Something Like Perfect

by Stephens, S. C.

  “I know,” he muttered, his voice also rough with emotion. “I can’t believe this happened,” he whispered. “We weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the storm.”

  Looking over at him, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Why did you . . . why did you run into the boat for me? You could have been killed.”

  His brows furrowed as he stared at me. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died and I hadn’t done anything.” His voice cracked, and he paused before continuing. “Not trying to save you wasn’t an option.”

  “Thank you, Jake. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  “I wouldn’t thank me quite yet. We’re not exactly in the clear,” he said in response. That was definitely true. The ocean was still furious, and our little makeshift raft was rising and falling on huge swells that made me sick to my stomach. All we could do was hold on as the chilly water assaulted us and pray that we didn’t fall off or tip over. God, I hoped it ended soon.

  Finally, what felt like years later, the ocean calmed, and peace resumed. Jake and I relaxed against the wood, loosening our death grip somewhat. I looked around the ocean, hoping that sometime during the turmoil of the storm, another survivor had popped to the surface, but no . . . it was still just Jake and me, alone on a seemingly endless ocean with no sign of land—or help—in sight. As I glanced up at the sun continuing its descent toward the horizon, I started to fill with worry.

  “What do we do now?” I asked. Had we survived a sinking ship just to die of thirst on this makeshift raft?

  “I don’t know,” Jake said.

  His words were like a blow to my heart. I’d somehow expected him to have an answer to my impossible question, like maybe all captains in training were taught about this very unlikely scenario and he’d know exactly what our next step should be. The fact that he didn’t know what to do any more than I did was crushing.

  We fell into an uneasy silence after that. There was nothing more to say on the subject, and we were both too shell shocked to chitchat. Either we were going to somehow be miraculously saved, or we were going to die right here, along with everyone else.

  I tried not to think about it and instead focused on the now-gentle rocking motion of the ocean. Strange how something so terrifying could now be comforting. Pretending I was back on the boat, safe and sound and trying not to be nauseous, I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over. The need to sleep was overwhelming, and I could feel my consciousness slipping. Before I completely went under, I felt cool fingers wrap around mine. I held them tightly, never wanting to let go. A lone tear rolled down my cheek as today’s events started replaying in my tired mind. I should have been dead right now, forever asleep at the bottom of the ocean. But I wasn’t because of Jake, and maybe we only had a slim chance of survival, but at least we had a chance. The others didn’t.

  “Thank you for saving me,” I murmured into the still air. I was so grateful for his presence, for his kindness. He’d always meant a lot to me, but now . . . now he was something else entirely.

  Jake didn’t answer me for the longest time, but just as sleep began sucking me under, I heard him say, “You’re welcome, Valerie.”

  The next forty-eight hours were absolute misery. The sun pounded down on us during the day, stripping us of what precious internal water we had. My dark pants kept my legs protected, but I’d only been wearing a tank top under my chef’s jacket, and my arms and face were horribly burned. Jake was suffering from the rays too. Like me, his pants kept his legs safe, but his exposed arms and face were just as battered as mine. The sun wasn’t what was truly bothering me, though. It was the hunger and, even worse, the thirst. Being surrounded by water only added to the agony. My mind knew I couldn’t drink the salty solution beneath me, but my body didn’t care anymore. My defeated heart kept whispering, Drink it. Maybe it will help you die faster. Because at this point, choosing how to die seemed like my only option.

  Just when I thought to broach the subject with Jake, he clasped my hand. Like he could read my thoughts—or his body was telling him the same thing—he said, “We’ll make it. Don’t give up.”

  I sighed in answer, then resumed slowly dying in silence.

  Jake and I had been conserving our energy for days, barely speaking and usually resting with our eyes closed. I felt so weak, like even breathing was a struggle, and as evening settled around us, I somehow knew—I was never going to wake back up. A part of me wanted to say something to Jake, a deep and meaningful goodbye in which I admitted just how much I cared about him, how I secretly wished we had been together for the last six months, not him and my sister . . . but I was too tired to muster the words. Instead, I soaked in the beauty of the sun setting . . . memorizing its perfection, vowing to hold on to the image until the very last beat of my heart. Then I closed my eyes and quietly let sleep settle over me for the very last time.

