Page 19 of Wild for You
Growing up, I was expected to be absolutely perfect in every way. It was drilled into me from as early as I can remember that love and attention came with a cost, and my perfection was the currency.
Seeing Jack so content with all this feels like he’s squeezing a fresh lime wedge right in my deepest childhood wound. How can he be so … happy? It’s unnatural is what it is.
I know it may be bratty of me, but a small part of me wants to torture him … just enough to see him crack. It’s only fair that if I’m freaking out, he should at least feel a little stressed, too. Right?
Today the plan is to find fresh water, and since I just washed my only real clothes in the ocean, it looks like I’ll be prancing around this island in my silk nightie … like an idiot. I roll my eyes as I pull on a thin pink nightgown that barely covers my ass and pair it with some boy shorts. It’s the best I can do with what I have.
I could kick myself for packing so systematically. If I live to survive this, I’ll never organize similar things in one bag ever again. I can’t help but think that Elliot would never have had this problem. She’d probably have an entire wardrobe pieced together that included every season with arts and crafts to go with it.
My heart aches at the thought of my friends. Do they know by now that we didn’t make it to Costa Rica? Are they looking for us?
A small spark of hope ignites in my chest when I remember the Instagram live video I tried to record during the crash. I squint my eyes, trying to recall the memory. Did it actually go through? My account is private, but maybe someone watched it in real time? If so, maybe someone saw our last moments before we lost signal?
Maybe we have a chance of getting out of here alive?
It’s the only hope I have, considering my other option is to depend solely on Jack.
I scoff at the thought.
Maggie would say the universe is using this as an opportunity to teach me a lesson, but I think it’s just another case of my bad luck at play.
Either that or Pantone put some kind of curse on me?
I’m considering them both solid explanations.
* * *
“Are you ready to leave?”I slide on my leather platform sandals that are clearly not designed for hiking, brewing a fresh wave of annoyance at my wardrobe’s lack of functionality.
Jack’s packing his backpack, removing certain items to eliminate weight, and checking for anything we may need. He glances over his shoulder and freezes. “What is that?” He points to my outfit. “What the hell do you think you’re wearing? You look ridiculous.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I sneer as I pull the nightgown away from my body and look at it. “In case you’ve forgotten, my wardrobe is quite limited at the moment, considering it’s the only bag I have.” I pin him with a stare because even though I know he didn’t realize what bag he grabbed, I fully blame him for my lack of proper clothing.
“I … I can’t record you looking like—” he gestures to all of me and bites the knuckle of his finger, “—that.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you other than try not to record me. This is the most decent option I could find. I’d rather not give the bugs anymore real estate to feast upon than necessary.” I roll my eyes and give him a shove as I pass him and head toward the tree lines.
He huffs his annoyance and pulls his backpack up a little higher. “Fuck me. This is going to be a long day. Follow me. We have some climbing ahead of us. I don’t want you out of my sight, and for the love of God, please watch your step in those shoes.”
“Yes, sir.” I mock salute.
Then as if on cue, Jack turns on his body cam and begins talking to his invisible audience.
“Good morning, Dubbies. We’ve just feasted on a delicious spread of grilled fish. I even got Gwen to try discount caviar! We’re headed to find a fresh source of water. Water is the most important thing in a survival situation and should be your top priority.”
He stops at the base of the hill, pointing out several edible plants before snagging some and putting them in his backpack. He goes on to explain the best ways to track fresh water in the area. “Now this,” he holds up a plant, “will make a delicious tea before bed. I have a feeling Gwenny-Poo won’t sleep quite so soundly tonight, so it’ll be a real treat.”
I roll my eyes at the annoying nickname. Gwenny-Poo, the office girls won’t ever let me live that down—much less Elliot and Maggie. I’ll have to do my own rebranding just to salvage my image when we get home. But I’m up for the challenge. I can see my name on that corner office door as clear as day. I’ve just got to suck it up, bear this grueling heat, and try my best not to strangle the only person actually qualified to get us out of here.
Piece of cake.
* * *
Two hours later,we’re still walking, hiking really, what seems like straight up the side of a mountain. I’ve got a splitting pain in my side, and my mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert. “How much longer are we going to do this exactly?” I groan.
Jack swipes his giant machete knife, knocking down all the greenery in our path, and I’m not going to lie and say he doesn’t look sexy as hell, all sweaty and dirty. The whole Tarzan thing is really working for him.
“Should be getting close. I can smell the water in the air.”
