Stranded [harry styles] ✓

4

The cap of the water bottle is off and safely in the grasp of my right hand.

I have the rim pressed against my lips.

I am so ready for this.

"Wait!" Harry cries as if I'm about to unknowingly step out in front of a car. My eyes squint at his concerned expression but I don't remove the bottle from my mouth.

He hasn't even taken the cap off of his yet.

"Until we know where/if there is another water source on this island - which I'm thinking there must be given the vegetation - then we need to ration this water." He licks his lips but it doesn't moisten them. He needs to drink. He needs to stop talking and take a goddamn drink. "I'm thinking three sips every ten minutes."

"You do realise there is no way to keep track of time here?" I say into the bottle. My words reverberate.

Unless Harry is planning on counting one elephant, two elephants in ten minute intervals then I'm not sure how he's planning to proceed with this plan.

I know he's right though.

I just don't want him to be.

I want to down the entire contents of this bottle to revive my organs from the shrivelled up pieces of parchment that they've undoubtedly become. I'm not sure I can survive on "three sips every ten minutes".

It's too tempting to guzzle the lot.

"I mean it, Sarah. If/when we find more water, you can drink til your heart's content." He starts unscrewing the cap off his bottle. Finally.

"I know." I sigh. And I do know, I really do. I don't want him thinking I'm being a brat. I think I'm just whatever the thirsty version is of 'hangry'.

Thangry?

Perhaps dehydrated is more appropriate.

We take our three sips and they are the best three sips of water I've ever had. They're slightly warm having been stored inside a tightly packed suitcase on a scorching hot island but I'd drink scalding water right now if I had to.

Temperature regardless, it's still water.

It's difficult to gather the self control to stop though. I almost slip up and go in for a fourth sip. Harry almost does too.

"Ok." We say simultaneously and reluctantly hold the bottles at arm's length to reseal the caps.

I know I'm probably better off for having drunk something but my headache pounds on. Like a drum. A drum hidden deep within my skull. Given Harry's drinking rule, I know it'll be a long time before it relents.

He swallows awkwardly and rubs the pad of his thumb against his chin. I grimace because I know he's about to be all sensible again and some sort of task is going to be required.

"We need to make a shelter. I think it'll get really cold at night and given we've already found ourselves in one storm, I wouldn't be surprised if we get another at some point."

I have to praise Harry for being so on the ball. And also for speaking about future events.

If I'm being brutally honest, unless we find a waterfall and an already assembled tent - I'm feeling doubtful about seeing the end of the week.

It suddenly hits me that I don't even know what day it is. How long was I unconscious and floating in the sea? I can't even remember how long we had been flying for before we hit the storm.

I've never felt so disorientated in my life.

I press my fingers against my temple and ignore the fat droplets of sadness and confusion cascading down my face. My sunburnt cheeks sting with the contact.