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Chapter Text

“I could never date Penelope Featherington, not in your wildest dreams, Fife!”

“Oh.”

“P–I didn’t see you there, Pen!”

“Clearly.”

“I didn’t mean it like that–”

“I think you did.” 

The interaction played in her mind, over and over again, even as she sat in a cabana on a beach in a green bikini with a mai tai in her hand. The turquoise blue water glittered in the plentiful sunshine, the cool breeze smelling of salty ocean and flowers. She was in a literal paradise, lush green jungle and tall mountain peaks in every direction, spotted with white sand and orange beach umbrellas. The wicker lounge chair beneath her reclined at the perfect angle so she could take a nap if she desired, but still have a prime view of the shirtless men working the bar to her left. She had a pleasant buzz from the endless tropical cocktails delivered to her by a bronzed model with sweaty, glistening abs whenever she finished the one in her hand. 

And yet, the worst moment of her life repeated behind her closed eyes, like a bad Tik Tok.

She was thirty years old, and shouldn’t let a man-child like Colin Bridgerton get to her so much.

But she was in love with him, so of course his words ripped her heart out and stomped it into the ground. 

It’s not like she expected him to know she was in love with him. She’d never said anything, and he never indicated any interest in that sort of relationship with her at all, but to hear him say that crushed her. 

Twelve years of friendship, ruined in one night.

One stupid comment made by that numbskull man to his friends, a giant group of idiots who egged him on and pestered him about finally settling down as they all met together in a bar, and the tiny bit of hope she held that one day, he might stop flying around the world to avoid his problems shattered. She never expected him to return her feelings, with him looking like sex on a stick and her…well, Penelope knew she didn’t turn any heads. 

But they were friends, she thought. For twelve years, he called her before and after each of his flights, texted her about his adventures, and made time to see her whenever he was in London. She always took his calls, told him what was happening at home, and vetted all of the posts he made to his very popular Instagram. She knew he valued her opinion on most things, and she figured that translated to more than just a casual affection. At the very least, she thought he held their friendship in high enough regard to avoid bad-mouthing her behind her back to his boys. 

He didn’t expect to see her at that bar though. She only walked over to say hello when she heard his true feelings for her, the apparent mask he wore around her completely off. 

That she was, apparently, unsuitable for his romantic affections, something she’d wished for since the day they met. 

So she left. 

If Colin Bridgerton could pilot his way around the world in his tiny plane for all of his adult life, avoiding everyone when things got too ‘complicated,’ she could fuck off to a tropical island by herself for some time alone to get her shit together after one of her oldest and closest friendships fell apart. 

She might have gone to Ibiza, or Greece, or Cyprus, or the Canary Islands, or somewhere closer, but she truly wanted to be as far away from England and civilization as possible.

Why not French Polynesia, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on the other side of the world?

The next morning she booked her flights to the remote island of Bora Bora. She put in for two weeks off from her high-stress journalism job, much to the dismay to her boss Agatha, and for the next month she counted down the seconds until she could leave. Eloise tried to go with her, but Penelope insisted she needed time alone. 

Colin, the absolute turnip of a man, called her countless times, but she never answered. 

Eloise told her Colin called her for once, asking specifically if Penelope was okay. Pen was forced to explain the entire incident to El, who offered to throttle Colin the next time she saw him, but Pen convinced her that wasn’t necessary. The point of this trip was to mourn their friendship and the hope of a future relationship with him, maybe have sex with a hot tourist, and go back home feeling refreshed and ready to move on. 

She did tell Eloise that under no circumstances was she to tell Colin where she was, because she didn’t need him showing up and trying to convince her she misheard him, or he didn’t mean it that way, or whatever half-assed excuse he tried to foist upon her. She heard him loud and clear: he would never date Penelope Featherington. 

She needed space to come to terms with that. 

~

She left London from Heathrow Airport on a very, very early Friday morning flight, rain drizzling from the sky and her bags packed with tiny string bikinis (her body issues be damned) and loose, flowy dresses, and a very large sunhat on her head. 

It took nearly an entire day to fly there, first on two large commercial airliners, then on the smallest plane Penelope had ever seen used by an airline. So small, in fact, she spent the entire four hours on the flight with her eyes closed, trying to not look outside in case she vomited. Other than the pilot and his co-pilot, the only other passengers were a few couples, the single flight attendant, and Penelope, about a dozen people in total. Her seat partner was a bubbly woman who talked her ear off the whole time. She lived on the island, apparently, and was heading back to her job after visiting family with her brother, who was in the seat behind them. 

Penelope merely smiled and nodded politely, trying to keep her cool. The plane landed successfully and she finally realized why people clap for the pilot. They exited right onto the tarmac, and she desperately wanted to stop at the bar but decided to wait until she made it to the resort. She took the provided shuttle and was thankfully greeted by a full bar in the lobby after she checked in. Mojito in hand, she took her room key and rolled her luggage down the wooden walkway, taking note of the numbers while she looked for her own. 

She went all out on this trip, paying for the fanciest room she could afford at the Four Seasons Bora Bora Resort and splurging for the all-inclusive bar and food package. Her room turned out to be a full hut, all to herself, with a thatched roof and a partial glass floor that sat over the water so she could watch all of the tropical fish swim beneath her feet. Everything was open to the air, allowing a breeze to blow through the room, eliminating the need for air conditioning completely. A king-sized four-poster bed covered in mosquito netting took up most of the space, crisp white bedding spread across the bamboo frame, the whole thing facing a wide opening framing the mountain and jungle across the water. She set down her luggage next to the wardrobe, and padded across the room to find the bathroom. She opened the door to find a toilet, of course, but also her own massive jacuzzi tub and a steam shower with a full glass window with the same view as the bed. 

This entire, luxurious suite, in paradise, all to herself. 

She wanted unforgettable, and she believed she got it.

Penelope sighed, feeling her body finally start to relax after a month of stress and tension in her life. 

The first thing she did was put on a bikini and jump in the water. No hesitation, no checking to see if anyone watched her, she just tied the strings, stepped out onto her little deck, and hopped in feet first. The water was warm and salty, and just barely deep enough to go over her head. She floated for a few minutes on her back before swimming back over to the ladder and climbing out, dripping all over the wood as she made her way to the phone. 

She perused the menu before ordering enough room service for two: a plate of fresh sashimi with rice, a green smoothie that tasted like apples, a bowl of fresh pasta with cheese and scallops, and a bowl of mango, papaya, and pineapple for dessert. No one questioned her choices either. The attendant brought her meal on a cart and set it up in her room with a smile and told her that if she needed anything to give reception a call. She promptly asked if she could get another mai tai, and within 15 minutes she had it in her hands, ice cold and with a pineapple and maraschino cherry garnish.

As she ate her food and sat in her jacuzzi tub and watched the sunset, she tried to think of absolutely nothing. 

~

And now she was here, three days later, on a beach slathered in sunscreen and smelling of coconut, still unable to completely shed the sound of Colin Bridgerton saying he would never date her from her mind. Though it was only late morning, she sipped a margarita beneath the shade of her private rented cabana, her sunglasses holding her hair back and her skin only a little red from too much sunshine. A calypso band played behind her, enhancing the tropical paradise vibe. She bobbed her head to the beat a little as she people-watched. 

