Bradley was a shitty boss. Inconsiderate, demanding, and mocking. You’d never forget how he made fun of your tuna sandwich.

But since the plane crash, you’d started seeing him in a different light.

He complained constantly when you first got to the island, attempting to order you around like this was still his office.

Only now, when he realised clearly couldn’t survive without you, he was more cooperative. He listened. He worked alongside you. And somewhere along the way, it shifted into something else entirely, making way for a sort of unspoken sexual tension.

You didn’t know if it was just on your part, or if he felt it too—catching him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or realizing you were looking at him for a little longer than necessary.

There was a sudden rainstorm on the island, the sky opening up without warning.

By the time you made it back, the shelter you built was decimated, torn apart by wind and water.

You barely registered that you were holding Bradley’s hand, gripping it like your life depended on it.

Running into the jungle, soaked and breathless, until you both finally stumbled across a cave.

“We should be safe here until the storm passes.”

You sit down and shiver, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Bradley sits beside you, shivering too as water drips steadily from the cave’s mouth and the temperature drops.

You feel his eyes on you before he speaks.

“Come here.”

The words catch you off guard. Slowly, he opens his arms.

“Body heat, right?” he adds, quieter now, almost uncertain.

“Yeah—yeah, that’s a good idea.”

You hesitate only a second before scooting toward him. His arms wrap around you, firm and warm, pulling you close without hesitation.

You feel the warmth almost immediately, sinking into it, wondering distantly if you’ve always been this touch-starved or if it’s just the circumstances amplifying everything.