Page 82 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

Jeremy scrunches his lips together, and it’s all I can do to not say exactly how kind and loving Jason is.

My gaze moves to Jason. His face is carefully blank, and uncertainty moves through me.

God, maybe I did concoct everything in a fever dream.

No. Not true.

“He taught me how to swim,” I tell Jeremy, because I can at least say that.

Wonder doesn’t appear in my roommate’s eyes. “Holy shit, you have a crush.”

“I don’t!”

Jeremy eyes me skeptically.

Does it count as a crush if technically it’s sort of requited? At least, it was.

Now everything is unsure.

Ten minutes ago, I imagined that Jason and I had an infinite amount of time together.

And now I have no idea what he’s thinking.

Well, he’s probably hoping I won’t reveal anything.

And I won’t.

I sigh and join Rex at the helicopter, Jeremy trailing after me.

I give Rex an awkward smile. He came to rescue me, which is super nice from a life survival point of view, but probably doesn’t win me any employee of the month awards.

“Thank you,” I tell Rex.

Rex gives me one of his assertive nods. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t come.”

Rex grimaces. “I apologize. I didn’t understand how big the assignment was when I gave it to you.”

My eyes flick shut. I’m going to have to tell him I can’t write the article. “It’s fine.”

Rex gives me a manly slap on the back, and the helicopter pilot helps me inside and directs me to my seat. Jason sits in the row in front of me.

Once we’re all strapped in, the helicopter moves upward. I crane my neck down, realizing this is the last time I’ll ever see the island.

The HELP messages have been cleared away to not confuse people in the future.

Then the helicopter’s blades drown all my thoughts, and we’re flying away, away, away.

Jason turns once to give me a soft smile, then spends the rest of the ride facing forward, while I spend the rest of the ride wondering if Jason and I really had sex.

At the airport, everything moves in a blur of fluorescent lights and official paperwork. Rex handles most of the logistics while Jeremy hovers protectively near me, shooting suspicious glances at Jason whenever he gets too close.

“There’s only one flight to Boston today,” Rex explains as we approach the ticket counter. “Cal, I got your ticket already. Lucky timing.”

Jason steps up to the counter to handle his own ticket, pulling out a credit card that probably has no limit. The contrast between us hits me again. He’s a multi-millionaire athlete, and I’m a junior journalist whose biggest expense this month was first and last rent to a small North End apartment I share with another guy.

But then I hear him talking quietly to the agent, and something in his tone makes me pay attention.