With all of her basic needs taken care of and nothing to do all day but sit, drink cocktails, read one of the three books she brought, eat copious amounts of fresh seafood and tropical fruit, or go for a swim in the crystal clear water, she found her mind wandering to that man far too often. 

Of course, there were planned activities, like making your own Polynesian shell necklace, private dining on a tiny island, cooking classes, or movie nights, but nearly everything was aimed at families or couples. More than once Penelope saw a pair of newlyweds making out on a beach towel or on a boat or at the bar, and she did her best to not scowl at them. 

She even tried a Polynesian massage ritual meant to clear her mind and center her spirit, but all it did was make her a bit horny for the modelesque male masseuse with a charming French-Polynesian accent. She had another massage booked for the next day, this time one ‘tailor made’ for her needs, which she hoped meant that it would be with a woman and focused entirely on releasing the giant knots in her back. 

She needed more to distract her. 

Her plan of finding a hot tourist to fuck backfired spectacularly when she realized nearly everyone there was a couple. There were almost no single men to be found, and her half-assed attempts at flirting were always interrupted by the girlfriend/wife/spouse/partner joining in their conversation. One particularly embarrassing attempt ended with her eating dinner with a gay couple, which was pleasant but not what she expected. 

“Another drink, Madamoiselle?” 

She glanced over to see a sweaty, shirtless cabana attendant offering her another mai tai with a winning smile and a wink. 

A wink?

“Yes, thank you,” she purred, and he smirked as he turned around and went back to the bar. 

Well, there’s my distraction, she thought. Anything to get my mind off of Colin fucking Bridgerton. 

She sipped her drink, the liquid courage coursing through her. 

One more drink , she thought, picking up the cheesy romance novel on the table next to her. Then I’ll shoot my shot .

~

She must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing she remembered was a gentle voice waking her. 

“Madamoiselle Featherington?” 

A woman stood next to her, smiling. The sun was much lower in the sky, and based on her vague understanding of how that worked (and her much stronger understanding of how long her naps lasted), she thought it must be late afternoon. 

“Yes?” she answered, still a little groggy. 

“There’s a call for you at the bar. It sounded urgent.”

A call for me?

Who the hell would go through enough bother to figure out where I am and how to contact me?

Only nightmare scenarios filled her mind, someone hurt or sick or injured or dead– 

“Of course,” she replied urgently, getting up from her lounge chair and tying her wrap around her waist. She followed the woman over, her bare feet sinking into the hot sand with each step. 

She reached for the receiver of the old-school landline, her own cellphone unable to find a signal on the island (not that she minded), and picked it up. 

“Hello?”

“Penelope! Thank God! This is a dire emergency.”

Shit. 

God damn fucking shit fucking work fucking calling on fucking vacation god damn shit– 

“Agatha? Why are you calling me on vacation?” Penelope let her irritation show in her voice. “I’m currently on a tropical beach in the middle of the Pacific Ocean drinking endless cocktails in a bikini. This better be important.”

Agatha Danbury ran the news journal she wrote for, and if she called her on vacation, it could only mean one thing…

“If I had anyone else that could do this, I would have called them.”

God fucking damnit. 

“You need something from me?” 

If she played stupid, maybe she wouldn’t have to do it. 

“I need you to fly to Tahiti tonight.”

Fuck. 

“Tahiti? Agatha, I had plans for this evening. There isn’t anyone else around whose life you can screw up?”

“You’re in Bora Bora, it’s right there, and we realized we needed someone on the ground for the Tahitian Regatta, and no one can get there as fast as you.”

“Why, exactly, are we covering a boat regatta? We cover social and political gossip, not sporting events.”

“Because Michael Stirling is racing in it.”

Penelope groaned. Her colleague was known to drop everything and do ridiculous and stupid things, like go to the Pacific Ocean to race his gigantic sailboat. Not to mention the fact that he was one of the dill weeds there that night when Colin proclaimed her un-dateable. “So because that twat decided it would be fun to lose a boat race, I have to interrupt my vacation to chronicle his crushing defeat?”

“I think he would appreciate a little more confidence, but I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Agatha…”

“Listen, you fly there tonight, cover the story tomorrow, write up a fluff piece about Stirling and his love of boats and the beautiful scenery and the delicious food, whatever you want, and fly right back to your vacation that night. Quick, easy, painless, and you’ll be doing me a huge favor. Fifteen hours at the most.” 

Penelope sighed. “And how am I supposed to get there, exactly?”

“We’ll book you a charter flight as soon as possible. Penelope, you are a star, I owe you big.”

She could only vaguely hear the details Agatha provided over the frustration roaring in her ears; something about the flight leaving at 7 o’clock that night, being in the air for about an hour, and to show up at the airport as soon as she could because there was some inclement weather on the way. She said goodbye and hung up with a sigh. 

“Guess I should go pack,” she remarked to the hot bartender. He had gorgeous brown eyes, bronze skin, and luscious hair down to his shoulders, and wore a button-down shirt that he didn’t even try to button with some very tiny swim shorts. 

“Oh? Leaving so soon?” he asked, cleaning a glass with a rag and setting it beneath the bartop. 

“Just for tonight and tomorrow. I’ve been called in to work, of all things,” she explained.  

“I hope you get paid extra, working on vacation, and missing out on all the fun to be had here,” he smirked. 

“Unfortunately, I doubt it,” she lamented.

“Might I see more of you tomorrow night?” he asked, a little twinkle in his eye. 

“You might,” Penelope flirted, “if you tell me your name.”

“Malakai. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Penelope,” she replied. 

“Well, Miss Penelope, I live in Bungalow 5. If, when you arrive back tomorrow night, you feel like having a nice evening, come knock on my door,” he purred. 

“I’ll…probably take you up on that offer,” she responded, hoping she looked as seductive as she felt. 

Agatha Danbury better make that favor worth my while if she’s causing me to miss out on sex with the hottest man to ever flirt with me. 

Penelope walked back to her hut, dragging her feet a little. When she unlocked the door, someone had come by and made the bed, leaving orange hibiscus petals scattered about. They had also started the jacuzzi tub for her and perfumed it with some kind of delicious-smelling oil, the aroma filling the entire bathroom. 

Penelope decided to make use of the tub, since they went through the effort of making it up for her, and as a little ‘screw you’ to Agatha telling her to leave as fast as possible. As she tried to relax, her mind spun, trying to figure out a way to get out of the excursion. She was attempting to forget her real life, and going back to work was a sure way to put her right back into reality. 

She watched the sun set slowly over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of yellow, orange, red, purple. Her dinner arrived in her hut, a delicious-looking filet of white fish with fresh salad, quinoa, and mango sorbet. She savored it as she packed her suitcase, electing to only bring two changes of clothes and a swimsuit with her along with whatever she had on. She debated heading to the airport in her bikini and wrap, but thought better of it and threw on a lavender sundress. She slipped on her flip-flops and rolled her suitcase down to the shuttle.

