Washed Up ≫ A.I

Chapter [5]

I just kept smiling to myself, so overfilled with joy on how this could have possibly happened for someone like me. For me, Emma was the last person on this Earth that I had cared the most about, and I thought I lost her in a heartbeat.

"Do you need help?"

I blinked twice before realizing that Ashton was suddenly ten steps ahead of me. His shoulders were turned back around towards me in a gesturing way. From this distance, I was able to see him in light. The sun was barely out but as the red and orange colors swirled in the sky, it came down and reflected against his tanned arms and golden hair. He arrived in tight black jeans, ripped in small gaps around his knees and thighs also torn at his right ankle. Led Zeppelin was spelled out across his dark black shirt with large tares and gashes also ripped near his armpits and above his pant loops. His whole ensemble was black including the soaked black converse that he was lucky to keep after the wreck.

"Charlotte?" I fidgeted again after hearing my name come out in an accent. It was so precious and light.

I stopped thinking to myself and finally responded to Ashton, "I can walk." and that wasn't a lie.

Ashton shrugged and continued to walk forward after turning away from me again. I couldn't help but smile to myself before stepping down slowly in the early morning sand. I couldn't be in any better place now. Emma was alive and well, now we are together again. The next thing was rescue and at this rate, I know we would be off this island in no time.

+

"Emma I don't think I can take another step." I stopped instantly at the wooden walk off. A line of passengers slowly grew behind me as I turned to face Emma. She brought in her bottom lip and winced at the crowd nervously before taking me aside and allowing passengers to walk up the bridge that lead into the massive floating ship.

"Charlotte you can't back out now. It's too late, please." Emma begged with her hands rested on my shoulders.

I was holding onto both of our carry-on bags and the rest of our luggage was already being inspected before loading onto the cruise ship. With the smell of the salty waves and the swaying of the pier, I wanted to take a few giant steps back. Cold feet some would call it.

"What if something happens? What if we can't get back home in time after the break is over?" I start to babble off on a tangent, talking about the cons more than the pros of this trip, "I can't do something with a bad gut feeling you know that."

"Oh please! A bad gut feeling? Char, you're the mini scientist here and I know we both know that means chicken feet." She rolls her eyes to the side and the tint sparkles with its grey.

"The term is called cold feet Em." I correct.

"Whatever it's called, get rid of It." She demands causally before taking our carry-ons out of my hands suddenly.

"I don't have cold feet!" I turn to protest stubbornly as Emma begins walking back towards the entrance line. She spins on her heels and lifts one sharp eyebrow up in disbelief, "I just don't think I thought the scheduling through properly. I don't think I can take this trip."

"You're lying."

"I am not." She's pestering me but it won't let it work on me again.

"Char we aren't Jack and Rose okay. If you have any fears about boats just remember that the Titanic was a movie, it's not real."

I pause and look at her dumbfounded.

She stared back with her manicured eyebrows raised sincerely. She was being dead serious about this and it was frighteningly laughable, "Emma the Titanic was a historical tragedy in 1912."