  To my absolute shock, consciousness returned to me as the warmth of the sun hit my face. A small part of me wished it hadn’t; peacefully passing away in my sleep sounded glorious. I inhaled a deep, reluctant breath . . . and that was when I noticed something was different. We weren’t rocking anymore.

  My eyes sprang open. The blazing sun briefly stole my vision, so I shifted my focus to my ears. Waves. I could hear waves crashing, breaking against . . . something. And birds . . . birds squawking to each other. As my sight returned, I twisted my head to the side. Shock flooded through me as a seemingly endless stretch of pristine white sand filled my vision. Oh my God . . . land. I sat up quickly, and my head spun. My vision flexed and twisted, but even through the chaos, I could make out the beach underneath us, the ocean gently lapping at our feet, as if saying goodbye.

  I shifted to Jake. He was still, silent. Icy fear shot through me. God, please don’t let him die now, not when we’ve finally made it through. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I gently rocked him. “Jake . . . wake up.”

  He didn’t move. He was so still I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. I shook him harder, spoke his name louder, but still nothing. Panic and fear squeezed my chest, making it hard to breathe. No, I couldn’t lose him. I didn’t know what I’d do without him. Not knowing what else to do, I slapped his face. His eyes instantly shot open, and he gasped in a deep, startled breath. His panicked eyes shot to mine, and I cringed. “Sorry, you weren’t waking up. I thought you might have . . .”

  I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry to make the movement. Jake closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice equally raw.

  Glee at my discovery made me shake him again. “Jake . . . we’re here. We made it.”

  His eyes reluctantly reopened. “Made it where?”

  “Anywhere but out there,” I answered, pointing to the water.

  That was when Jake seemed to realize we were no longer stranded on the ocean. He bolted upright, then groaned and clutched his head. When his vision settled, he looked around at the oasis we’d stumbled upon. Then his cracked lips parted into a wide smile, and he started laughing—belly laughing. I joined him, and as I did, days of emotional agony lifted from my soul. We’d found a way to live, and I was positive that we could live here. Beyond the beach was a lush green forest. That meant water. That meant food. That meant survival.

  Jake struggled to his feet. I could only make it to my knees—I’d never been so weak in all my life. My depleted muscles shook as I set one foot on the wooden raft. I groaned, cringed, and cried out in pain as I lifted my weight to standing, but I did it. And just that small feat felt like a momentous victory.

  Jake grimaced, too, as he worked to get his muscles moving properly. “You okay?” he grunted.

  “I will be when we find water,” I told him. Just the thought of drinking made me want to cry.

  A smile on his face, Jake nodded and turned to examine the landscape. As I turned to look with him, my heart sank. The island seemed huge, larger than life, since I was so desperate for nourishment. We were so close, and yet i
t still seemed so far. “Jake, we’ll never find . . . it’s too far . . .”

  I wanted to sit back down; I could feel my knees buckling, threatening to do just that. I also knew getting up again would require more willpower than I had. Staying upright was a necessity, just as much as finding water.

  Jake grabbed my hand, locking us tightly together, and the contact sent a much-needed jolt of adrenaline through me. The look on his face seemed to say, You go, I go, and I found strength in that. We were each other’s buoys in this turbulent new water. I wasn’t about to let him falter, and I knew he wouldn’t let me falter either. “We just need water,” he said. “Any source will do for now.”

  I nodded, then took one trudging step toward the jungle. Salvation was that way.

  We entered the coolness of the forest, and I exhaled in relief as the branches shaded us from the harsh sunlight—my arms and shoulders were a shocking shade of pink, cracked and bleeding, and from the pain, I had to imagine my face was the same. After this, I seriously doubted I’d ever sit in the sun for fun again. Jake stepped away from me and began examining the ground, the bushes, the large tree leaves low enough to grab. Finally, he smiled and looked over at me. “Here, a tiny bit.”

