Chapter 6 Avery sits on the beach but in the shade of a palm frond, her normally supple, even-toned skin taking on a reddening aesthetic as she fans herself with a hand. I'm lucky enough to have the kind of complexion that takes a flamethrower to really burn, and so far, I've done nothing but darken even further, but Avery's already fighting for her life. Even living in Miami, our day-to-day lives are spent in and out of buildings. All this sun exposure is completely outside of our normal routine, and the two of us will have to be careful not to get sun poisoning without any hope of getting treatment. Her normally silky, dark hair is frizzy, and her precious shoes are covered in both dirt and debris from our short trek around the island earlier, but she's in much better spirits than yesterday and, frankly, I'm impressed. This kind of adversity would be too much for anyone, let alone a woman who's spent her literal entire life being catered to. Food, clothes, time, energy-all of it has been at her disposal and whim from the day she was born until yesterday morning. All thanks to my father's lucrative career in hedge funds, I may be rich and come from money, but everything I have now-every dollar in my bank account, every asset in my name-is because of the company I built on my own back, Adrenaline Junkie. My mom left my dad and me when I was a kid, and a few months ago, my dad left too-though it wasn't exactly his choice. Fuck cancer very much. For me, this? Being stranded? It's just another chink in the chain in a lifetime of less-than-ideal scenarios. "Henry, I hope you know you're literally morphing into Tom Hanks before my eyes." I scoff, sharpening the stick I procured to use for spearfishing while we were out exploring. "Really. Morphing before your eyes, huh?" "Yep." Avery nods, her face steady. "I expect a full monologue about your beloved volleyball Wilson before bedtime." "You'll have to find one first. I, unfortunately, didn't have the foresight to go down on a plane full of FedEx packages." "I'll get started now." I laugh, shaking my head. "Or-wild idea-you could come help me catch us some dinner instead." "Yeah, no." She grimaces, her lip curling as she stretches her hands out in front of herself and laces her fingers together, pushing her palms out. "I don't really like fish." My laughter rings out in the quiet around us like a gunshot. "Yes, you do. Are you forgetting that I've known you nearly all your life, Avery? You ate fish at Christmas, like, a week ago." "That was salmon dip," she explains, holding her hands out to her sides. "Not some wild-caught island squidward thing! I eat fish, but I only eat fish." The final word drips with snobbery, and once again, I can't help but laugh. "Oh my God. The level of delusion is off the charts." I smirk and mimic her tone. "We have fish. Plain and simple. So, you can either eat it, or you can go hungry." She scowls, a stubborn streak kicking in. "I'll go hungry, then. I've been meaning to start a diet anyway." I want to tell her to fucking starve, then-I mean, fuck, she's a pain in the ass. But the part of me that knows how different this is from her real life forces me to gentle parent her instead. "Avery, come on. You have to eat. Both of us staying strong and healthy is our best chance at making it long enough for people to find us." She makes a mocking face, mouthing my words like a chipmunk, and just like that, all my patience is gone. There's no way we're going to survive this shit if I have to fight her every step of the way. "Are you a child? What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout, the strain making my neck feel tight. She raises an eyebrow in challenge, so I push it, leaning toward her and raising my voice even more. "I mean, fuck, Avery. I know you're sheltered, but it doesn't take a genius to realize we're just a couple weeks away from starving to death," I rail, frustration getting the better of me to the point of being mean. Her face crumples and she shoves to her feet, and immediately, I regret losing my cool. Gone is the headstrong woman I know, and in her place is someone who's scared out of her mind and barely hanging on. Her whole body shakes as she tries to contain herself, but when it's too much, she spins in the sand and takes off. No volleying insults, no smart retort. Because of me, all the progress she's made toward keeping it together is gone. "I'm sorry," I call out as she runs toward the shelter, her cries audible even from my spot near the water. "Avery, I'm sorry." She doesn't turn around and she doesn't look back, and tired from the emotional toll of it all, I don't go after her. I know I should, but I just...can't. Neither of us signed up for this, and despite it being only our second day on the island, it feels like a lifetime. Instead, I work on the things I can control, like finishing my fishing spear and trying for two solid hours to come up with a single fucking fish. One. One freaking fish in two long, really fucking hot hours, and I only got him because my spear glanced off his head at just the right angle to stun him. Tom Hanks, my ass. He made it look a hell of a lot easier than this. A few hours later, when Avery walks out of the makeshift tent, her face is as contrite as I imagine my own. Both of us feel badly for having lashed out at each other; that much is obvious, even if saying it aloud cuts a little too close to the bone. The sun is down and the moon is out, and as far as I'm concerned, that may as well mean our fight happened on a different planet. Timidly, Avery takes a seat in the sand on the