Once there, she checked in and floated through security with ease. She made sure to grab a mojito from the airport bar, finish it quickly, and then ordered a pina colada to sip while she waited for her plane to show up. If she had to fly in one of those cursed, tiny planes again, she would do so absolutely hammered. 

She assumed it would be a tiny plane, anyway. It was a chartered flight, very expensive but paid for by the journal, and the airport did not look like it could handle anything bigger than the 20-passenger jet she arrived on. She watched the skies for any movement and waited. 

The airport was hot and breezy that evening. Some clouds hung around, but she couldn’t tell if they were dark from the fading sunlight or potential rain. Agatha did mention something about inclement weather…

Whatever.

Only better for her if the storm got too bad the flight couldn’t leave.  

She watched from her little bench as a small Dehavilland Beaver flew by, descending in altitude and lining up with the tarmac below. 

That’s the same plane Colin usually flies.

Strange. 

Penelope felt her stomach turn at the thought that she might be traveling on that thing to Tahiti. Colin had flown her in one before, and it was only large enough for four people inside. She’d had a panic attack flying from London to Brighton, but she might pass out entirely over the open ocean at night in that tin can.  

It was an incredibly bad idea, but she did have a few Xanax in her bag…

Well, it’s not like I’m the one flying the plane. 

She pushed that idea into a little pocket in her brain for later, should she need it.

The plane landed, taxing over quickly to the gate, not that there were many gates to choose from. The rest of the airport was empty, with all of the regular flights either done for the night or canceled. It was only Penelope, the single flight attendant, and the bartender sitting across from her. 

“I guess that’s mine,” she mumbled, getting up from the stool and regrettably leaving her drink behind. 

She rolled her suitcase over just as the engine of the plane shut off, the low rumble suddenly changing into relative silence. 

“Hold on, Miss Featherington, I believe the pilot said he has to work on the engine for a moment before you can take off,” the flight attendant stopped her as she tried to go outside. 

“Work on the engine?” Her anxiety skyrocketed. “What do you mean? Is it safe? I can’t go anywhere it that. It’s broken.”

“It’s not broken,” a voice said from behind her, just come inside from the runway. “Just needs to be maintained a little before takeoff.”

She started to turn around, her finger ready to wag and her eyes ready to roll back in her skull. “I’m not sure that rickety old plane could make it across the island, let alone the oce–” 

Her voice failed her as she faced the man that would take her to Tahiti. 

“Pen?”

Shit . 

Of all the things fate might throw at her. Of all the people in the world. 

Colin fucking Bridgerton was her pilot. 

She needed that Xanax right now. 

Chapter Text

“I cannot get on a plane with him, Agatha.”

“Why the hell not? I thought you would be happy it was him and not some random pilot.”

As soon as she saw his stupid beautiful face, Penelope knew she had to call Agatha and ask her why the fuck Colin Bridgerton was in Bora Bora when she thought he was in Japan or India or some such place. She stood next to the gate, talking on the landline connected to the wall and watching Colin faff around with his plane outside. At some point, he had taken his shirt off to change the oil, and now he was topless and sweaty and had grease smears on his chest and all she wanted to do was climb him like a fucking tree and she hated herself for it. 

“Did you set this up?” she interrogated her boss. It would be just like her to meddle in their relationship and try to fix it herself. 

“Well, I knew he was in the area so I gave him a call. I thought you two were friends?” Agatha sounded incredulous over the phone. 

“I haven’t been friends with him for over a month now. That’s what this whole ‘taking a vacation to paradise’ thing is about, to get the fuck away from him,” she hissed into the receiver. 

“Well, he’s been in Tahiti for two weeks now, so your plan didn’t really work, did it?” Agatha bickered.

“Two weeks?” Penelope couldn’t believe it. “He’s been here two entire weeks?”

“Yes, helping prepare for the very regatta you are going to cover, I believe as a favor to Michael. Why, he was probably there when you flew into Tahiti before your flight to Bora Bora.”

“Jesus save me,” Penelope sighed, her back pressed against the wall so she would stop looking at Colin’s perfectly sculpted abs outside, lit only by the lights on the tarmac. The carpet in the terminal was ancient, and her fingers found a thread of yarn and pulled at it, as if it could anchor her to the ground and prevent this cursed flight from happening at all. 

“Listen, I’m sorry this was unexpected, but maybe you could use this as a chance to mend things–”

“I am not the one who has things to mend, Agatha! I’m supposed to use this time to get over him and his beautiful face telling me he could never date me, and his presence is definitely not conducive to that!”

“Did he actually tell you that?” she asked, perplexed. 

“Yes, he did.” Penelope could feel the tingle of tears in her eyes and willed them back. “He didn’t know I was there, but he said it to his stupid friends.” 

“What an idiot, let me call him–” Agatha started. 

“No! I don’t need you to talk to him. I’m fine. It’s only an hour-long plane ride, and then I can do my job. It’s fine,” Penelope insisted. This wasn’t her boss's problem, and she could handle herself well enough to make it to Tahiti and back with Colin and not strangle him. 

Probably. 

“If you’re sure–”

“I am. Sorry to call you so early. I’ll call you in Tahiti when we land.” 

She hung up the phone and slumped down to the floor. She knew she had to get a grip before they left or it would be the longest hour of her life. It really didn’t help matters that she was half-way to pissed drunk, and she had a tendency to cry about anything and everything after too many drinks. 

“I think we’re all set!” Colin cheerfully poked his head through the door from outside. 

Penelope looked up at him and groaned. 

“Pen, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Too late!” she exclaimed, rifling around in her bag. “Where’re my pills…”

“Pills? What pills?” he inquired. 

“Xanax. My doctor prescribed them for situations of tension and anxiety, and I think this qualifies.”

“Pen, should you really be mixing alcohol with that?” he fretted. 

“Should you even care? You aren’t my boyfriend. You could never , remember? And anyway I’ve only had two drinks. I’ll be fine,” she retorted. 

“Two drinks? Because of me?” he pondered. 

“No, because of the tiny ass plane. The Xanax is for you,” she snapped, finding the bottle and shaking it at him for emphasis. 

“You’re still that mad at me?” He looked confused. 

“You expect me to be happy with you after I heard you declare you would never date me in front of your friends?”

“I didn’t expect you to hear. I don’t understand why you are that mad, anyway. We’ve been friends for long enough that you should know those idiots were just badgering me again, trying to get me to stay in London. They know how close we are, and suggested it. I thought you would think the same thing,” he explained, his chin nearly touching his neck as he moved closer and looked down at her. 

Penelope sighed. Of course, she shouldn’t be so mad, because she wasn’t supposed to love him. But she did, and she was angry.

“It still hurt Colin. It felt like you told them I was undateable for anyone, since you wouldn’t date me.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, you did,” Penelope cut him off. She was done with this conversation. “Can we just go so I can get this over with? I don’t exactly want to have this conversation in an airport terminal,” she snapped, popping the pill into her mouth and washing it down with the rest of her drink. She stood up on wobbly feet, planting her sandals firmly before crossing her arms and giving him a look of (what she hoped was) irritation. 

