Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

ATTEMPT 3- FAILED LUKE

We'd been at this raft for days, patching it up, lashing new pieces of bamboo, making it as seaworthy as possible - not that I think it would pass any inspections. It just needed to get us to a nearby island fucking alive. We also needed to get there quickly - Josh's leg was looking like shit and there was a faint red line running up his thigh which Sarah said was not a good sign. I saw the panic on his face but we didn't talk about it.

She'd boiled seawater, washed out the wound, and smeared on some herbal paste Josh had read about in one of his survival journals. And while mango was good for his boredom, it wouldn't kill an infection. If it did, Josh would be immune to infection by

now.

Finally, the sunset, and I did my best to get comfortable on the sand - not fucking possible but exhaustion would take over at some point. It always did.

A crackling whip of thunder tore through the silence, and I shot upright just as thick raindrops began pelting down. I scrambled to my feet, looking out at the once-

peaceful beach, now a thrashing mess of rain and wind, trees bowing under the force of the storm. "Oh Fuck!" Josh yelled as his hammock swung wildly, then crashed to the ground.

"Get up!" I shouted as Sarah. I started grabbing what I could and put Josh's arm over my shoulder to help him up.

04 07

ATTEMPTS

PTS-FAILED

to get to the cave by the waterfall-now!"

***

from where I'd slumped against the wall, and the gritty taste of dried salt was still on my

standing up. Josh lay sprawled on his back a

him with my foot. "Hey, rise and

something incoherent, swatting me away like I was a fly,

it over?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and glancing around as if momentarily forgetting where we were. Then her gaze fell on me, and she nodded, grim but awake. I helped her up, and the three of us shuffled outside, feeling the weight of the night's

ATTEMPT 3-FAILED

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jutting out. like fractured bones. Branches and leaves littered the ground, and the air smelled of wet foliage and the aftermath of a storm. The beach was unrecognizable; debris was scattered everywhere, and the sand was churned and matted as if a giant had stomped across it in a

his voice breaking

shocked, but Josh just shrugged, lifting one of his precious journals with a smug little grin. "Says it right here in the book," he said, waving

I muttered, but he just shot me a smug look and kept reading, unbothered

want to look, didn't want to see what might've happened to the raft. But the second my eyes hit

the beach, tangled in seaweed and

flapping weakly in the breeze. The raft we'd spent days working on, carefully lashing every piece together, was

at the wreckage in silence. The

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ATTEMPT 3-TAILED

265-chry