  I stumbled my way over to where he was holding a gigantic leaf in his hands. In the middle of the leaf was a small pool of water, left over from a recent rainstorm. He lifted it to my lips, and I eagerly drank it down. It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy my thirst, but it gave me a surprising amount of energy. I started searching all the leaves I could, while Jake found some of his own to drink from. Several minutes later, I felt renewed. Nowhere near satiated, but to the point where I was pretty sure I wouldn’t die tonight. Not from thirst, anyway.

  Once Jake and I had taken every speck of water nearby that we could find, we began heading deeper into the jungle to find a more substantial supply. Traipsing through the thick foliage was grueling, and knowing that we had no idea if we were heading in the right direction or not made anxiety pulse through my veins. I was so tired, and I just wanted to rest, but the thought of filling my belly to the point of bursting with refreshing H2O was too much of a draw to quit. I’d keep following Jake through these woods until I collapsed. Or until he did.

  Plants scratched at us, leaving long, burning claw marks down our arms; thick swarms of bugs bit every inch of tender skin they could find; and the coolness on the outskirts of the jungle quickly turned to a muggy, humid, sweltering bog of heat that made beads of sweat constantly drip down my skin, dampening my clothes. I was thirsty enough that I contemplated wringing out my tank top and drinking the sweat to take back the precious moisture. But I knew, just like the ocean, sweat was far too salty. I needed cool, fresh, clean water. I needed a stream . . . just like that one.

  I stopped in my tracks, staring in awe at the water flowing through the shallow creek beside me. “Jake!” I screeched, turning to look over to my right, where he was aimlessly continuing forward, deeper into the woods. He stopped when he heard my voice and looked back at me with an almost dazed expression on his face. “Water,” I squealed, pointing to the ground.

  He was by my side in an instant, eager to see what I’d found. The quiet brook wasn’t much, but we wanted it so badly it seemed like a gushing waterfall. “You did it,” Jake said, smiling at me.

  I wanted to object—all I’d done was nearly stumble into the thing—but I was too desperate for a drink to be humble. Jake and I dropped to our knees and instantly began scooping the water into our hands. The heaven-sent liquid was nearly to my mouth when a thought struck me. “Is it safe to drink?” I quickly asked. I didn’t want to be saved from dehydration only to die from dysentery.

  Jake paused with his scooped hands to his lips. Lowering them, he studied the stream. “There’s a lot of movement here . . . a lot of rocks, a lot of sand to filter out bacteria. It should be fine.”

  The word should didn’t fill me with confidence, but in the end, it didn’t really matter if the water was clean or not. We needed this, and we didn’t have a way to boil it right now, so drinking it straight from the source was our only option. Please let this be fine.

  With that wish in my head, I gulped the water down. To my delight, it didn’t taste murky or stagnant. It was perfect: crisp and refreshing, just about the best water I’d had in my entire life. I was giggling in between handfuls, so grateful and happy to have something that until now, I’d taken for granted every single day of my life.

  Jake watched me with a wide grin on his face, and for the first time since we’d found ourselves in this hell, his eyes shone with life, strength, and determination. It was captivating and enticing, and it made my stomach flutter with exhilarating butterflies. I was starting to feel like we might be okay after all, which brought a new realization to the surface. We’d survived the ocean, but now we were trapped on an island together. Alone. With no end to our isolation in sight. There was already so much tension between us. Would I be able to stop the attraction from growing into more? Would I be able to keep resisting him? We had to keep staying away from each other, because anything happening between us would hurt my sister. God . . . Kylie. How the hell would she get through believing she’d lost both of us? Did she already know something was wrong? Was she already worried, scared? And what about my mom and dad? Steph, Alicia, Chloe . . .

