17. Jensen

CHAPTER 17

JENSEN

“ O h! I’m sorry,” I say, throwing up both hands as I nearly crash straight into Billie as she comes out of the kitchen. I take a big step back to give her some space. She smiles awkwardly at me, and the air prickles with tension.

Neither of us quite know how to act around each other anymore. I don’t blame her for not wanting to associate with me since she found out who I was. After all, she’s right. I did lie to her, and I am notorious for my conquests.

She probably thinks that I slept with her just for something to do.

I’m not even sure I could tell her that that wasn’t true and truly believe myself.

But it wasn’t just that. Yes, the sex was great, and she is so attractive, with her pouting lips and perfect breasts, but there was something in our relationship that was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

If she would just give me five minutes to try and explain that to her, maybe she would understand that I wasn’t taking advantage of her. If she would let me, I think I could love her.

But that ship has sailed and the bridge has burned, and I don’t want to push her into doing anything she doesn’t want to do.

So, all day yesterday and all day today we’ve been doing our strange little dance to avoid each other. We’re being polite enough to keep things civil, but we don’t quite know what to say either.

I don’t think there is much more to say.

The fact of the matter is I’ve betrayed her completely. And she’s never going to forgive me for that.

This isn’t at all how I thought my stay on the island would go. For a moment, I was under the delusion that our last day here in paradise would be spent in united bliss, me and her out taking photos and being together — well, her taking photos and me being completely useful as a camera holder. And I wouldn’t mind it because that’s basically the whole point of me now. To hold stuff and watch how it’s really done.

I was enjoying it for a time. But I suppose it could never have lasted.

This is what I get for trying to be normal.

As she makes her way into the communal area, she passes me on the sofa. She’s clearly on her way out, but I stop her. “Billie? Sorry to interrupt, but will you be back for dinner?” I give her my best smile to try and win her over. I would love one last meal with her.

Instead, she shrugs. “I don’t know. Why?” Her tone is harsher than I hope she means it to be, but it still pains me to hear her utter disdain for me.

“It’s just, you know, I could make something. If you wanted. You know, take the stress off a little bit.”

She shrugs again and gives me a thin smile. “That would be good, I guess,” she says. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I beam. It’s not much, but it’s more than anything she’s given me these last couple of days, so I’ll take it.

I miss how easy we used to feel. I miss the way things were when we were friends.

Billie heads out, and I have no doubt she’ll be gone all day, on a joint mission of avoiding me like the plague and trying to make the most of her last day on the island.

After all, she has a real job to do.

I entertain myself for a while by browsing through a couple of the books on the shelf. I’ve read quite a few of them now, and I’m planning to buy my own copies when I get home.

Eventually, I get bored of being inside and decide to take a walk on the beach. As I get up, I notice Billie’s laptop lying on the table, and it calls to me. I stare at it for a long moment, almost tempted to open it up and see if I can guess her password. I just want to look at some more of her pictures.

But she already hates me enough right now. The last thing I need is for her to come home and catch me hacking into her computer. If she saw me doing that, there’s no chance she would ever forgive me.

So I resist temptation and head out into the open.

It’s another gorgeous summer’s day on Mostaza. The sky is slightly hazy from the heat, but it’s a brilliant blue, washed through with clouds that look like little strands of cotton candy. To my left and my right is a beautiful, pale beach with the softest sand I’ve ever felt, and behind me is the loud, thick forest that holds so many creatures that I could never have imagined seeing.

And then, before me, is the great expanse of the ocean.

As far as I can see is water, the clear waves breaking on the shore, the constant white noise of the tide causing something to settle inside me, to grow calm.

If only I could stay like this forever.

I walk down the beach until I lose sight of the cabin. Like this, I could easily pretend I was the only person left on the planet. Like it was just me and the sea and the insects screaming in the forest. Oh, and the turtles of course.

The thing is, I don’t want it to be just me. I want Billie to be here too. Why did I have to screw things up so much?

When I get back, my skin is hot from the sun and I feel itchy and uncomfortable. Much as I might like the idea, I don’t think I’m designed for this kind of life full-time. I miss my phone too much.

I swing into the kitchen and see that the clock reads four thirty. Billie’s not back yet, and she’ll be hungry from her long day, so I decide to take my opportunity to make her one last dinner, just as I promised I would.

I’m pretty much a pro when it comes to operating a stove now, and I’ve been paying attention to her for the last two weeks. I’ve noticed that her favorite is the chicken casserole, so I rummage through the cupboards looking for a can.

I really want to make her smile again.

“Aha!” I exclaim as I spot a can of casserole right at the back of the cupboard. Grinning, I hook my finger under the pull tab, rip off the lid, and dump it into a saucepan.

I stir the pot, humming to myself as it begins to bubble. I don’t dare to leave the kitchen while it’s cooking, afraid that it might set fire or explode or something. It would be typical of me — can’t start a fire when I want to, but when I don’t… It’s not worth thinking about.

I’m going to make Billie dinner, and that’s going to make her smile.

I guess I mistimed it, though, because she’s nowhere to be seen when the casserole is ready. I’m tempted to wait for her to get back to eat, thinking it might be nice to share a meal for our last day together.

But I don’t want to put her in an awkward position, so I scoop my portion out into a bowl and eat slowly, staring off into the horizon as I do. I can only drag it out for so long, though. It looks like she won’t be back anytime soon.

I get up to put my bowl in the sink, and that’s when I hear her footsteps outside.

I freeze.

Does she want to see me? Of course not. I want to see her, more than anything. But she wants space. I have to respect that.

Quickly, I rinse out my bowl and scurry away to my room. We miss each other by a hair, because the second I cross the threshold to my room, I see her in the crack of my door as I shut it, entering the kitchen.

And it’s probably my imagination, but I could swear I hear her say “Thank you.”