“So, what, I’m stuck now? Until when?”
Lincoln looks down at his watch. The watch that isn’t fancy, but one I might see on a survivalist who is living in the jungle. His lips quark to the side and nods his head. “You’re going to be stuck here for about two hours, give or take a few minutes. Normally it wouldn’t be so bad, but there was a hurricane of the coast a few days ago, and the tides are still recovering.”
“They will never forgive me for this,” I speak out loud.
“Probably not,” he agrees. “Why can’t you just be happy for your two friends? Isn’t that what a friend is supposed to do?”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I get stuck up here while trying to clear my own demonic thoughts and you’re going to make me feel even worse?”
“Sorry, I was just asking,” he says.
“Do you have a phone or something?” I ask.
“A phone?” I don’t think my words were unclear. I’m sure he’s familiar with a phone.
“Yes, you know, the thing you can make calls from, and in recent days use the internet on too?”
“I know what a phone is. I’m just not crazy enough to bring one over to Lovers Island with me. Do you know how many people have lost phones out of their pockets just making the hike over to the beach?”
“Great.”
“I told the guy taking over the concierge that a visitor was planning to trek over to Lovers Beach alone, and I’d keep an eye out for you. If your friends are concerned and looking for you, the hotel is small enough that they’ll find out a single girl made this trek alone. I’m sure they’ll put two and two together and tell them you’re with me, so not to worry.”
“I’m with a strange man, and they shouldn’t worry? Hmm.”
“I guess your friends are better friends to you than you are to them?” Lincoln raises an eyebrow along with his question, and as much as I’d like to slap him across the face for crossing a line into my business, I also realize he might be a little right, which makes me feel worse.
“Maybe they’re too drunk to realize I’m missing,” I tell him.
“Maybe,” he says. “Where are you from?”
“Boston,” I answer through a sigh. “You?”
“Upstate New York. I work for a tourism company and requested a transfer for this job about two months ago. It pays well.”
“Interesting,” I tell him. He doesn’t strike me as someone who came from Upstate New York, but who knows where I look like I’m from.
“I’m a photo editor for a small city-life magazine in Boston.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have your camera,” he continues.
“I’m not a photographer,” I correct him. “I can’t even figure out how to use the filters properly on my phone, but I’ve grown up using Photoshop and Lightroom, so I work mainly with those platforms.”
Just as I finish explaining my career, Lincoln stands up, looking off into the distance like he sees something concerning. “Crap. Come here.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Lincoln pulls me up to my feet so I can see over the rocks I was sitting behind. Dark storm clouds are moving in.
“Our thunderstorms here don’t last long but they can be brutal for the few minutes they’re happening. We need to take cover.”
“What? Where?”
Lincoln helps me down a couple of rocks, then up another two, and through a small maze of other rocks that lead to a few forming a cave. The cave is just big enough for two people.
“Don’t worry,” he tells me. “Just scoot in and sit down.” I do as he says because I’m silently freaking out again. Lincoln squeezes in next to me, and though there is room for the two of us, the entire right side of my body is flush against the entire left side of his body. He’s warm, which is comforting despite sweltering from the sun for the last hour.
“I lived outside for a year,” he confesses.