh no, I wrestle the thing off, and shock grips me. A million thoughts and questions jam my brain. How am I alive? Who put me in that raft? Where am I? Where is the ship? Am I alone? The most important question is what I settle on. What am I going to do?

Dehydration is my primary concern. I go back to what’s left of the raft and search for a survival bag. Inside it, I find a half empty water bottle and down the entire thing in one chug. It's not the smartest decision. It’s obvious I’m on an island, but I see nothing on it. There’s no sign of life. All I hear are birds. At least there're birds. That means there’s some form of drinkable water. The trees are so thick it looks like a jungle. Duh, Mary, that’s exactly what it is. I shake my head, looking down, and find footprints in the white sand. Upon further observation, I realize they’re too big to be mine. I’m not alone!

I follow the prints to the treeline, where they lead to a disturbed path. A sudden movement to my left startles me, and I fall on my butt.

“Your awake.”

Squeezing my eyes as tight as I can, I count to ten, hoping I’m mistaken. The only thing worse than being stuck on an island alone would be being stuck on an island with Brandon Price.

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding annoyed. I open my eyes, looking up at his silhouette. The sun blocks most of my vision, but it’s Brandon for sure.

“Your welcome! Thanks to you we’re now stranded. God only knows where.”

Jumping up, I’m automatically at my breaking point. Starting right where we left off.

“You think this is my fault? I was dancing. Having a fine time, until you came along. This is your fault, not mine.”

He smirks, folding his arms. The way he looks down at me has me standing my ground. The way I see it, no one person is better than the other. We’re all equals. Brandon has no such beliefs.

“You were practically fucking him on the dance floor. Your lucky there weren’t any kids around, or they would have asked you to leave.”

He’s crazy… I might have had a couple of drinks, but I know damn well our dancing was PG at best. You could have fit another couple between us there was so much space. I give up, turning around and walking to the shore without another word. I sit down with my toes in the water and the hot sand scalding my bottom. It’s a few minutes before I give in. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I find him drinking out of a coconut. My mouth waters at the sight, which is surprising since I’m so parched. There’s a stack of them laying beside him and an empty coconut on his other. How chivalrous of him to offer me one. It doesn’t surprise me, but I glare at his profile, anyway. Brandon has taken his shirt off and wrapped it around his head like a turban. I wish I could do that, but my dress is already in tatters and I don’t think chiffon is a suitable substitute for cotton. The liquid drips down his chest and pools in his navel. Hmm, I never realized how good of shape he’s in. Is that a six-pack? He catches me starting and I twist my head, looking out at the sea.

“See something you like?”

I stiffen in response to his closeness.

“No.”

He exaggerates the noise of his slurping. Grating on my last nerve.

“Are you sure? These coconuts are perfectly ripe. There better than sex.”

He’s so crude, I think he does it just to spite me. This close, I can smell the coconut and my stomach grumbles in response.

“What will it cost me?” I ask sarcastically. Brandon chuckles, it’s nothing friendly. I can hear the edge in it.

“Nothing to steep. Just a thank you for saving your hide and an apology for being so rude.”

With the shock of everything, I hadn’t put two and two together, realizing he did really save my life. Even though it was his fault, I fell in the first place. I suppose I do owe him a thank you. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but my stubborn side has to have the last word.

“Thank you for saving me, but I won’t apologize. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

He grumbles, mumbling something I can’t make out and tosses me a coconut. I expect him to leave so I can attempt breaking it apart without him watching. Instead, he sits three feet to my left. Poking at the flesh with a small knife.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, He doesn’t look up but answers while busy at work on the coconut.

“Came with the boat.”

I struggle with the hard shell for nearly ten minutes before giving up.

“Could I please borrow that knife for a moment?” I ask in my best mannered voice which is very hard to muster at the moment. I wait a time and begin to think he’s ignoring me. Then he holds out his palm.

“Give it here.”

In seconds he has it cracked. When I tip the fruit to my mouth, I moan in ecstasy. It really is perfectly ripe. After I’m finished, I eye the pile by the treeline. I look at Brandon to see if he notices. Of course he does, he’s looking right at me.

“More?”

Unsure if it’s a trick or not I hesitate to answer but that doesn’t last long.

“Yes, please.”

He retrieves another, cracking it open, and sits across from me.

“You don’t lose so much, if you cup the base with your bottom lip. Like this.”

He sticks his lip out and cups the coconut halve with both hands, showing me. Mimicking him, I manage not to spill a drop. When I look back at Brandon, he’s watching me intently.

“It worked.” I say with surprised enthusiasm.

“do you like mangos?” He asks, My eyes widen. I hope it’s not some kind of joke…

When I’m so full, I can’t move. Our situation begins to sink in. I’m sitting in the shade under a makeshift umbrella Brandon has made, and he’s in the water with a sharp stick, trying to catch fish.

“What are we going to do? Shouldn’t we make some kind of SOS in the sand or something?”

Brandon laughs, still half focused on the fish.

“If you want, but I don’t think it will do much good. They have no idea when we jumped ship and they’re probably only now realizing we're gone.”

Fear spikes a burn in my belly. The reality of the situation still hasnt sunken in. The ocean is vast. Not having some sort of starting point is hopeless. His statement, if true. Leaves us in dire straights…