Page 62 of That Island Feeling

Horror washes over me. ‘Oh no!’ I exclaim. ‘You’re not peeing on me. I forbid it.’

Jack smirks. ‘Suit yourself.’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’

He laughs. ‘Of course not. That’s an old wives’ tale. In fact, urine can actually aggravate the sting. Plain cold water should do the trick.’

‘We’re here,’ Jack announces as he jumps into the knee-deep water and proceeds to pull the board, with me on it, onto the sand, as if he’s a seasoned medic handling his patient’s stretcher.

I don’t know if I want to hit or hug him – what if I’d agreed to the pee?

He helps me up off the board and keeps a steady arm around me as I limp up the beach. I think we’re headed to Hazel’s, but instead, we stop at the public shower.

‘Stick your leg under,’ Jack instructs, rotating the tap.

I follow his instructions and a shock of cold water hits my skin.

I wince. ‘It’s stinging again.’

‘Trust me. It’ll feel better in a bit.’

‘Trust the boy who cried Woof?’ I half laugh through a stream of tears.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Jack says. ‘It was just meant to be a bit of banter; I didn’t mean for –’

‘I know, I know,’ I interject, wiping my tears away. I don’t want him to think that I blame him. In fact, I weirdly enjoyed my ride on Jack’s paddleboard – especially now that I’m back on solid ground.

‘Let’s see how it’s looking.’ Jack bends down to inspect my calf.

‘We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Constant first aid required. Although a bandaid is preferable to your pee.’ I’m aware that I’m babbling due to his mouth’s proximity to my skin. He places a hand just above the sting, and a delicious tingly feeling eclipses the last of the pain.

‘It’s not looking as red anymore,’ he says.

‘Really?’ I bend down as Jack rises and our heads nearly collide. We pause, our eyes locking as time grinds to a slow stop – a repeat of our encounter over the oysters – until Jack finally blinks, breaking the spell, and we both straighten up.

He swallows. ‘Ah, I wasn’t going to kiss you, if that’s what you were thinking.’

My stomach flutters with disappointment. ‘Oh. You weren’t?’ Have I read this all wrong?

‘Unless you wanted me to?’ he asks, his tone unmistakably hopeful.

A coy smile creeps across my face. ‘That’s up to you.’

‘Up to you, as in, you’d like me to?’

‘If you’d like to, I’d like you to.’

His brow furrows. ‘Okay, I’m confused now and –’

‘I want you to,’ I interrupt.

My confirmation is all Jack needs to lower his head and meet my lips.

Our kiss starts agonisingly tentative, but soon, there is no space between us and we are underneath the stream of water.

My body barely registers the cold. One hand is in Jack’s hair, pulling at damp, salty strands, while the other explores his slick chest, running up and down before skimming the band of his shorts. We breathe heavily as we test and tease, lips needy.

When we eventually break apart, I’m giddy as I nuzzle into his neck, drinking in his tangy citrus scent. We stay this way for a few moments, still against each other, Jack tracing slow circles on my back. Then, he snaps and presses me against the shower’s brick wall.

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