Page 49 of Stranded

I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts and remind myself why I came in here in the first place. After only a couple minutes of searching, I find what I’m looking for, one of my earlier attempts at a mattress. It’s not huge, but it will work for one of them, maybe Kingsley, as he has the narrowest frame.

I drag it back to the main hut to assess it. It’s in pretty good shape. The only reason I had upgraded was to make a bigger one, and I had learned better binding techniques since I made it. Deciding it will work, I move the table and chair until there is room against the wall for it.

After that, it’s a matter of finding material to put inside of it. Leaves tend to make the softest stuffing, so I grab two bags and head to an area with the softest leaves and start harvesting them. It takes me a while to fill it, and as I head back with what I think will be my last haul, I’m surprised the guys haven’t come back yet.

Unease starts to prickle at the back of my neck. Are they okay? Did they get injured somehow? Were they in danger? Had they spotted a rescue ship? Have they already been rescued? Am I alone, again? My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of them leaving.

Isn’t that what you wanted? To have them leave so you could be alone again?

“Shut up, Steve,” I grumble, choosing to blame my pet rock for those thoughts instead of myself. “Maybe it’s what I wanted before I got to know them. But now…”

But now, I’ll be devastated when they leave.

As I get closer to camp, the sound of Bower’s voice reaches my ears and a smile crosses my face in relief.

They’re still here!

I silently drop onto the skywalk in a crouched position as I watch them munching on the food I left for them. Kingsley is smiling at something Bower just said, and Weston is staring into the trees across the clearing. Is he looking forme? Why do I hope that he is? If I wanted him to know I was here, I could just tell him.

Unsure what to do about these new feelings, I quickly move into the hut and dump my bags on the ground, taking a seat beside the mattress. Slowly, I continue stuffing the remaining leaves into it as my mind jumps from thought to thought.

What do I do after I finish this? Are they still mad about last night? What happens if a rescue ship arrives to take them away?

“Zee?”

A surprised yelp escapes me as I twist around and see Weston standing in the doorway. His piercing hazel eyes stare at me with so much intensity it makes my body heat.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, his eyes darting to the mattress beside me.

“I, uh, I realized you guys only had two beds in here.” I look up at him, feeling nervous for some reason, like I’ve done something wrong. There’s a sudden heat rising in my chest, something fragile and uncertain fluttering in my stomach. A myriad of emotions flick through his face so fast I’m only able to pinpoint two; surprise and frustration.

I swallow heavily, unsure if I’ve done something wrong. He rubs his hand through his scruffy beard as he takes a deep breath. Then he slowly moves towards me, his eyes glued to mine. I’m unable to move or look away from the strength of his gaze. It pins me in place, not with fear, but with something deeper… expectation, maybe. Or hope.

He squats down right in front of me, his eyes searching my face. For what? I’m not sure. Maybe he's trying to read what I’m not brave enough to say out loud. Then his eyes flick to the mattress, a small frown pinching between his brows as he looks it over.

“You don’t like it?” I can’t help but ask, worried he’ll think it’s too small for them to use.

His eyes snap back to mine and I take in a sharp breath at the intensity I see there.

“Don't like it? Fuck, Zee… You made us a bed, you gave us your home, you made us breakfast. Of course I fucking love it, I love everything you do.”

“You do?” I ask in surprise.

“Yes, why would you think otherwise?”

“Because you’re frowning.” My finger points to the center of his brow where he still wears the pinches expression. As soon as I make contact with his skin, the pinch disappears and his hand shoots up to grab my wrist, making me gasp in surprise.

I stare at him with wide eyes, unsure what he’s going to do next. My heart is thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to reach him before I can.

When he doesn’t move, my fingers twitch, grazing the side of his face, and he slowly moves closer, letting go of my wrist. I let my fingers trail over his cheek before moving them down into his stubble. It prickles my skin and makes me shiver. I like the roughness of it in contrast to his soft skin and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like against my face if he kissed me.

I lick my lips as I trace his jaw, his eyes following the movement of my tongue. I bite my lip nervously as I grow bolder, using my whole hand to explore his face.

He reaches up tentatively, making me freeze my movements. Then he cups my face with one of his hands, his thumb runs over my lower lip, pulling it from my teeth and my tongue darts up to trace where he touched me.

“Mango,” I whisper.

He groans, the sound desperate and rough, causing me to feel wet between my legs. Before I can decide what to do next, we’re interrupted by Bower’s booming voice.

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