Page 61 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

“I guess we can go to bed now,” I say after we finish eating.

“Sure. I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars. Maybe I manifested this.”

I snort. “My team probably helped. They hate me.”

He jerks his head toward me. “People don’t hate you, Jason.”

“You sure?”

He’s quiet. His gaze is on me, heavy and searching.

I want to bolt. But I don’t

“If it helps,” he says, “I’ll probably get fired when we get back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I left the country in my first week at work.”

I laugh despite myself. “That’s probably not in the onboarding materials.”

“I charged the flight to the work card,” he adds. “And the hotel.”

“The five-star hotel.”

“Think they’re still charging me? I didn’t check out. I even put up a do-not-disturb sign.”

“You didn’t.”

“Idid!”

We dissolve into laughter.

“Why’d you become a reporter?” I ask when our laughter fades.

“I wanted to stay in sports. Even if I wasn’t good enough to play.”

“Sports Sphere is pretty major.”

“Still gonna suck to be fired.”

“We could stay here. I’ll tell the rescue boat to keep going.”

He chuckles, and something inside me melts.

“Tomorrow night we’ll get the fire working,” I promise. “Once everything’s dry. It’ll be great.”

“Maybe we’ll be rescued tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.” I smile at the stars, hoping I haven’t told him another lie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Cal

It’s chilly. Of course, it’s chilly. It’s nighttime, and usually at night I sleep under blankets in a place with walls and insulation and a fucking roof.

“If we don’t get rescued, we could use the fire to warm up rocks,” I say, then regret it.