“I–sure, Pen.” He smiled at her a little too much. 

Colin held the door open for her, and she barely had to duck under his arm to go out into the humid tropical air. She drug her suitcase behind her, the wheels rattling on the asphalt. The propeller was already going on the Beaver, blowing her hair in every direction and muffling all other noise. Her dress whipped around her ankles, and she suddenly regretted wearing her bikini underneath as she felt the strings digging into her shoulders. 

Honestly, she regretted every choice that brought her to this point. 

She knew his plane was old, but looking at it now, paint chipping off and a squeaky pilot-side door as he flung it open to throw in his toolkit…

“Is it safe to fly?” she asked, her hesitation evident. 

“It is with me,” he grinned at her, moving to the other side of the plane and holding the metal door ajar for her. 

“Oh, you’re that good, huh?” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. She stood next to him for a moment, trying to figure out how to best get her things into the plane without her entire ass hanging out of the bottom of her dress. 

“I’m the best you’ve ever been with,” he teased, taking her suitcase and chucking it in the back behind their seats easily, his arms flexing beneath the flowy button-down he wore, most of his chest exposed and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Penelope groaned. 

“Well, I’m not sure I trust your equipment,” she doubted, hearing the whole thing creak as she stepped inside and slid into the copilot seat. 

“The plane’s old, but I promise we’re sturdy,” he reassured her. “I got her all the way here from London, didn’t I?”

“How long did that take?” she asked before he latched her inside and ran around the tail of the plane. 

He reached his side and hopped in, buckling his seatbelt as he explained, “About half of the month you wouldn’t talk to me. I’ve been zipping around between these islands ever since.”

“Should I move to the back so your co-pilot–”

“I don’t have a co-pilot.” 

“No co-pilot?” Penelope worried. 

“Not for this flight, no. Just us and the open ocean, baby,” he grinned, a stark contrast to her furrowed brows and anxious gaze at the control panel in front of her. “Don’t touch anything, and we’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so,” she mumbled, buckling herself in. 

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked. She met his eyes, and he was waiting for her to answer. 

“I don’t know anymore, Colin,” she replied solemnly, shaking her head. 

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he slammed his door shut and started to taxi the plane to the runway. He fiddled with some switches when they were lined up, and he pulled back on the yoke. Every little movement jolted Penelope around in her seat, and she wished she had one of those handles that were in cars to stabilize her body as they took off. 

The pair remained silent as they steadily climbed higher in the sky, the island smaller and smaller below them before Colin turned the plane to face the ocean and their destination. They drifted up into the grey clouds, definitely primed and ready for rain. Penelope wasn’t too worried; she figured Colin knew what he was doing. 

She did sit and stew in her annoyance. Did she trust him? She had for most of their friendship, all twelve years. If anyone asked her a month ago who she would call to bail her out of jail, or drive her home after a night of drinking, or hold her purse while they went shopping together, she would have answered with Colin. Now, she wasn’t sure. He hurt her, something he’d never done before, and she didn’t know what to think or how to deal with it, except to run off to an island. Clearly, her infallible plan to avoid her feelings so they would go away backfired. 

Colin pressed a button, and the plane leveled out. They must be at cruising altitude. He sighed, and Penelope braced herself. 

“Pen, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t think–”

“Do you have a radio in this thing so I don’t have to hear you?”

“Not–not that kind of radio, no.”

“Shit,” she huffed. “You said that just because you didn’t think I would hear it? You really didn’t think at all, did you?” She nearly wished she wasn’t so intoxicated so she could come up with better words to tear into him. 

“No, I didn’t.” He sighed, waiting to see if she would interrupt again, but then continued. “I hated seeing that look on your face, and watching you walk away, and having to stay with those assholes the rest of the night and pretend everything was fine. I hated that you wouldn’t answer your phone, but I knew why. I hoped some space would help put things back to rights, but seeing you so angry still, just makes me…confused. I thought you would be okay now. I thought you would realize I didn’t really mean it like that.”

Oh. 

She didn’t expect he would be so…sad. 

At the bar, he seemed so haughty, so superior, like she was below him. She still thought he meant it, but he didn’t really know how badly he hurt her, did he? He couldn’t know, because he thought they were just friends. 

“If anyone is confused, it’s me,” she grumbled and crossed her arms. Her head spinning (from the alcohol or the drugs, she wasn’t sure), she closed her eyes. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been going over and over that night in my head all month, trying to figure out why I even said what I did, where the conversation went wrong,” he said. 

“That makes two of us,” she admitted. 

Colin thought for a moment. “We always were a pair, weren’t we?”

“Can’t you be serious, just this once? I’m really hurt, Colin.” She understood that he was trying to bring some levity to the conversation because they would be stuck together for another forty minutes yet, but she didn’t want levity at the moment. She wanted to hate him. 

“I know, Pen. And I’m sorry.”

He made it so, so hard to hate him. 

“I know you are. And I think I forgive you, but I don’t know if I trust you yet. You don’t get how hurtful those words were, because you don’t know what it’s like to be an outcast, to have to fight for your place at the table, to be…quiet, just fighting to be seen for who you are, rather than your family or your looks.”

“I think I know a little more about that than you think.”

Pen looked at him, but he only stared straight ahead. “What?”

“It’s hard sometimes, just being Bridgerton number three. The letter C. I leave all the time because I don’t want to deal with it, just being a third brother of four, grouped in with the rest. I got so tired of trying to prove myself to everyone that I’m just…done. I know what it’s like to be unseen, more than most Pen.”

“I guess you’re gone so often, I didn’t realize,” she mumbled, unsure if he could even hear her over the roar of the engine. She supposed that’s why they got along so well; so many evenings of family gatherings and parties spent in quiet corners or at the snack table, people-watching and trading gossip and witty remarks. 

“And how was I supposed to know you felt like that? You never mentioned any of this to me before. You said you hated your family, and you had to fight tooth and nail to get this job with Agatha, but never anything about feeling so…out of place,” he seemed frustrated, with her or himself she wasn’t sure. 

“You really didn’t see I felt like that? I wouldn’t think I had to say anything, all you had to do was read the column I write.” 

Colin didn’t say anything. He looked so forlorn, just staring at the controls. She turned her body to stare out the window, watching the rain hit the glass harder than before. It was very, very dark outside, the clouds only illuminated by lightning strikes flashing around them. 

“Shit,” she heard him mumble under his breath, and when she peeked at his profile he looked serious for once, his brow furrowed as he pushed some buttons on the control panel. Something started beeping very, very loudly, and he looked to be pulling on a lever and pulling back quite hard on the yoke. 

Penelope, still stuck on their earlier conversation, started, “I’m glad you’re feeling some remorse for this–”

“I can’t think about my fucking mouth and your insecurities right now, Pen,” he snapped. “There’s a lot of lightning in this storm, I think we just–.” 

