Stranded with the Rockstar (Rockstar #1)

5. Sunny

It's new. Well...not new new. It's obviously been sitting in this spot for a long time, but my first thought had been that it was an ancient artifact. However, based on the coating covering it, I can tell that it's from the last twenty years or so.

And that  can only mean one thing. Someone lives here.

Or if I want to lean toward the glass-half-empty side of myself, they used to live here.

"We have to keep moving." I have a renewed sense of energy. I'd never admit it out loud, but I was actually grateful to take a break. With each passing minute, my hopes of actually finding help dwindled.

I expect Harry to argue, but he's already out of the water and striding toward me. The thin material of his boxers are clinging to the skin on his thighs, and his T-shirt is sticking to his chest. When I feel the blood rushing to my face, I tear my eyes away.

"Holy shit," he says before cupping his hands around his mouth, yelling into the trees. "Heeeelllllo! Help us!"

He turns from me, still yelling, and I can see the muscles on his back and shoulders flex with each syllable.

Why am I staring at him like this? There are guys back home on the ranch that have better builds, and I don't ogle at them.

But I have to admit that there is something about the angle that his back makes from his shoulders to his hips—perfectly proportioned. And the way his hair is sticking up in all directions from where the water is weighing it down—like he just ran his hands through it. When he turns around, I can see the tattoos on his chest and flat stomach. They look blurry through the wet fabric of his shirt.

I have to stop this. It's only because of how we slept last night, I know it. I've never been held through the night like that, and I don't think I would have slept a wink without the feel of his arms around me, protecting me, keeping me warm.

The disturbing part was this morning. I was no longer cold. I didn't need to be close to him, but I was. I would have thought my body might instinctively separate us, but it didn't.

No, I woke up with my head on his shoulder and, for a split second, I liked it there—before I remembered who he was, and who I am, and where we are.

I knew I needed to distance myself from him. If not physically, then mentally. No small talk, no banter—just two people trying to survive and get rescued before never seeing each other again.

Of course it only confirmed my instinct when I found out that he didn't even know my name. He is just as self-absorbed as I had assumed he was.

Harry has continued yelling with no result, and as he sucks in a breath, ready to give it another go, I stop him. "I think they would have responded by now if they had heard you. If we keep moving, do you think we'll maybe run into them?"

He scans the forest one more time, like he's trying to decide how to answer, before giving me a quick nod. I return to the leader position as I guide us through the trees until we reach the beach again.

I wish I would have gotten in the water after all. The sand is hot on our feet now that it is mid-day and the heat from the sun feels like a sauna under a heat lamp. Harry's body temperature is probably much cooler than mine is at the moment. But there was simply no way I could have.

I've already slept with a boy for the first time on this island. I don't need to have a boy see me in my underwear for the first time as well.

I find myself excited about being rescued, despite not knowing exactly how that's going to happen. But all we need to do is find people. We'll work it out from there.