Falling For My Worst Nightmare

CHAPTER 4

Avira's POV

When I finally broke the surface, gasping and choking on salt water, the first thing I saw was Kyle's face inches from mine. Water dripped from his hair, and his hands were still wrapped around my waist.

"Are you okay…" he started to say, his voice weirdly soft.

"GET OFF ME, YOU p*****t!" I shrieked, shoving him away with both hands. The brief moment of concern in his eyes immediately hardened back into coldness.

"p*****t?" Kyle's eyebrows shot up. "I just saved your f*****g life!"

"You didn't save anything! I can swim just fine!" I said, already backstroking away from him as fast as I could. "Don't you dare touch me ever again!"

"The feeling's mutual!" Kyle shouted back, his voice echoing across the water.

Behind me, I could hear him cursing as he struggled with the tangled parachute alone.

Good. Let him figure it out himself.

I reached the rocky shore first, hauling myself onto the sandy beach that was bordered by dense tropical vegetation. My legs gave out the moment I hit solid ground, and I collapsed onto the sand, my whole body shaking uncontrollably.

My clothes clung to me like a second skin, heavy and uncomfortable, but I couldn't seem to move. I just sat there, staring at my trembling hands as the reality of what had just happened crashed over me like another wave.

We'd almost died.

I'd been in a plane that was falling out of the sky. I'd jumped out of an aircraft thousands of feet above the ocean. I could have died. I should have died.

The tears came without warning, streaming down my face as my chest heaved with panicked sobs. All the adrenaline that had kept me moving, kept me fighting, suddenly drained away, leaving me feeling hollow and terrified.

"Oh God," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself as I rocked back and forth. "Oh God, oh God, we almost died."

I thought about the other passengers. The ones who didn't make it to a parachute. The ones who went down with the plane. What would their families do when they hear about the crash? Would a search team ever find us here?

Oh God… Dorathy. She would get a heart attack once she hears the news. She would probably feel deep guilt thinking I am dead and she’d caused it.

The sobs came harder, my whole body shaking with grief and shock and the overwhelming terror of being alive when others might not be.

I don't know how long I sat there crying. Long enough for my tears to dry on my cheeks, leaving salt tracks. Long enough for my breathing to slow from panicked gasps to shaky hiccups.

When I finally looked up, I took stock of our situation with red, swollen eyes.

Endless mass of palm trees were swaying in the breeze, with crystal blue water stretching endlessly in every direction. There was no sign of civilization anywhere.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I was officially stranded on a deserted island with the one person on Earth I'd rather feed to sharks.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand on unsteady legs. I had to focus on survival now. I couldn't fall apart completely - not when I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no rescue in sight.

Of all the people in the world, I thought furiously as I walked toward the dense vegetation, I had to be stranded on an island with HIM. The arrogant, slapping, parachute-stealing bastard who probably thought this was all some kind of inconvenience that his daddy's money could fix.

I began gathering dry sticks and palm fronds, my hands still shaking from the aftershocks of terror and grief. Every few minutes, I'd have to stop and take deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. The images kept flashing through my mind - the plane tilting, people screaming, the ground rushing up to meet us.

"Focus, Avira," I whispered to myself, wiping away fresh tears with the back of my hand. "You survived. You're alive. Now stay alive."

I needed shelter. I needed fire. I needed to figure out how the hell to survive on this island. And I needed to do it all while trying not to think about the fact that I might never see my family again - even though that family happens to be just my Godmother and best friend.

"Thank God for survival TV shows," I muttered under my breath as I arranged the dry sticks in a pyramid shape with trembling fingers. At least all those late-night Discovery Channel might actually be useful for something.

Then I paused as a horrible realization dawned on me. Where had the other passengers landed? The ones that had actually grabbed parachutes? Were they dead? Did they drown…

No. I couldn't think about that right now.

I focused on the fire instead, using a technique I'd seen on TV about rubbing sticks together. My hands were shaking so badly at first that I could barely hold the sticks steady. Every time the plane crash memory tried to surface, I pushed it down and focused harder on the task in front of me.

It took forever, and my hands were raw and blistering by the time I finally coaxed a tiny flame to life. When the kindling finally caught, I broke down crying again - but this time it was relief mixed with grief, triumph mixed with trauma.

"I'm alive," I whispered to the flames, my voice hoarse from crying. "I'm actually alive."

That's when I noticed Kyle had finally made it to shore, dragging the waterlogged parachute behind him like some kind of dejected sea monster.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Instead, I turned my back to him and focused on building up my fire. Let him figure out his own survival plan.

