Page 82 of Lost Paradise

“What's wrong?” she asks, noticing my lack of enthusiasm. “I thought it was pretty funny. Kind of reminiscent of us. This must be some sort oflove islandwith a magnetic pull for fucking.”

“Sweetheart, I’m happy for the turtles.”

“But?” she prompts, raising an eyebrow with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t see well above the water. Under is a whole different story. As much as I would love to see what you do, I only see colorful shadows underwater.”

“Oh,” she says thoughtfully, and I hate her thinking my sight is some disability.

“So when you say it’s hard to see above the water, up to what distance are you talking about?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.

I shrug, “Like a couple of meters, maybe. After that, things start to get a bit shady.”

She swims closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And now?”

“I will always see you, luv. You’re not part of the hazy equation.”

She moves even closer, her grin widening as her lips curl up. “Now?” she teases, her voice playful. “How about now?” Her proximity makes the water around us feel even more intimate.

I wrap my arms around her and gently pull her closer. “There isn’t a chance I’ll ever miss you,” I say softly, my gaze lingering on her lips. “Even if I can’t see you, I’ll still smell you.”

Her eyes, which had been soft and tender, widen in surprise. “Are you saying I reek?”

I can’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the water. She immediately pushes away from me and starts swimming back toward the shore, her movements swift and purposeful.

Despite my own sight issues, I know Eve’s self-conscious about herself and her current lack of hygiene. But she doesn’t seem to grasp that none of us have noticed or care because we’re all in the same boat as her.

Our brains have tuned out any stench we might be suffering and desensitized ourselves to it. We do what we can to maintain any sense of cleanliness, such as bathing in the sweetwater lagoon and rinsing out mouths using salted seawater. But razors and soap are items of luxury that I’d never think in my most wildest moments I’d ever miss having.

Because the idea of being stranded on an island with just the clothes on my back isn’t a fantasy I have ever entertained in my mind.

After a few more strokes, I latch onto Eve and pull her close to me as we reach the shallow ends of the shore.

“I might be almost blind,” I say, tackling her onto the wet sand, “But you can’t escape me, Firebug.”

She stops and looks at me amusingly as I hover over her.

“Did you just call me a bug?”

Did I?

I think about my last words.

“Maybe it slipped,” I say, wondering where the bloody hell that came from.

“I like it.”

“Firebug?” I search her face questionably.

“Yeah, it’s unique. Most would use Firefly because it’s cute. But you’ve called me after an ugly redand black bug.”

“I think it’s a beautiful insect,” I say in support of the nickname I have just come up with or fell upon, depending on how one looks at it. “Firebugs are unique and captivating creatures, much like your own individual nature that sets you apart from others. Plus, they can be playful and endearing, much like how I feel you are to me, warm and exciting. Your glow brightens up the darkness of my soul, and all my anger seems to disappear when I’m around you.”

“Hmmm,” she says but doesn’t expand.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t think I needed to ask you to kiss the fuck out of me.”

---