Page 145 of Lost Paradise

“Hopefully land,” I reply softly, hoping to inject a semblance of optimism into our increasingly dire situation. I wrap my arm around her shoulders as a sign of reassurance and kiss her head.

Two days passed in a blur of endless water and shifting skies. We battled rough waves that tossed our little boat like a toy, each of us gripping the sides to keep from being thrown overboard. The saltwater stung our eyes and coated our skin, but we pressed on, driven by a mixture of hope and desperation.

During a rare moment of calm, we encountered fascinating sights. A pod of dolphins had leaped alongside our boat, their sleek bodies cutting through the water with grace. They seemed to guide us, their presence a welcome distraction from our exhaustion. Eve’s face lit up with childlike wonder at the sight, a rare smile breaking through the tension that gripped us all. For a moment, we forgot the weight of our predicament as we marveled at the ocean’s hidden treasures.

“Look!” Eve exclaims, suddenly dragging me out of my thoughts and pointing to a massive jellyfish, its translucent body pulsating just below the surface. The creature glows with an ethereal light, casting an otherworldly glow around it. We watch in awe as it drifts past, a reminder of the ocean’s mysterious beauty.

When night falls, the sea becomes illuminated by bioluminescent plankton, tiny specks of light swirling in the water. It’s as if the stars have fallen from the sky, creating a magical display that momentarily lifts our spirits.

Byron consults the maps almost every hour of the day, and when he does not, he discusses options with Foster and Eve, who know how to steer this boat better than any of us. But a lot is running onthe Brainin our group, and he knows it.

I silently laugh at the nickname Astro gave him a while back.

Regardless, we trust Byron to navigate us as he relies on the maps and his interpretations of them.

The journey is grueling, the constant motion of the boat and the relentless waves testing our endurance. I feel every muscle ache, every joint stiffen from the strain, but as I look out at the horizon, I know we have to keep going.

We have no choice in the matter.

“Here, let me apply it, Firecracker,” I say gently, taking the container of coconut oil and kneeling beside Eve, whose delicate skin glows faintly in the sunlight and is quick to burn despite our best efforts.

Eden's nose, already reddened, bears witness to how swiftly the sun can scorch. Over our time on the island, the rest of us endured initial burns that eventually settled into healthy tans or, in my case, a deeperhue. But for Eve, she’s burned, then burned some more, and the darkest she’s gotten is a light golden.

Carefully, I begin to spread the coconut oil across her neck, hands, and legs, where the sun has left its mark. She’s lowered the sleeves of her shirt to make sure her skin remains hidden. The oil offers soothing relief against the punishing heat. We ration our precious supply of coconut and aloe vera for her sake, knowing her fair skin demands the most protection.

"Put on my hoodie, babe," I suggest, knowing it's hot but hoping the hood will shield her head from the relentless sun.

Before I can fetch it for her, Jack swoops in and plops the hood over her head. "She doesn't need to put it on. She can just wear it like this," he insists with a grin.

I try to stifle my laughter as I look at Eve, now all hunched over with the hood engulfing her head.

"I look terrible, like some homeless person," Eve protests with a pout.

I reach out to adjust the hood, trying to ease her discomfort. "You look cozy," I say gently, hoping to reassure her. "And it's better than getting burnt again."

“A sexy homeless person, Firebug. No one’s judging you on your fashion statement,” Byron chimes in and pushes his eyeglasses back as he looks up and offers her a smile.

“But,” Astro interjects, “I bet if you turned up looking like that at some event in Manhattan, you’d be starting a new trend.”

I chuckle, only imagining such happening.

“Yeah, they might mistake it for some avant-garde designer statement. I've seen crazier things on catwalks," Jack adds.

"Hold on," I say, turning to Jack. "What were you doing near fashion catwalks?"

All eyes focus with amusement on the prince of darkness.

“My mum used to drag me to them as a kid. Until she didn’t. I was her accessory that untrended by the time I hit puberty.”

"Untrendedisn't a word," Byron corrects as he reads something from his notebook without looking up. "You'd say 'not trending' to describe something that's not popular."

"Did you have a thing for your English teacher?" Astro teases.

Byron suddenly winces and the face he makes suggests something deeper he’s not letting out. The entire boat goes quiet.

“"You didn't..." I start, surprised.

"No, I didn't fancy any teachers," Byron replies curtly, burying his head back in his book.

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