For the next hour, I could hear him moving around the beach, dragging things, arranging something. I didn't look. I didn't care. I was too busy gathering more firewood and trying to find anything edible among the tropical plants.

It was only when the sun started setting that I allowed myself a glance in his direction.

He'd built some kind of massive signal on the beach - S.O.S. spelled out in driftwood and palm fronds. Each letter was at least ten feet tall and perfectly aligned, like he'd used a ruler.

I had to admit, it was impressive. And practical. But I'd rather die than tell him that.

As darkness fell, the temperature began to drop. My fire crackled warmly, casting shadows across the sand. I sat beside it with my arms wrapped around my knees, thankful for the warmth. Then I heard footsteps.

I turned toward the sound and saw Kyle. He was moving slowly like he was approaching a wild animal. His suit was still damp, and I could see him shivering slightly in the cool night air.

"Listen," he began in a controlled voice. "I know we got off on the wrong foot…"

"Wrong foot?" I looked up at him with an incredulous expression. "You slapped me in public because I spilled coffee on your precious suit!"

"And you slapped me back!" Kyle protested, his composure cracking slightly. "So we're even!"

"Even?" My voice rose despite my attempt to stay calm. "Even would be if I got you fired from your job and made you internet famous for all the wrong reasons!”

Kyle's jaw clenched, his muscle jumping again like it had on the plane. "Look, can we just... put that aside for now? It's going to be a cold night, and…"

"And what?" I smiled sweetly, enjoying this more than I probably should. "You want to share my fire? The fire I built while you were playing interior decorator with driftwood?"

"I was building a signal for our rescue!"

"How thoughtful." I turned back to my fire, watching the flames dance. "I'm sure the rescue planes will really appreciate your artistic skills when they fly over tomorrow and find our frozen corpses."

I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. In his world, people probably jumped when he spoke. CEOs took his calls. He commanded respect wherever he went. But we weren't in his world anymore. Out here, his money and his name meant absolutely nothing.

"Please," he said, and the word sounded like it physically hurt him to say. "I'm asking nicely."

For a split second, something in his voice almost made me reconsider. He sounded... human. Vulnerable. Like maybe underneath all that arrogance, he was just as scared as I was.

But then I remembered the sting of his hand across my cheek, the humiliation, the way he'd called me stupid.

"And I'm saying no. Nicely." I kept my voice light and pleasant. "Good night, Mr. Luggard. Try not to freeze to death. It would really ruin my rescue story."

I didn't look at him as he stood there for what felt like an eternity, but I could feel his anger like heat from a furnace. Finally, he turned and stalked away into the jungle, crashing through palm fronds and thick vegetation like he was trying to destroy the whole island.

Good riddance.

I threw another stick to my fire and tried to ignore the tiny voice in the back of my head that whispered I was being cruel. He deserved it, I told myself firmly. He started this whole thing.

But as the hours passed and the jungle grew quieter, I found myself glancing toward the dark trees where he'd disappeared. The night sounds - insects chirping, leaves rustling, waves lapping against the shore - seemed louder without his presence nearby.

I was completely alone on a deserted island, and despite everything, that felt more terrifying than sharing it with Kyle Luggard. The crash trauma was still fresh, making every shadow seem threatening, every sound potentially dangerous.

My chest felt tight with anxiety, and I kept having flashes of the plane going down, the screaming, the feeling of falling through empty sky. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it together.

I must have dozed off at some point, because I was jolted awake by something moving in the bushes behind me.

At first, I thought it might be Kyle coming back to ask about the fire again. But the sound was different - rustling, snuffling, like something large pushing through the undergrowth.

My heart started beating faster. What kind of animals lived on islands like this? Were there wild boars? Bears? My mind raced through every nature documentary I'd ever seen, none of which had prepared me for this moment.

The rustling got louder, closer.

I grabbed a burning stick from the fire, holding it up like a torch. "Kyle?" I called out, my voice smaller than I intended. "Kyle, if that's you, this isn't funny!"

No answer.

The rustling stopped.

Everything went completely silent except for my own rapid breathing and the crackling of my fire.

Then I heard it - a low, rumbling growl that made every hair on my body stand up.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" A loud scream tore out of my throat. Whatever was in those bushes was definitely not Kyle.

"HELP!" I screamed again, scrambling backward toward the water. "OH GOD, HELP ME!"

I knew Kyle could probably hear me. I knew I'd just spent the evening being horrible to him, refusing to share my fire, practically wishing him dead.

But right now, he was the only other human being on this godforsaken island, and I had never been so scared in my entire life.