“Insecurities?!” she shrieked. “ My big tits and giant ass , I don’t have fucking insecurities, I’m fantastic, it’s everyone else with the problem–”

“Pen, you are my best friend, you are amazing, and I have no doubt about your boobs, but you are the most annoying drunk I’ve ever met. This conversation can wait until– fuck !” 

At that moment, the plane seemed to drop in the air a few dozen feet. Penelope’s stomach flew into her chest, and adrenaline started to flow, mixing with the prescription drugs and alcohol to make a cocktail of mild panic, irritation, and nausea. 

“What’s happening?” she questioned. 

“It’s the storm,” he grit out, pulling against the throttle. “We might have to turn back.”

“But we’re halfway there, yeah? Wouldn’t it be easier to keep going?”

“No, Pen. I’m sorry,” he started to turn them around, the plane pitching and rolling to the left slightly. “We have to go back to Bora Bora. It’s too dangerous.”

She sighed. “Alright.” If Agatha gave her shit for it, she would tell her to bring it up with Colin. 

The storm was raging outside. Rain spattered against the windshield, and other than the tiny overhead light, the only illumination came from sporadic flashes of lightning among the clouds. 

A loud crack reverberated around them as the entire cabin and sky lit up around them. Penelope gasped, and she thought she heard Colin swear under his breath.

“Oh, that was close, huh?” she asked him. The lights on the board in front of her were flashing, dials wiggling back and forth. 

“That wasn’t just close, that hit us,” he mumbled, turning some knobs by one of the flickering screens. “I think it fried the radio. Shit,” he frantically tried to get readings on the dials, but nothing worked correctly. “Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he chanted, like he hoped someone might hear.

“That’s bad, huh?”

“Yes, Pen, that is very, very bad,” he stated before he picked up the mouthpiece and pressed the button on the side. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, Beaver 0318, unable to maintain altitude, is anyone there? Mayday, mayday, mayday…”

Pen picked up her own microphone. “Helloooo? Is anyone there? We’re two brits in the midst of a relationship crisis trapped in a tiny plane, and I think something is broken.” 

“Pen! Put that fucking mic down!” he smacked her hand with his own microphone. He continued to speak into it, “We’re 50 miles southeast of Bora Bora, unable to maintain altitude.” 

“Rude,” Pen grumbled, pouting. 

He waited for a moment before crying out with an arrgh! and returning it to the receiver. “Pen, I’m really going to need you to keep your shit together right now. I need to fly this plane, and I can’t have you sassing me in the background.” 

She stuck her tongue out to him but remained quiet. 

She watched as he scanned around them, looking down at the sea. 

“There’s an island down there! I can see a beach!” 

Pen peered out the window to see that, indeed, there was an island covered in a lush green jungle, some cliffs jutting out into the ocean. A small, white strip of sand revealed itself between the water and the jungle. From what she could tell, there were no lights, no roads, no signs of any civilization at all. 

Her mind whirled and her heart pounded in her chest. She suddenly felt a little more sober at the thought of Colin landing a plane on an uninhabited island in the middle of a storm.

Their plane was going down, and Colin is going to land on that tiny stretch of sand down there. 

“Tighten your seatbelt,” he reached over one-handed and yanked on the strap, securing her tightly to the seat. “I’ve got to land this thing.” She tried to not blush as his fingers brushed over her thighs, barely covered in her light dress. 

Now is really not the time for blushing. 

Pen could feel as Colin did something with a lever that the plane slowed considerably as it dropped and turned to the island. As they flew, there was a great clunk as Colin pushed a button to release the landing gear below. 

Both slowly and far too quickly, he lowered them and lined up a makeshift runway on a level stretch of sand. Pen knew he’d landed planes before, thousands and thousands of times, but she didn’t know if he was capable of doing so under such treacherous conditions…

She felt the wheels touch down with a jolt, and she let out an involuntary squeak. They still moved fast but they slowed, slowed, and–

“Beach! Rock! Itsthereontheright” she exclaimed, her words mushing together as she rushed them out.

“What?” he yelled.

“Arockonthebeachtheresarockonthebeach!” she shrieked. His eyes quickly scanned and indeed there was a rock, probably three feet across, right in the middle of where they were headed. 

“Son of a bitch!” Colin grunted, trying to turn to avoid it but failing. 

The landing gear hit it hard, knocking her head into the window, the wheel probably breaking off completely. She continued to scream as Colin tried to slow them down, her body lurching forward against the seatbelt. Her head whipped around as they spun in circles in the sand, the plane rumbling away as Colin grunted while he applied the brakes with all of his strength. 

“Hold on, Pen!” he screamed over the roar around them, and she braced herself on the door and the edge of her seat. 

“Fuck!” he yelled as the tail hit the sand, the metal creaking behind them. The still spun, sliding across and then the tail dug into the beach–

Her head snapped to one side, hit something hard, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

The sun was already up when Pen awoke, baking her inside the metal plane. 

Her head throbbed as she cracked her eyes open. She was still in the co-pilot seat, her head hunched over and resting on the control panel. Everything was tilted slightly, the cabin laying to the side a bit. Her side was the one pointing upward, so she looked out the window to see a blue sky and a palm tree swaying in a breeze. She felt her forehead, and there was a huge knot right at her hairline, probably what caused her to pass out as they landed. 

She unlatched the door, and slowly climbed out onto the hot sand, stepping gingerly to make sure nothing was broken, just sore. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Colin greeted her cheerfully. 

She placed both feet on the ground and turned to see him in a baseball hat and sunglasses, reclining on a rock with a tumbler of…something, in his hand. There was a pile of sticks on fire a few feet behind him, which she supposed marked their ‘base camp.’

Base camp. 

Christ, how did she get to this point?

“Welcome to No-Name island! Population two!”

“That wouldn’t happen to be coffee in your hand, would it?” she asked, only a little hopeful. 

“No, it’s a bit stronger than that, but I will gladly share it with you,” he beamed. 

Penelope was not a morning person on her best day, and today certainly was not even close to being even ‘okay.’ 

“You’re awfully perky for someone who crashed his plane last night,” she said, glaring at him as she made her way over to his rock, the sun beating down on her pale skin. 

“I didn’t crash, the storm took us down. I safely landed us on this beautiful beach,” he gestured to their surroundings. 

“Uh-huh. Speaking of, have you been able to speak to someone about picking us up?” she inquired. 

“Nope,” he said, taking a sip of what looked like a dark liquor. 

Did he really keep a glass and a bottle of rum in his plane?

“What do you mean, ‘Nope?’ You haven’t talked to anyone on the radio?”

“Radio’s fried, if you remember from last evening,” he said dryly. 

“You can’t call anyone on your phone?” she asked, going over to the plane again. 

As she wrenched the door open to look for her bag, she heard him say, “There’s no signal. We’re in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Pen. No cell towers for miles.”

“Aha!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and hauling it out onto the sand. She unzipped the pocket and found her cell, and Colin didn’t lie; she had absolutely no service, not even 3G. 

“You don’t have like, one of those satellite phones or something? Shouldn’t you have one as a pilot?”

“Never needed one. On the plane, I use the radio, and on the ground, I use my normal phone. I haven’t exactly been in a situation like this before.”

