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.

I don’t like change. It’s never been good to me. I like things static. The same. I like days when nothing happens because nothing is better than bad, and when something happens there’s always a chance it’ll be bad. I like it when things stay the same. They never do. Change always creeps in. And ruins everything.

“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.”

“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.”

Adrian frowns. “You okay?” He takes a step toward me. He and his bare chest and thick thighs and rock-hard abdominal muscles and when did he get those? Oh my fucking God! “I’m fine!” I say—shout—so loudly a couple of birds take flight in the trees.

It doesn’t pass. It settles. In my bones. In my brain. In my soul. In every beat of my heart. It’s an undeniable truth. My heart is in his hands, and he’s squeezing it. And he doesn’t even know. Doesn’t even suspect. It’s as if I’m about to die. I crave, and I yearn, and I ache, and I want. Hopelessly, helplessly, desperately in love…

…and I never say a single word.

“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.”

It’s a specific kind of torture. To watch the man you love. Fall in love. With somebody else.

The sun is about to rise, and I want to think it’s a good sign. Whatever happens, the sun will still continue to rise and—oh, fuck that. Fuck that inspirational bullshit.

“I have loved you from afar. Desperately. Quietly. I have craved and yearned and ached and wanted. For years. For the better part of my life.” My eyes are burning, and I want to squeeze them shut. I want to hide. I don’t. “For you us started on that island. For me we started long before that.” I dash the back of my hand over my eyes and take a big breath. “For me, it’s always been you. Just you. Always you.”

“I sometimes think the only reason I was put on this earth is to love you.” He closes his eyes and exhales. He laughs. “Then let me love you right back. For the rest of our days.”

“I’m making plans.” His smile widens. “Am I in them?” I kiss him. “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.