Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (hardest books to read txt) 📕

water surrounded me. I couldn't swim, couldn't do anything but keep my head above the water to save myself.

"Bree!" Something grabbed me and I screamed.

"What the fuck are you doing?”

“Savin’ you, you idiot!”

If he replied, I didn’t get the chance to hear it. The wave hit me hard, spiraling me down into the deep and the rope slipped from my hands as the water drowned my screams. I coughed, only to choke on new water. Something grabbed me, pulling me away, and in the panic that followed I tried to struggle against it. Lack of oxygen made me weak, and the burning pressure in my lungs increased. Then, the water cleared and for a few seconds of panic I couldn’t catch my breath. As if in a haze, I heard his voice, felt him holding on to me. My eyes shot opened, and the water spurted from my throat in a mix of coughs and gargles.

The curses rolling off his lips sounded like music to my ears. I tried to turn, to hold onto him, but the water kept on rolling, moving me away from him, and he once again disappeared in the waves. I screamed his name, trying to get any bearing to where he’d gone, but only heard the roar of nature.

Another wave rolled over my head, and the last thing I saw was the dark rocks looming above. The few seconds felt like hours as the power of the sea dragged me down into the dark.

Clinging to the rope, I broke the surface with a gasp for air. As if by magic he was right there. He called my name again, and something in his voice seemed off.

"Grab the rope." I flung it in his direction. "Come on." Another wave washed us together and I grabbed him, holding on as if my life depended on it.

"Hold on to the rope!" I yelled "I'll try to get to the shore!"

We both collapsed onto the beach in a pile of wet and shivering limbs. Something in the back of my mind urged me to get up, to do something, but I didn’t have the energy to move my legs.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, I lifted my head in an attempt to get up. The weight of his body on top of mine held me down. The fangirl in me wanted to scream, and for a few seconds the feeling of amazement hijacked my senses. Then the reality hit, and I managed to focus.

"Hey.” I tried to move away. "Johnny?" He didn't move. I scooted away, letting his body sink to the ground. Stroking hair out of his face, my fingers came back red. I gasped, staring at my hand in shock.

Trembling, I reached out to move more wet hair away, revealing a gash right above his temple. My hand froze, eyes locking on the blood trickling down the side of his face in a steady trail of crimson.

“Shit!”

Without thinking, I stripped off my t-shirt and pressed it to the wound.

He stirred, letting out a low groan.

"Hey. You ok?" I whispered.

I wasn’t sure whether I’d expected a reply or not, but it never came. Instead, he blinked, squinting up at me.

“Wh—what happened?"

"You're bleedin'." It didn't answer his question, but it was the most logical thing that came to my mind.

Confusion flashed across his face. He lifted a hand, hesitated for a few seconds before touching the side of his head. Then he grimaced, eyeing the blood that had stained his fingers.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "How—" He cut himself off as his eyes landed on me, and widened.

I eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

A grin crept onto his lips and he gestured with a bloodied hand toward me. “What happened to your shirt?”

“It’s . . .” My eyes drifted from the shirt in my hand, down to my chest. I froze. I’d had no thought of the lack of a bra. My cheeks burned as I lifted my gaze, finding him ogling my naked chest. Snatching the shirt back, I scrambled into it in record time before glancing back at him. The way he looked at me was so intense it made me flinch. My belly clenched and my already throbbing pulse went into overdrive. I was stunned. It didn't make sense. Something about that gaze was more than I could handle.

Finally, he averted his eyes, whispering a breathless, “Sorry.”

My cheeks flushed with heat. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

A long silence fell between us, and I was torn between embarrassment and the need to nurse that wound.

Finally, I dared to look back at him. He lay on his back, staring up at the sky with a tortured look on his face.

“Hey,” I began. “I’m sorry about that.” I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head at my stupidity.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t mind.”

I scoffed, feeling my cheeks flush a second time.

The look on his face changed, and he turned his eyes on me with sudden recognition.

"You went in." He stated the obvious. "Fuck it, Bree. Don't ever do that again."

My eyes widened, and my mouth formed a little O, but the words never came. I closed it again, staring at him.

"I saved your life," I snapped. "A thanks would be nice.”

He groaned and struggled into a sitting position. The curses he muttered under his breath resembled those of my Irish grandpa, and I tried not to cringe.

"Thanks." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. My cheeks burned with humiliation. What had I done? This was Johnny Grey for God’s sake. What was I thinking, talking to him like that?

The apology that burned inside of me was forgotten as he got to his feet. I jumped up in time to grab his arms to steady him as he stumbled.

"You ok?" I asked, eyeing the still-bleeding wound with a growing sense of guilt in my heart. A thanks would be good? My mind taunted me. What the hell?

He mumbled something I couldn't interpret. By the looks of