Penelope huffed, walking back over to him and sitting down. “Well, shit.”

“Shit, indeed,” he agreed. 

“What are we supposed to do?” she demanded. 

“I figure that, when we didn’t arrive in Tahiti last night, Michael would be alarmed enough to know that we probably went down. When we still didn’t arrive this morning, they would send out multiple search parties to look for us. There are only so many places we could be between there and Bora Bora.”

“So you think they’ll find us soon enough?” she hoped. 

“If they think to check the islands, yes.”

“What makes you think they’ll check the islands?”

“They might not.”

“WHAT?” She whipped her neck to face him, fear written all over her face. 

Colin didn’t seem affected. 

“Especially because this one isn’t marked on any maps. It’s uninhabited as far as I can tell,” he said, handing her a folded piece of paper. Upon inspection, Colin had taken notes on it, trying to triangulate where they could be based on where they were when the storm started but had only scribbled a giant question mark over a rather large square of the ocean. 

“So you’re saying we might never be found?” she seethed. 

“I’m saying, it is day one, and there’s no reason to be alarmed. Yet.” He sipped at his drink. 

“You never did have a sense of urgency, did you?” she scoffed. 

“Not once in my entire life.”

Penelope flopped down into the sand, closing her eyes against the light. 

“Can’t we fly back out of here?” she wished. 

“We could if the landing gear wasn’t snapped in half.”

“Can’t you fix it?” she hoped. 

“Pen, look at it.”

She turned her head, and the entire wheel was torn off the rim, and the leg was broken off in a jagged edge, the whole thing hanging over the very boulder than broke it. 

“You can’t fix that?” she asked, keeping her voice light. 

“Yeah, let me pull out my industrial strength glue that can withstand 150 miles per hour on a runway that I keep on hand.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of those guys that fix things with their mysterious man skills?” she challenged. 

“Man skills?” Colin's brows rose. 

“You know, you send them out into the wilderness with a pocket knife and a Q-tip and they build you a shopping mall. You can start a fire with two sticks, and you can fix an engine, so what’s so hard about this?” she queried. 

“Not sure about the shopping mall, but I’ve already started a fire. You’re welcome,” he replied sarcastically. 

Penelope sat up and looked around, taking in the jungle behind them and the ocean before them. The beach was pleasant enough if wanting for a nice towel to spread out so she could roast herself in the sun. The jungle looked dark, lush, and full of plant life and God knows what else lurking in the shadows. She had a feeling that, should they have to stay there long enough, they would need to go looking for fresh water, food, some way of making a shelter that wasn’t a cramped fuselage of a plane…

“So we’re stuck here.” 

“Yep.”

“I am stuck here with you.”

“Yep.”

“We can’t fly.”

“No.” 

“And no one knows we’re here.”

“No. Along with the radio, that lightning strike also fried the emergency location transmitter. We are but a tiny needle in the very, very large haystack that is the Pacific Ocean.” 

“And there’s no way for them to find us?”

“All we have is this flare gun,” he put down his drink to pick it up from the sand, the orange metal a stark contrast to their green surroundings, “and a single flare to go with it.”

“So we could be here for a while.”

“We could be here for a very, very, very, very long time.”

Penelope groaned, falling back onto the sand. “I wanted one vacation. Just one fucking vacation to myself and I had to go and bring work into it and your stupid ass showed up and now I’m stuck with you on a fucking deserted island.”

“That about sums it up, yes.”

She sighed. “Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.”

“Good thing we’re such good pals, right?” Colin said sarcastically, taking a long swig of drink. 

Penelope sighed, wishing she were stuck here with anyone else. “I hope we’re rescued soon. In addition to growing weary of your presence, I’m supposed to meet Malakai tonight…”

“Malakai? Who’s Malakai?”

“The hot bartender I was supposed to sleep with when I got back.”

“Hmm,” Colin made a noise of appreciation. “Casual sex on vacation? Pen, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“As it happens, I don’t have it in me,” she grumbled. 

“You don’t?”

“I do. But I don’t have it in me .”

Colin looked thoroughly confused for a moment before it clicked. “OH! You meant his dick.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’ve never heard you joke about sex very much before, it took a moment for my brain to catch up.”

“Good to know you don’t see me as sexual. Guess I already had an inkling of that, though,” she bickered. 

“Well, with any luck, someone will find us soon and we’ll be back in time for your sex appointment, and you can go back to being bitter about something I said a month ago.”

“I’m going to ignore that last part. What are we supposed to do for food and water? I doubt we can survive on that glass of rum alone.”

“Penelope, you know me better than that.” Colin stood up and went to the plane, crawling into the pilot's seat and maneuvering around in the back where all of the luggage and cargo were stored. He emerged with a massive cooler between his hands and another bag slung over his shoulder. “Of course I have food, and a few gallons of water that we can hopefully fill up again when we find a source of fresh water, and…” he paused to set everything down before rifling through the bag. “Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out a massive bottle of rum. “Entertainment!” 

“You really bring a bottle of rum and a glass with you on your plane?”

“Not just a single glass,” he said, rummaging around again for a moment, “but two glasses!” He pulled out the twin to his and unscrewed the top to the bottle to pour her two fingers worth, shoving it into her hand. 

“I’m going to attempt to look at the engine and see if there’s any damage, should we figure out a way to fly off. Don’t wander too far, and don’t touch anything.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

~

It was a few hours of snacking and reading on her Kindle before she looked up to see Colin, shirtless, with his arms buried in the plane. 

“Everything fine?”

“I think so. I’m just putting the pieces back together now.”

She sighed. 

She would be doing much of the same thing had she stayed on Bora Bora, and yet it was somehow so much worse with him around. He’d tried to start a conversation several times now, but she was determined to brush him off until they were rescued. 

She looked down at herself and realized she was still in the same dress from yesterday, now covered in dirt and sand. 

She stood up abruptly and peeled it off, tossing it on a bush so she could wash it later, revealing the bikini underneath. It was rather different from her usual one piece, but when she saw it on the rack while shopping for some new bras and panties she couldn’t help but try it on. When she saw how good her boobs looked in the green top, she didn’t even look at the price before she bought it, and the matching high-waisted bottoms. 

She laid down beneath a tree with her sunnies and wide-brimmed hat on, intent on taking a siesta, but Colin’s head followed her as she walked, his eyes bugging out of his head. 

She lowered the glasses and raised her brows in question. 

“That’s your bathing suit?” he asked incredulously. 

“Yes. Something wrong?” she smiled. 

“That is two eyepatches stretched across your nipples.” 

Penelope cackled. “I can assure you it came from the swim section at Ann Summers.”

“You don’t usually wear things…like that,” he said, gesturing at her whole body. 

“What, revealing?” she teased, relishing in his baffled expression. 

“Uh…it’s just…so small,” he whispered, stumbling over his words. 

“I don’t know if you knew this, but I had an extreme life change, so I decided I needed to spice a few things up. I’ve got boobs, so on my vacation I thought I should show them off.”

“Goal achieved,” he mumbled, going back to fiddling around with something in the plane engine. 

 He shoved the metal plate back on the front. 

