Page 64 of Totally Wrecked
“Just great,” says Rex, flatly.
“You go,” Gray tells him. “Getting Harvey moving at a decent speed might take some work, but the threat of a storm might help.”
Rex looks at us both, his gaze is steady. “I don’t think you’ll get to the north point before dark, so just shelter up somewhere, especially if there is a storm. Then, get to us tomorrow. If you don’t appear by the end of tomorrow, I’ll come looking.”
“Don’t worry about us,” says Gray. “My legs work perfectly well.”
To prove a point, he gets to his feet. Rex moves closer to his friend then leans forward, pressing his forehead into Gray’s.
“Have a care, my friend.”
Gray doesn’t answer, he just puts his hand on Rex’s shoulder for a moment. Then, Rex looks sharply at me.
“Look after him,” Rex tells me.
“With my life,” I reply. And I mean it.
Rex turns and scrambles up the rocks, making it look so easy.
Gray looks at me and gives a rueful smile. “So…fancy a walk through the jungle?”
“I never thought you’d ask,” I say.
DAISY
When we walk back to the beach, I point out the weather front headed our way.
“Good thing you are old eagle eyes,” Leander tells me. “My eyes were glued to your ass!”
I throw a piece of coconut shell at him, and when Key looks the other way, Leander slides his hands under my shirt. I hear his stomach growl.
“Hungry?”
“For youandfood. And now it’s going to rain too? Boo…” he pouts.
I bet we have at least half an hour or so until the rain hits. I push the blue rope and hook into his hands. “Go catch us dinner before it rains,” I tell him.
“Coconut and fish for dinner, with lychee for dessert?” he grins, taking the pole from me.
“Me and Daisy already collected some more lychee,” Key pipes up. “We put them in the wet wipe container.”
“Wet wipe container?”
“It was washed up on the shoreline,” I tell him. “It’s going to be handy, as the lid is still attached.”
He looks where I am pointing and gives a shout of laughter. “Oh my fucking God, fuckingTushy Ticklesfollows me everywhere!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, picking up the box
“You know Tushy Tickles?”
“The wet-wipes? Sure.”
“My dad owns the company. He is the Wet-Wipe King of Vermont.”
I’m pretty sure my mouth falls open. “Wait, does that mean you are the Tushy Tickle Prince then?”
The prince smacks me on the butt. “Sure am, Princess.”
