Page 34 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

I try not to focus on how his breath is hot against my neck or that he smells like sunscreen and salt and something citrusy that should not be distracting.

His jet ski drifts away.

“There goes my deposit,” Cal says.

“Want to blame alien abduction or pirates?”

He lets out a shaky laugh that rumbles against my spine.

I don’t say anything. I keep riding.

But I can’t stop thinking about how scared he looked.

Or the way his hands clutch my waist.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cal

The Pacific Ocean surrounds us, and everything is shades of azure and ivory, waves and their foamy crests, the latter so dazzlingly perfect that if they saw them, diamantaires would lay down their tools and shutter their jewel shops in shame.

I frown into the horizon. “I don’t see the island.”

“It’s here,” Jason says, but his words don’t come across as confident as I want them to be.

There’s no island in front of us.

No island behind us.

My brain gallops, sending terror through each nerve, but I force out a weak laugh. “Guess we’re on an adventure.”

Jason squints at the sun. “Isn’t there a way we can look at the sun to see which way to go?”

“That’s not a bad idea. Do you remember where the sun was when we headed out?”

“Fuck. No.”

“I don’t either. It might have been behind us.”

Jason unfolds the map, and I peer at it, pressing against his right shoulder blade. He sucks in some air, then squirms forward.

I blink rapidly.

For a moment I forgot he’s the most homophobic player in the country.

It doesn’t matter. I wish sixteen-year-old me hadn’t thought it was a good idea to kiss him. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t know I was once attracted to him. I’m pretty sure he can guess I still am.

He’s spent the last decade working out and having nutritionists determine his food. I’ve spent the last decade not having access to any gym and making suboptimal nutritional choices.

I force myself to focus on the map and not on Jason’s long fingers and uneven breath. “There are lots of islands. We’re bound to hit one eventually. In two minutes, we’ll be laughing.”

Unfortunately, in two minutes we are as removed from any islands as before. My muscles scream and shudder, lactic acid dousing each of them, my head woozy and spinning.

I force myself to concentrate. “Shouldn’t there be boats or something?”

“Yeah.”

And even though he doesn’t say so, I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing.