Chapter 9 January 4th Avery's arm is heavy with sleep as I shift it off my abdomen and onto her hip so I can get up without waking her. The sun's not up quite yet, but I'm hoping to have better luck with fishing first thing in the morning than I have in the middle of the day. My dad took me fishing some as a kid, and while I'm not an expert by any means, I still remember that we always left at the ass-crack of dawn to get started because of something about the fish being more active. After tucking the leaf flap back into place on our makeshift shelter to keep the light from invading and waking up Avery, I pad softly through the sand down onto the beach, picking up the spear from its spot propped against a palm tree on the way. My stomach has stopped rumbling, despite how hungry I know my body is, and the fit of my pants, even though this is only the fourth day we've been here, is starting to get looser. I know from my college obsession with fitness that taking your diet to zero calories suddenly won't have an immediate crazy effect, but it doesn't take long to lose a pound or two or three when you're eating twenty-five hundred calories fewer a day than usual. Without having a way to predict how long we'll be here, or if someone is even remotely close to finding us, we need to get a routine down for finding a way to feed ourselves and quick. And, like it or not, fishing seems to be our only shot at protein. I know netting of some sort would be much easier than having to hit them with a freaking spear, but so far, I haven't figured out a material we'd be able to make work. Once again, Tom Hanks has let me down. Carefully scaling the rocks at the outer curl of the beach, I watch as little fish dart through the shallow water after bugs and other small debris. I take aim at one, blowing a breath through my nose to steady my racing heart, and throw my stick, striking the fish and successfully knocking it stunned for long enough to reach in and grab it. I scream unintentionally, the victory too big not to celebrate, and Avery pokes her sleepy head out the front of the tent not five seconds later. I wave and point to the fish, apologizing. "Sorry! I didn't mean to wake you, but I got one!" "Woo-hoo!" she cheers, stepping out into the sand and doing a cute little twerk that makes me laugh. "Go, Henry. Go, Henry. It's your birthday!" I chuckle and scale back across the rocks to toss the fish onto a sea grape leaf while I try to catch more. Avery surprises me by staying out of our tent and getting to work after a quick stretch. She empties the water collector into my hydration pack, seals it up after taking a quick drink, and then moves down onto the beach to stoke the fire with what we call the poker stick. Flames lick up again, the coals still hot from last night, and a surge of pride swells my chest. Maybe it's misplaced-because I don't have any role or title that gives me the right to be proud-but I'm truly amazed at how well she's coped and adapted to the situation. If you'd asked me a week ago how Avery Banks would handle being stranded on a deserted island, I'd have painted a very different picture-one that involved a lot more screaming and zero participation. Clearly, that wasn't fair. To pretend I knew the heart of who she is as a person from the little bit of interaction we've had over the years while out at the club or in her parents' house is shortsighted. Avery has always been interesting and attractive and kind-but this island is teaching me pretty quickly that she's a lot more things than that. I try for another fish-or seventy-for an hour and manage one more before calling it quits for the morning and joining Avery by the fire. She's already gotten the fish I caught first rinsed and cleaned as best as possible before skewering it on a stick and holding it over the fire to cook while I kept fishing. I wouldn't mind if she'd have eaten it too, but she didn't, saving it for us to share instead. "You didn't have to wait for me." "That's okay. I figured we could share this one and then cook the rest for later." I laugh. "Well, the rest is one more." "One more than I'd be able to catch," she says with a self-deprecating laugh. "I've never even had to buy my own food at the store. I use a service." "A service? Like they decide what to buy for you?" "They buy it and cook it." She rolls her eyes a little. "It's, like, a personal chef thing." "Ah," I hum. "Besides my meal prep for breakfast and lunch, I don't really eat at home. I just eat out." "And look at us now," she deadpans, shooting me a dry look. "Yeah." I snort. "Living the dream." "Fine dining on charred fish, sharing a bed with bugs, and getting genuinely excited about rain?" She shakes her head, laughing softly. "Honestly, can't believe I didn't major in survival at U of M. What a wasted education." "Hindsight is usually 20/20," I quip. "Speaking of careers, you're still working for Neil, right?" She shrugs. "When I feel like it, I guess." Such a fucking Avery Banks response. I cackle. "If you don't like working there, why don't you just get a job you like?" "Oh, get real, Henry." Avery's nose curls. "Are we really supposed to like jobs? What's to like about working?" My