Can I Throw Him Overboard?

The next morning I woke up and stretched, blissed out in the sunlight coming in through the mini portals. I got up and swung my feet over the bed and yawned. For a boat, this wasn't bad. I was hungry and I fix my gaze on the fridge. Intent on getting something to eat, I jumped off the bed and landed—

"OW!" Shia yelled from under my feet!

"Oh, oops! I'm so, so sorry!" I said, stepping off of his thigh. Thank goodness it was only his thigh. He sat up and rubbed it, yawning. I bent down to make sure he was ok, feeling stupid that I had forgotten he was there.

I heard Wes rush down the stairs and he burst open the door to the cabin. "Oh," he began to laugh. "Sorry, thought someone got hurt." I looked back down at the scene and noticed that it did look odd with me bent over Shia who was on the floor. I stood up quickly and looked back to Wes who was still grinning stupidly. Ok, I really did not like him.

"I'll leave you two...to...whatever it was you were doing," and with that, he left.

"Can I push him overboard?" I asked Shia. He grinned.

"Nah, not yet. We still need him. He'll come around. He's just shy and that's how he deals with it," Shia answered.

"Here," I offered him my hand and he stood up, wincing as his weight went to his legs.

"I'm really sorry..." I trailed off.

"No, no, it's ok," Shia assured me. "Really."

"Ok, I'm still sorry," I moaned, sinking onto the bed.

"Jen," Shia placed both of his hands on my shoulders. "I probably—no, definitely would have ended up doing the same thing." Shia turned to a cabinet and opened it. Sure enough, it was stocked with boxes of food. Shia pulled out a box of something.

"Here's what, I'll make you breakfast while you do ... whatever, ok?" Shia asked me.

"Uh, shouldn't I be the one making you breakfast?" I said, smiling.

"You can have the honors next time."

"Ok, I'll hold you to it."

"Anything you want in particular?" Shia asked, turning to the other cupboards.

"No, surprise me," I told him.

"Hmm, alrighty then."

"Is there a shower?" I asked, steeling myself up to hear "no".

"Yeah, over there. Open the door and it's in that cubby," Shia pointed. "Your clothes are in there, he pointed to the cabinet above me.

"My clothes?" I asked, astonished.

"I think so. These clothes are mine," Shia said, gesturing to his unchanged attire from the jungle.

"Little black hearts and all?" I asked, smirking. He shrugged. I took that as a yes and looked into the cabinet. YAY! My clothes!!!

"They're mine," I told him. I grabbed what I needed.

"Good, breakfast shall be done in twenty minutes."

I went to the door and opened it. I had to duck to get in. There was a small bathtub, with a shower hose and nozzle. However, there was no curtain...great. There was also a toilet and sink. I shut the door and locked it. It made me feel claustrophobic in the small 4' by 5' room—if you could call it that—a room. I peeled off my dirty clothes and let them fall to the floor. The small mirror on the wall made me cringe. My hair and face were filthy and oily.

There was a cupboard beneath the sink and I stopped to see if there was any soap and shampoo. There was thank goodness. Five minutes later I was under lukewarm and slightly salty water. It felt amazing to get clean after who knows how many days. Ten minutes later, I got out and dried myself with the towel from the rack beside the toilet.

Once I was dressed, I put my ear to the door to listen and sure enough, Wes and Shia were talking—again.