Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Ugh,” I tried to wipe the sand from my mouth, but my hands were covered in sand too.
I scratched my thigh, but it just kept itching. Upon closer inspection, I saw that my legs were covered in little red welts.
“What the…?” I looked at my arms. Also covered.
“Might’ve been fire ants,” Archer said. “Or no-see-ums.”
I sighed. He’d told me to sleep in the shelter, but I’d refused. I’d wrapped myself in the mosquito net and curled up on the sand instead. The mosquito net was now in a jumble next to me. I vaguely remembered tearing it off last night, while dreaming I was being buried alive by essays written by my freshman literature class.
Standing, I brushed the sand from my skin and shook it from my hair while our second camera operator, Linda, filmed. Awesome.
“I’d offer you coffee, but all we have is water,” Archer said.
“I’m going to fill my canteen.”
“I already filled them all. And I wouldn’t pee in the spot by the well where you did a three last night. There’s lots of poison ivy there.”
I scowled. “A three? Are you a child?”
He grinned. “You want me to say ‘where you pissed and took a shit?’”
“First of all, I was just peeing. And second, can you just sit quietly? It’s too early for your bullshit.”
“No one takes that long to pee, Lo.”
“Go fuck yourself. It took me a long time to start peeing because I was wondering if you could hear me.”
He shrugged. “Either way, I recommend you go in the ocean. You definitely don’t want poison ivy on your corn chute.”
I looked at him in stunned silence for a couple of seconds. “You…pooped in the ocean?”
He’d traumatized sea life. Archer really was the worst.
“Survival’s not always sexy.” He stood from the log. “If you’re cool with keeping the fire going, I’m going to see if I can catch us some fish for breakfast.”
“Yeah, just let me go wash the sand off in the water.”
I walked to the shoreline and took off my shorts and T-shirt, wading into the water in my suit. I went shoulder deep, and though I wasn’t going to tell Archer, I did pee.
The bright turquoise water and lush jungle still felt like a photograph. I’d never even been outside the US until now.
After getting out of the water and putting my clothes back on, I walked up to our fledgling camp. Archer had built the base and one wall of our shelter from bamboo yesterday. He’d also started a fire ring, which only needed a few more rocks to be complete.
“I’ll watch the fire,” I said, picking up one of my canteens and taking a drink.
Archer stood, and I felt his gaze on me. It was a warm, achingly familiar sensation, but now it also brought a feeling of trepidation.
I still clearly remembered when we’d first spoken in Geometry sophomore year. I’d seen Archer around school, but that was the first class we’d had together. When he’d asked me if I knew what time class was over, I’d answered nonchalantly, but taken notice of the cute hockey player. The next week when he’d asked if I wanted to be partners for our first assignment, I’d gotten butterflies. How could I not? He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, but it was his smile that did me in.
His smile reached his eyes every time. It was confident, but not cocky. When I daydreamed about him during all my other classes, I always pictured that smile.
“I didn’t dump you,” he said out of nowhere. Clearly he’d been thinking about what I had said yesterday.
I looked at him, my brow furrowed. What was I supposed to say to that? He most definitely had dumped me. Why else would I have listened to Taylor Swift’s Red album on repeat, eaten more pints of Ben & Jerry’s than I cared to admit even now, and cried myself to sleep every night for weeks?
“I wanted us to stay together, Lo,” he continued. “I really did. I wanted you to come to Minneapolis with me.”
Why was he telling me this, all these years later? Did he want to be right somehow? To seem like a good guy rather than the disappointing, detached one I remembered him as?
“I’m sure you did,” I said, holding his gaze. “But it wasn’t fair to ask me to move without making a commitment.”
His eyes darkened in the way I remembered they did when he was in a serious or angry mood.
“I was always committed to you.”
I knew what it was like to have a younger Archer’s gaze intently focused on me. But this man, with broader shoulders and dark stubble coating his face—he intimidated me. I couldn’t let it show, though.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said softly.
He kept looking at me in silence for a few seconds, and I thought he might say something more. But then he picked up his fishing gear and walked away, heading down the beach. I watched him go, both relieved and disappointed he hadn’t said anything else.