  I had to forcefully shove those thoughts from my brain. Now wasn’t the time to worry about our loved ones. Our survival was still too fragile.

  When both of us had had our fill of water, we began carefully washing the grime and sweat from our sunburned bodies. While I was grateful for the small stream, I really wished it were a deep pool so I could cool my burning skin and bathe the filth of the last few days from me. Maybe rinse out my clothes and my hair. God, I wished I had soap. And toothpaste. And a brush. And more clothes. And pots and pans . . . and a bed. Thinking of everything we didn’t have made me frown. I was pretty certain we could survive here, but how would we live?

  “What is it?” Jake asked, jade eyes studying my face.

  “I just . . . how are we going to do this, Jake? There’s so much we don’t have . . .” I shook my head as despair washed through me. “Everything. What we don’t have is everything.”

  Smiling, he pointed at the stream. “Not true. We have water now. That’s something we didn’t have a few minutes ago. So see: our lives have already improved.” He looked so chipper now that he was refreshed, but my point was a valid one.

  I raised an eyebrow at his statement. “I’m serious. What do we do?”

  Pressing his damaged lips together, he watched me for a moment before answering, “We follow the stream until we find a bigger source of water. That’s what we do.”

  “But what about after that? We have no tools to build a shelter with, no weapons to hunt with; we don’t even have a way to boil the water.”

  Keeping constant eye contact with me, Jake shook his head. “We follow the stream until we find a bigger source of water,” he slowly repeated.

  I let out a long exhale, then nodded. He was subtly telling me not to stress about future worries, to only focus on one action at a time. We would figure out each new problem as we came across it. But for now, we had an immediate plan, and I was going to cling to it with every scrap of hope I possessed.

  Jake and I got to our feet. Jake removed his socks and washed his toes in the water, and even though it wouldn’t matter the minute we started moving again, I did the same. The muddy forest floor squishing between my toes made me long for my shoes, but they were long gone . . . beginning to rot in the salty ocean. Along with . . . too many other things.

  Chef Sinclair’s soulless eyes flashed through my head, and my entire chest constricted with pain. Not now. Later—I’ll mourn later. There was too much to do now. Forcing painful thoughts out of my brain, I followed Jake when he began tracking the stream. We found some strange red-and-green tropical fruit along the way. Jake handed me some, telling me that he thought they wer
e fine to eat, and I eagerly consumed them. Thirst had been my main concern, but hunger had been gnawing a hole through my stomach for an eternity. The sweet fruit wasn’t enough to fill the hole, but it did relieve a portion of the pain.

  It felt like hours went by as we followed the water. Maybe it was my imagination, but the forest seemed to be getting darker, gloomier. But then we heard the telltale sound of splashing water. It was different from waves upon the shore but just as distinct. Jake turned to me, a glow in his eyes.

  “Waterfall,” we both said at the same time.

  We rushed forward through the brush and came to a sunlit clearing. In the center of that clearing was a crystalline pool of water, begging for me to jump inside it. It backed up against a steep cliff of rock that surging water was cascading down in a never-ending sheet. Oh my God, we’d just found a faucet, bath, and shower.

  Jake laughed as he looked around. When he turned to me, he let out a long, relieved exhale. “I think we just found our new home.”

  Smiling at the beautiful scene before me, I nodded. “Yes, I think we did.” For better or worse, we at least had a spot to call our own now. And that fact brought me more comfort than I’d ever thought it would.

  Chapter Nine

  After a couple of days of floating on a small piece of decking, it was strange to have so much room to walk around. And it was even stranger to have Jake so far away from me—even if it was just a few feet. I’d gotten used to having him close enough to touch at all times. His extreme nearness had given me comfort during the dark times, when I’d been sure we’d never make it off the ocean. I’d always been insanely attracted to him, but now, I found myself desperately needing his companionship.

  But we’d made it off the water, and now it was time for things to get back to normal. Well, what passed for normal here on an island. Or for us. Things had always been charged and awkward between us. What would it be like now that we were all there was?