other side of the fire, and I offer the remaining half of the fish I saved for her to eat should she change her mind and want it. Her nose scrunches as she takes it and puts it to her mouth to try a bite, and I smother a smile of both pride and gratitude that we don't have to fight about this anymore. I know the taste is bland, the only appeal the gentle smokiness from the fire, but it's sustenance, and at this point, that's what's important. Two hours have passed since I sent her running into the tent crying, and things, seemingly, are as back to normal as normal gets when you're stranded in the middle of nowhere with no communication with the outside world. When she takes a second bite, I clear my throat and test out bringing polite conversation back between us. A lot of topics seem tricky, given our circumstances, but there's one thing Avery loves more than anything in this world-her best friend, Juniper. "You think June went all Helen Hunt when she found out we didn't make it to our destination yesterday?" I ask, trying to cut some of the lingering tension with humor. "Like, has the Coast Guard been involved and a whole map with search grids and shit?" Avery nods. "I'm sure. She's probably ready to strap herself inside a helicopter, not that Beau'll let her." A frown creases her forehead. "I just hope she's not stressing herself too much with the baby and all." "She's strong," I say with reassurance. "I'm sure she's out there rolling heads but taking care of herself at the same time. And if she's not, Beau will do it for her." "She's the strongest person I've ever met," Avery agrees, glancing at me in a flash of firelight that makes me feel a tingle of vulnerability. This is probably the most serious I've ever seen her, and in some ways, I don't know what to do with it. We've always had a chemistry between us, but her personality is normally a force field against it. Seeing the exposed raw edges of what's underneath might just make us both a little too defenseless. "Other than you, actually," she adds quietly. "Both of you are stronger than I'll ever be." The compliment is both fortifying and uncomfortable, and my fingers tingle with an overwhelming surge of anxiety. She has no idea that being strong is usually happening when you feel your very weakest. And for good reason. Resilience, as it were, is best tested under a load, and for better or worse, Avery's never had to carry much of anything on her own. Until now, that is. "Are you kidding?" I say, my voice as warm as I can manage, given the subject matter. "Avery, look at us. At where we are and what we're dealing with. It's at complete odds with your normal life, and yet you're rallying. You took my direction on the dive and fought in the water just like I told you. You've adapted to the circumstances and, despite not wanting to, just ate that stupid fish because you know it's the best thing for both of us. I think you're handling everything really well." Avery smiles, and for the first time, without the perfectly curated makeup, the designer clothes, the endless distractions of her world, I feel like I'm really seeing her. No parties to get to. No stores to shop at. No shiny things to show off. It's just her. And me. And the wild, wide open. The moon looks massive out here, hanging over the water like something out of a painting, making me feel incredibly small in the scheme of things. Making us feel small. And yet, all I can focus on is her. The way the firelight flickers against her skin, casting shadows over the delicate slope of her nose, the high arch of her cheekbones, the deep golden of her hazel eyes. Avery has always been my best friend's little sister-the one with the beautiful eyes and gorgeous smile and a personality too big for any one room to contain. But today, on day two of no one but each other to count on, she's turning out to be a hell of a lot more. Millions of expected things. And even more surprises. I mean, she's a virgin, for fuck's sake. Avery. Boy-crazy, kiss-crazy, plain-crazy Avery. Tonight feels too fragile to push anything further-especially since she was mad at me no less than ten minutes ago-but tomorrow, I'm making it my mission to figure out why. "Well, thanks," she says, stretching her legs out toward the fire. "But will you change your mind if I complain about how much I miss my warm bed and Starbucks and, ah God, Marty, my nail tech...he's going to be wondering where I am!" Shaking my head, I laugh softly and watch as the fire pops and crackles and sparks into the pitch-black night sky. "Nah. I'd say those are fair complaints. It's all the stuff you're used to." "And what about you?" she hedges. "What are your complaints-other than being here with me?" "Complain about being stuck here with a beautiful woman? Are you kidding? I could be having to cuddle with Ronnie at night right now. Or Mav. Trust me, I am not complaining about being here with you." Avery smiles. "You think I'm beautiful?" I roll my eyes. "You know you're beautiful." "Pshh. Duh. But you think I'm beautiful." "Yes," I say simply. "You, Avery Banks, are beautiful." Avery tucks her face behind her legs, but I can tell by the small creases at the sides of her eyes that she's enjoying this a lot. That's no surprise, though. If there's one thing she's always loved, it's bringing a man to his knees. Her dad. Her brother. Her many boy toys. Me. We're all at her mercy. In Miami, I'm able to keep her at a distance, but here...here, everything is different. And though I don't dare voice it, not feeling in control of my own emotions is my biggest, most pertinent complaint.