“Did you save me any oranges?”

“Like I could eat them all. You brought a dozen.”

He ate in mostly silence, only weird juicy noises from the orange coming from his mouth. Penelope leaned back and tried to take a nap, but sleep evaded her, even with her headache and the rum running through her veins. 

She would get sunburnt if she remained as she was for much longer, even in the shade. Perhaps she could find some sunscreen as well…

“I need to grab a clean shirt and the shorts I brought with me. That dress is filthy,” she said, standing up and brushing sand off the backs of her thighs. 

Colin watched her bum jiggle as she walked over to the plane. 

“I put everything back inside to keep it sand-free,” he shouted after her, his mouth full of fruit. 

She waved in acknowledgment, and opened up the copilot door, pushing the seat forward so she could access the back. 

She shuffled a few things around, trying to find her case, when…

“Colin Bridgerton!” she shrieked. 

“What, Pen?” he groaned. 

“Is this a fucking boat back here?” 

“It’s an inflatable lifeboat.”

“You let me think I would be trapped with you here for the foreseeable future and you have a bloody boat? We can leave, Colin!”

“Pen, the last thing you want to do is use that poor excuse of a boat to escape somewhere with dry land. We have a whole island here to signal our presence. Imagine if we took that thing out onto the open ocean. We would have limited food and water, and we would be even smaller than we are right now. You don’t want that.”

“Don’t tell me what I want!” she snapped, shifting the brick of rubber over so she could pull at the toggle that said, “Inflate here.” 

“Hey! Pen, no, don’t!” he tried to stop her. “Don’t pull on it–”

Too late, the thing started to inflate rapidly. 

Still inside the plane. 

With Pen stuck behind it. 

“Oh, no no no no…” she panicked, trying to push it out of the door but failing miserably. “COLIN! HELP ME YOU USELESS ARSE! Shit shit shit shit…” 

The whistle of air was too much, and though Colin tried to wrench it out before it inflated completely, he wasn’t fast enough. The orange boat filled the entire cabin and cockpit, growing larger and larger, squeaking against the metal, spilling out a bit from the door before it finally stopped. 

“I said don’t Pen!” he yelled. 

He heard a mumbling coming from inside, something like, “ Hehmeh. Gemeou-a heh. Gemeou-a heh!” with a lot of heavy panting and moaning. 

Pen’s face was pressed to the window in the back of the fuselage, and on any other day Colin might have laughed. She’d been such a bitch all day, he almost thought she deserved it. 

“Are you done acting stupid for the day?” he joked. 

“Fuchyu.”

“What was that?”

“Fuckyuh!”

“I still didn’t get that.” 

She slowly, carefully, peeled her middle finger up from her fist and smashed it against the glass.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Chapter Text

Once freed from the plane, Penelope grumpily sat down beneath her tree again, pouting.

She hated when he rescued her because she knew he enjoyed it far too much. 

She always wondered if that was why they were such good friends; she constantly needed his saving, from sleazy men to her own mother. He did it with all of the women in his life, but it just happened to Penelope so often , like she attracted assholes into her life. 

“I’m gonna go look for some water.”

She looked up to see Colin carrying two of their empty water jugs. 

“Want to come with me?” 

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for a very hot, buggy, sticky afternoon. “Not really, but what else do I have to do?”

“Your enthusiasm is admirable. Please put something on over that…swimsuit. Your tits are so big they’re gonna fall out of it, and I don’t want to deal with you having bug bites all over that particular part of your body.”

She shot him a glare, but all he did was smirk and stare blatantly at her boobs. 

“I didn’t want you ogling my tits anyway.”

She stood up and brushed the sand from the backs of her thighs. She picked up the dress from the bush she left it on earlier and pulled it back over her body, still dirty, and snatched a jug from his hand. He glanced at her appraisingly, stopping at her feet. 

“Are those sandals all you have?” he questioned. 

“Yes? I didn’t think I would need hiking boots in Tahiti,” she grumbled. She only had a pair of shorts, a tee shirt, and two changes of underwear in her bag on the plane. She would have to get creative if they were going to be stuck there for a while. 

“I guess they’ll have to do. Step right behind where I step, though. We don’t need you getting stung or bit or something,” he instructed. 

“What makes you think I’m the one that’s gonna get hurt here, Mr. Jungle Man? You said yourself you don’t do things like this,” she questioned him. 

And he didn’t. Colin, for all of his world traveling, was not much of an outdoorsman unless it involved a cabin and a case of beer. The farthest he ever went off the grid was on his family’s annual skiing trip in the Swiss Alps, and even then they still had electricity. 

He knew, however, that Pen had hardly ever left London before, much less spent a night anywhere that could be considered ‘wilderness.’ He doubted that, even if she knew that they would be stranded on a tropical island, she would have any hiking boots to bring with her. 

“Just be careful, Pen. Please,” he pleaded with her. 

“I promise to not put myself in danger on purpose,” she vowed very dramatically, holding her right hand over her heart. “Now can we get going? I don’t want to be in there after dark.” 

He picked up a machete and started off into the jungle. 

Penelope’s mouth gaped at the sight. 

“Where did you get a bloody machete?”

“I keep one in the plane. It finally came in handy,” he explained. 

“They let you get that through security?”

“They do when there is no security.”  

It was slow going as he hacked away at brush, vines, and leaves as big as her head, clearing a path for them. There were bugs everywhere, and when she wasn’t watching her steps, Penelope was slapping a bug off her skin. 

They seemed to be just…wandering. 

“Do you have an idea of where we’re going?” she asked. 

“Generally. There are bugs and birds here, so there must be water somewhere. I figure if we go inland, we should find the source. It rained last night, so hopefully whatever stream is here will be running fast and we can hear it.”

Smack !

“ Pppft !” she buzzed her lips as a large fern hit her in the face.

“Sorry, Pen!” he turned back to look at her and give her an apologetic smile before continuing. 

They took a few more steps, and–

Whack !

“Fucking hell, Colin. Let me lead if you’re gonna hit me with branches,” she pushed her way in front of him, blazing a path with sheer determination. 

Colin, a little dazed by her actions, shook his head. 

“I’m sorry! I forget you’re so short, and the sticks that hit me in the chest are going to hit you in the face.”

“I thought you were supposed to be clearing them?” she fumed, still rubbing a sore spot on her face. 

“It’s taking too long, and it’s a lot of effort, so I was just doing the stuff by our heads,” he explained. 

“Our heads? Just your stupid big head–” she started to grumble. 

“Shhhh,” he shushed her. 

She whipped her head around. “Did you just shush me?!”

“Yes, I did, now shush . I hear something,” he held up his hand to signal her to stop moving. 

Scared by the idea of something in the forest, she paused, listening with him. 

Beyond the chirping of birds and the buzz of insects…

There was a dull roar.

“Left! Go left!” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his plastic jugs. 

Struggling in her shoes, she pushed her way through some more brush for a minute or two, single-mindedly looking, searching through the green, beyond the sticks, when…there it was.

“God, look at that!” she said in awe.

