The Island

by Briar Prescott

I’m on my feet and sprinting after Adrian, through their backyard into the woods. It’s going to be the blueprint of my life. He leads. I follow. Because that’s it. That’s the day I meet Adrian Elias Olsen.

“See? We’re already making plans.” I smile back, still just a bit hesitant. “Am I in them?” I ask jokingly. He sees right through me because his eyes get a soft look in them. “In every sentence on every page.”

“If I ever hear you speak to him again, I will knock all your teeth out and feed them to you one by one,” he snarls, pushing Parker’s face harder into the ground. “Same goes for your pathetic friends. Get it?”

“You should’ve told me he was still pulling that shit.” I look away. “It doesn’t matter.” “It matters to me!” My eyes fly back to Adrian. “You matter to me,” he snaps. For a moment, I don’t seem to remember how to breathe. For a moment, I don’t seem to remember how to speak. I only manage a single nod and a whispered “Okay.”

“I should make you go,” he says. “I know I should. But honestly, I have no idea how any of us would make it without you here.” I pull him into a hug. “You know it works the other way, too, right? I also have a plan.” He lets out a long, shaky breath. “Am I in it?” “Every sentence,” I say. “Every page.”

Let me, let me, let me. Oh, please. I’m his. Always have been. Let me.

I keep moving my fingers through his hair anyway. Just because I can. It’s another stolen moment in a line of many. I hoard them greedily, and even though I know it’s a problem, I’m not willing to give up the habit. While we’re on this island, he’s mine.

All the years of craving and yearning and aching and wanting rush forward until my whole being is overtaken. I kiss Adrian like I’ve been starving for him.

I don’t know how else to explain it. How to properly define just what Dylan is to me. He’s something larger than words.

We kiss like we’re the only two people left in the world. Maybe we are. I don’t care. Just as long as he keeps kissing me.

“Anything,” I rasp in reply. He sends me a quick smirk. “You really shouldn’t give that promise out so casually.” “I don’t. But it’s you.”

It’s Dylan. My Dylan.

I have to make it clear. I have to show him. I have to make him need me as much as I need him in my life. Because I do. It’s not just that I want him with me. Wanting implies some agency. I don’t have any. I need him.

I don’t know what to do with that. With him. So I just cling to him and let him do whatever he wants with me. For as long as I have him.

I’m shaking like a leaf when I approach Adrian. He blinks at me slowly. “You’re beautiful,” he says. “Shut up,” I whisper through tears that I then dash away.

But Dylan… Dylan is mine. My whole life. He’s always been mine. Mine and nobody else’s.

And I don’t care how much it hurts. How raw I feel. How much I crave and yearn and ache and want. It doesn’t matter, because all I can do is be there for him when he needs me. And he does need me right here and now. I don’t know if he will in the morning, but right now, he does.

It’s not some grand love confession. It’s just me putting into words what we both know is there. I love him. He has to feel that I love him by now. There’s no way he doesn’t know.

His eyes are deep pools of blue. Midday sky. Blueberries. Ocean. Cornflowers. Blue, blue, blue. “I wouldn’t erase a single moment with you. Ever. They’re mine.”

This is my Dylan again. I selfishly keep myself as still as I can to prolong the moment. He’s cute when he’s asleep. When he’s awake, he’s never vulnerable like this. This is for me.

I try to list all his flaws. There are a lot. He’s too pretty. His eyes are too blue. His jokes are terrible. He sees me. He makes my mouth go too dry. His bare skin is too soft. His mind is too fascinating. When he’s gone, I miss him too much.

“You always do this. Whenever something is wrong, you try and fix it for me, and it’s… It can’t go on like this. You can’t make everything better for me.” He sends me a baffled look. “That’s exactly what I can and will do.”

Because love doesn’t come with guarantees. It’s about honesty. About laying bare the truth of what I carry inside me—have always carried inside me.

“I love you,” he says in a low voice, with the kind of fierceness that settles in my bones and lingers there. “It’s not just you who feels this way. You’re my everything.”

The way he makes me feel is terrifying. The way he’s holding my heart in the palm of his hand is terrifying. The way I’m still willing to follow him anywhere, no matter what, without a second thought is terrifying.

You’re my fucking adventure, and I want to hold your hand and continue taking the road unknown with all its twists and turns because you will be there. Right next to me. Forever. There’s nowhere else I can be other than here with you.

“I sometimes think the only reason I was put on this earth is to love you.”

He tastes like love. He feels like love. The kind I never expected we’d have between us.

“What are you doing?” He glances at his lap where the phone has landed. “Exploring our options. Making plans.” I push myself up to a sitting position and lean my head on his shoulder. “Am I in them?” “In every sentence on every page,” he says.

“You make me laugh more than anybody else. I know everything about you. I can read you like a book. I miss you when you’re gone. You’re a part of me.” He drags his hand through his hair. “There’s eight of us, and I’ve never felt like something was completely mine before. You are. You’re mine, Dylan. Nobody else has ever been simply mine. You are.”

It’s the kind of happiness that is a part of you. That you can feel in your gut and coursing through your bloodstream. The kind of quiet, contented happiness that’s just always there, without fail, even on bad days or when it feels like life is letting you down.

“In every sentence on every page,” I say. Like he’s always been. Will always be. In my book of life, every chapter is named Dylan. It’s the best book I’ve ever read.