Chapter 3

Six months had gone by since the pair of cousins were washed ashore the little island. Six long months, in which they learned how to do without many things. There was no television, no books, no clean clothes, no proper bathroom, no proper shower or bathtub, no electricity to speak of, no house, and nobody else in the world, except for each other.

For certain things, they had amended this, fixing makeshift accomadations. There was a hut made of tree branches now, which were bound with the strap-like bark from the coconut trees. It was fairly small, but sufficient on the days when it ventured to rain, or when the wind ventured to blow too harshly.

They had managed to create a fire from an old stick-rubbing Kid Scout trick Ben happened to know, and they self-taught themselves how to heat the ground with the fire, then bake a fish or two within it - a makeshift oven. It was quite the trial and error experience for them, but it worked out alright over the past few months, finally. For while they were grateful to have an abundant supply of bananas, mangos and coconuts, the fish was a welcome change for their taste buds.

The fish were caught with spears made from branches, branches shaped and whittled down by Ben with the use of his pocket knife (something Gwen never thought would come in handy, and boy, had he rubbed this in her face when it proved to be handy after all) while Gwen, for the most part, took care of the cooking. She also washed their clothes in the ocean water when needed, though they rarely really wore them.

For the most part, you could find the pair of them sitting near the water - or else, in their hut - Ben clad in only his boxer shorts, Gwen wearing her panties and a sports bra. The weather was usually quite hot, what with the sun beating down on them all the time. Even with the occasional balmy breeze, it was much too stifling to go about in normal day clothes anyway. Besides, Gwen would tell herself, she quite enjoyed the tan she had acquired.

Not that Ben would say a word about it, but he quite liked his own tan, along with hers. And when he would think such a thing as this, he would turn inexplicably red in the face, so that you might think he was temporarily sunburned. Luckily for him, Gwen never seemed to be around much when these instances occurred, and for that he was grateful. The weird thoughts he'd been getting about her ever since that life-or-death kiss in the water were bad enough, without her picking up on them.

The kiss, speaking of it, had not been mentioned by either to the other - not even once - since they'd arrived. Sometimes it seemed to be on one or the other's mind, but if it was, they wouldn't outright say so. If Gwen's tan made a blush come to Ben's face, then thinking about Ben's lips on her own did the same trick for Gwen.

Of course, being as silent about her more recent thoughts as her cousin ever was, she kept everything to herself. Every single thought. Sure, the pair of them found things to speak of and talk about, and to discuss. They'd have gone mad by now otherwise. They just never dared to really talk about each other, not to each other, anyway - only in their alone time, thinking to themselves did they really dare to go there.

Gwen found herself in such a reverie on this day, six months and four days after she found herself beached upon this island with Ben. Her knees brought up to her chest as she leant back against a balmy palm tree, she bit down on her lower lip, thoughts playing out like a choose-your-own-adventure-book in her mind.

"Well, if I just went and kissed him, I wouldn't have an excuse," she thought inwardly. "Like, he had an excuse. He was saving both our lives, letting us breathe and whatnot. If I just decide to kiss him, there's nothing life or death about it. That idiot, always getting things to go his way, and never me mine." She would then opt into thinking about what if she really did just up and kiss him later on that evening. "Well, he'll probably push me off of him and tell me that I'm a lunatic, and he wouldn't even be wrong. I am a lunatic. Who wants to go kissing Ben? Nevermind that he's my cousin, but he's Ben. Who would do that? Why do I wanna do that? What is wrong with me?"

And while the redhead would sit there and think all these things to herself, as she was doing this day, her aforementioned cousin would sit nearby, beneath a slightly further away palm tree, watching her from a distance. He could see her fretting and fussing about, though silently, and it puzzled him. What was she so upset and confused and stressed out over? Sure, they were castaways on an island, but they had food, shelter, water, each other's company. Was it really so bad? At least they didn't have to do math homework.

"You probably ticked her off," said a little voice inside Ben's head then; shaking his head, he murmured aloud to himself, "And how did I manage to do that again?" "No idea, but do you need to be given a reason? You always manage to do it somehow," replied the inward voice, and Ben sighed, because he knew it was true.

Glancing back over her shoulder from the shade of her own palm tree, Gwen spied on her cousin as he murmured to himself, before sighing. What exactly was going on with him? Was having all the food he could want at any time really so bad? Or was it the nice, perfect beach weather twenty-four-seven? Or was it just him being tired of her company?

"Well, he can just get over it if he's sick of me. It's not like I'm not sick of him, too."

And back beneath his own palm tree, the fourteen and a half year old Ben reasoned with himself inwardly, "Maybe she's just sick of me. I guess I can't blame her, but what can a guy do? She's always irritated or acting weird lately. It's not like I'm not sick of her, either."