It was a waterfall, a few dozen feet long and dumping into a pool of clear water, a light mist swirling around them. A break in the trees let the sun shine through, creating an ethereal beam that landed in the water. 

“Perfect!” Colin shouted over the noise. “We won’t dehydrate! Pen this is–”

“Oh FUCK , WHAT IS THAT?” she shrieked, pointing to his right. 

There was a rustling in the reeds, a snuffling and snorting noise coming from the movement. 

Pen backed away quickly, her flight instinct taking over. A brown…thing emerged from the greenery. She kept wading back into the water, all the way up to her waist. It felt cold, and her feet sank into the sandy bottom, but it was better than dying to whatever just came out of the jungle. 

Colin was incredibly amused at her reaction. 

“Pen, it’s only a pig! He’s more afraid of us than we are of–here, watch,” he gestured. “Oi! Gowon! Git! Flee! Shoo!” he waved his arms wildly, causing the creature to back away into some weeds. 

“Yeah, fuck off, ya great ham–OHhhh wwwaaAAAA–” her eyes went wide, her arms hovered just above the surface, her whole body frozen, the jugs floating away as she dropped them.

“Pen? What’s wrong?” he stopped making motions at the pig and turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted and her breaths coming in measures. 

“There’s a problem,” she squealed.

“Problem? What–” he puzzled. 

“ There’sasnakeinmydress ,” she hissed. 

“A what?” 

“There’s a snake. In my dress,” she stated. 

“Oh,” Colin looked very, very worried. “That’s bad.”

“Well, it’s not good, is it?” she snapped. 

“It could be poisonous, Pen.”

“Poisonous?” she shrilled. Colin started to wade in next to her. “What do I do? What should I do? Do I just go between my legs and grab it?”

“No, no, don’t do that. It could bite you,” he warned. 

“It could bite me right now, you dunce.”

“Just, stand still,” he calmed her, keeping his voice slow and low. 

“What are you doing?” she started to panic at his proximity. He was an arm's length from her and coming nearer still. 

“Relax.” 

The air felt tense as he moved closer, his hand under the water. He grabbed at her dress.

“Wha–ooug–wha you–hah–” she stammered. 

“Shut up, Pen,” he ordered, and she snapped her mouth shut. “I need to concentrate.”

“Oh–okay..” she whispered. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” he looked into her scared eyes.

“Yes,” she whimpered. 

And she did, more than anyone else in the world at that moment. 

She knew, deep down, she trusted him with anything. 

He reached his hand down between her legs, the snake wiggling around under the fabric of her dress floating around her waist. She rested one of her hands on his shoulder for balance, the other one clutching at her own hair as he stared down at her hips, his palm slipping around her thigh.

“Better not catch you smiling,” she joked, and he smirked at her. 

Slowly, so achingly slowly, he lifted up the dress, his other hand slipping up her leg and over to her bikini-covered vulva, touching her as he carefully felt around for–

He gripped something suddenly, taking the snake by the head, yanking it out of the water, and chucking it into some bushes. Pen shrieked the entire time, her arms flailing as they tried to figure out what to do. 

And then it was over. 

And he still had a hand between her thighs. 

“That went better than I anticipated,” she said, still not moving. 

Colin, regrettably, removed his hand. 

“Was that enough of a ‘man skill’ for you?” he smirked. He pushed off from the bottom, swimming over to grab the jugs that floated away in her panic. 

“I would say you shouldn’t let it get to your head, but I know you well enough to see it already has.”

She couldn’t see his face but knew he rolled his eyes. “Come on, grumpy snake pant, help me fill these up so we can go back to the beach. I think I have an idea of what we’ll have for dinner, and it will require a lot of work on my part.”

“It involves that poor pig, doesn’t it?”

“It’s like you’re inside my brain.” 

~

Back in London, Anthony Bridgerton sat at his desk in his high-rise office. It was the end of a very, very long day and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his wife and children and eat a large, very unhealthy Nando’s dinner. 

He was just turning off his computer and packing up his briefcase for the day when his phone rang. 

He saw the caller ID and groaned, hesitating for a moment before picking up the receiver. 

“Hello, Agatha. What could you possibly require of me on this fine Tuesday–”

“Spare the pleasantries, we have a problem,” she interjected. 

“A prob–”

“Your brother and Penelope did not arrive in Tahiti last night.”

Oh.

“Why was Penelope going to Tahiti? Isn’t she in London? I know Colin’s over there right now, but–”

“She is vacationing in Bora Bora and I asked her to head over for a day to write an article on Michael. I hired Colin as a charter flight, and I guess there was a storm or something,” she explained. 

“Well, did they have to turn back to Bora Bora mid-flight?” he asked. 

“I already checked. They aren’t there, either,” she stated. She sounded frantic, which was highly unusual for the stoic woman. 

“And they didn’t go to a neighboring island?”

“No. They’re missing, Anthony,” she stated. “They can’t find his plane, the GPS turned off in the middle of the flight. They could have been struck by lightning, or blown off course by wind, or–”

His brother and a long-time family friend were missing in the Pacific Ocean. 

“Fuck,” he hissed into the receiver, his mind racing. “I told Colin I would buy him a newer plane than that stupid Beaver thing he insisted on taking everywhere. I’ll fly out as soon as I can. Are there search parties organized already? How many? I’ll pay to double them–” he rambled. 

“There’s something like four teams checking the water and any islands on their route. It’s only been about 12 hours, so chances are they’re still floating around or, even better, they landed somewhere and are waiting for rescue,” she tried to reassure him. 

“I’m going to Tahiti. I need to search for myself. Let me know if anyone else wants to assist.”

“I’m sorry, Anthony. If I didn’t ask Penelope–” she started.

“You couldn’t have predicted any of this, Mrs. Danbury. No one is at fault.”

“I still feel guilty,” she sighed. 

“I know the feeling. Call me with any updates.”

“I will.” 

He hung up to see Eloise standing at his door, her brows furrowed. 

“Pen is missing?”

“Yes, she and Colin were supposed to fly to Tahiti and they never showed up.”

“She told me Agatha asked her to work yesterday. Do they know what happened?”

“They know the GPS stopped over the water, and there was a storm. They’ve sent out search parties, but I’m going there myself as soon as I can–”

“I’m coming with you,” she insisted. 

Anthony sighed. While he admired her determination, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea for his younger sister to slow him down. “El, don’t you think–”

“I only think that my best friend and my brother were in some sort of crash, and are desperately requiring rescue, and another pair of eyes could make all the difference. I’m coming with you.”

She clearly was not going to back down. 

He relented. “Fine. I’ll book your flight with mine. I’m leaving as soon as I can, so go home and pack and be ready to get in the car. I’ll send one to take you to the airport. I won’t wait for you.”

“I know you won’t,” she smiled, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. “They’re gonna be okay, right Ant?”

He walked over to her and wrapped her up in his arms. “I hope so, El. I don’t want to lie to you so I won’t say they’ll be fine, but I really, really hope they are.”

“I’m scared,” she sniffled, her tears dampening his suit jacket. 

He leaned into her, resting his head on top of hers. “Me too.”