shoulders lift as I think about the company I've built for myself. It's not the traditional path, and I know not everyone starts with the opportunities I had, but building something based on your interests truly is the key to professional fulfillment. "They say if you do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life." "And that's how you feel?" "No," I admit. "That's bullshit. Of course, work is going to feel like work sometimes. But in my case, I get to spend half my time doing stuff I really love. Skydiving, rock-climbing, paragliding-I get to test new equipment to see how well it really works-" "Which sounds like a nightmare!" Avery cuts in. "Testing a parachute? Or fall gear? To see if it works! And that's fun? Say sike right now." I chuckle. "It's all been tested for function. I'm just testing the simplicity of operation or if something would make it better. It's fun." "I'll have to take your word for it. My one experience with skydiving is a little...tainted...I'd say." I snort. Uh, yeah. "So, what do you like to do? I know you like to dance at the clubs, and if Beau's stories are anything to go by, I know you like Starbucks. What else do you like?" "I like fashion. High-end stuff, obviously, but I've seen some really unique pieces coming out of the U of M fashion program, and I tend to keep up with that." "That's cool. Why don't you try to do something with that?" She scoffs, shaking her head. "Yeah, okay. Because Avery Banks trying to be serious about anything wouldn't be the biggest joke in Miami." I frown. "Why would it be a joke?" She lets out a short laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Come on, Henry. My entire life, Beau has been the successful one, the overachiever, the one everyone expects to do great things. Me? I play my part. I'm the fun one. The wild one. The one people invite to parties, not boardrooms." She shrugs like it's no big deal, but something about the way her voice tightens tells me otherwise. "No one's ever expected me to do anything, so I never bothered pretending like I would." I study her for a second, catching the way she won't meet my eyes. "That's a load of shit." Her head snaps up. "Excuse me?" "You're smart as hell, Avery. You could do anything you wanted. And you know it." She scoffs again, but this time, it's weaker. "Even if that were true, no one would take me seriously." I shake my head. "You ever think maybe you don't take yourself seriously first?" She flinches-barely, but I catch it. For a second, she looks like she might say something. That maybe I've hit a nerve too deep for her to ignore. But then she plasters on that effortless smirk, the one she's perfected over the years, and flicks her wrist like she's brushing the whole conversation away. "Well, lucky for me, I don't need a job, right? Daddy's money and all." I don't let her get away with it, though. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't do something for yourself." Avery rolls her eyes, but I see the flicker of something else beneath the surface. Something unsure. Something that tells me maybe, just maybe, she's thought about this more than she lets on. "We're going to get out of here," I say softly, finding her hazel eyes and holding them even when she seems like she wants to fight it. "I know sometimes it doesn't seem like it, and that it feels like we've been here forever, but I'm confident this isn't our eternity. We sure as hell shouldn't plan like it is." She chews her lip, her eyes turning shiny with unshed tears. "I really hope you're right." "I am," I say and try to make myself feel as confident as my words sound. "I mean, hell, you've got the boyfriend to go back to, right?" "The boyfriend," she says slowly, hiding her eyes from me by looking at her lap. "Yeah. And I mean, you have someone too. What's her name?" My chest feels tight with discomfort as I think about Ashley-my girlfriend whom I've only been with a short time and have thought about exactly zero times since we got on this island. She's a nice girl, but I know if I'm honest with myself, I'm only with her because all my friends have someone, and I don't want to be the odd man out. Being the only single guy of the whole group was starting to grate. "Ashley." "Well...there you go. I'll go back to Justin and you'll go back to Ashley, and...we'll carry on. One day. I guess." She groans. "All right, enough of this. I'm going to go for a swim. Want to come?" I shake my head. "Think I'll go ahead and cook this other fish." She nods, shucking her sweater to reveal her bikini, and wades into the water, diving into the incoming wave when it hits. And I find myself exhaling, scrubbing a hand down my face and wiping at my eyes to keep from staring at her perfect body in her bikini. She's so fucking beautiful. And I really shouldn't be thinking about that. Or the fact that I'm finding out that Avery is so much more than beauty. But every day we're here, I feel it creeping in-this thing between us. This pull. I know she's worried about being stuck here forever, but I'm starting to think about the opposite. Every day we're here together, I feel more and more like I might not know what to do without her when we leave.