Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I crouch behind the lush greenery, convinced I'm hidden from view as I steal glances at Eve and Zane by the tropical lagoon. My poor eyesight doesn't help, somewhat obscuring the scene. The waterfall also partially hides what’s going on between them, but there is no doubt the kind of wild fucking going on there.

Their intimacy is like a dagger twisting in my gut, a reminder of everything I long for but can never have.

Maybe I had a chance. For one brief moment, I believed I did, but I’m surrounded by the kind of muscle I know I’ll never be able to compete with. I see the way Eve looks at them with wild lust emblazoned in her sparkling blue eyes. It’s nowhere near the way she looks at me.

She sympathizes with me, and for that, I hate her for it.

I’m her little brother, and I fucking loathe that. I’ve always been the younger one at everything. I skipped three years at school, so no girl ever wanted to date someone so young and immature.

Except I’ve been at Hawthorne’s for an entire year, and while I’m ahead of Eve, I’m also the same age as her. Yet the same shit that happened to me at school is happening now at college, and it shouldn’t. The circumstances are different. She’s my equal, but fate always wants me to be the guy who’s first in education and second best in everything else.

With Eve, there are four other males ahead of me. That makes me the fifth best. Zane has already claimed second place.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a voice cuts through the air, dripping with cockiness, and I know exactly who it belongs to.

My heart lurches as I realize I've been caught. Slowly, I emerge from my hiding spot, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I look up to find Astro casually peeling a banana and biting into it.

"Oh, uh, hey, I was just... uh..."

But before I can muster up a decent excuse, Astro interrupts, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry, mate, I won't tell anyone you're a pervert."

“You’re imagining things. In case you forgot, without my glasses, I can’t see fuck all.” It’s a weak argument, but Astro’s intelligence is that of a delinquent, always ready to challenge but never quite grasping the details.

“So you’re here for the audio.” His lips curl a touch upwards, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly higher than the other, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and condescension.

“The sound of the waterfall obscures everything. I think you’re delusional if you think?.”

My words are suddenly cut off as Eve’s cries of passion echo loudly around the lagoon, and the smirk on Astro’s face says it all.

“Pervert,” he says, keeping to his original accusation.

My stomach churns at the word, but before I can protest, he continues. “She’s out of your league, mate. You should have already realized that.”

It’s not enough that I’m aware of my inadequacies, this bastard has to outline them for me. My fists clench tight, and I will them not to leave my sides because the last thing I need is to interrupt the two down by the lagoon and draw attention to us. After all, I know Astro will start a wildfire about catching me like this.

“You need to stick to your own kind of female, male, or whatever kind of creature you’ve fucked before.” He says, taking another large bite of his banana and I want to shove that fruit down his throat deep until it sticks out of his fucking arse.

He suddenly stops eating, taking notice of my silence.

“You’re a bloody virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I grit my teeth together.

“Yeah, you are. Otherwise, why else would you think someone like Eve would be interested in you.” He tosses the banana peel over his shoulder.

A monkey would have disposed of the leftover food better than this disgraceful buffoon.

“Don't worry, mate, I won't tell anyone your secret, nor about you being a pervert,” he grins like an arrogant prick. "Consider it a favor. And you owe me one now. Remember that."

I want to shove my fist into his face, but all I manage is a muttered, "Piss off, Astro."

I saunter off, feeling the shame build up inside me. I can't help but feel the weight of my inadequacy crushing down on me. I hate myself for getting caught, for being so pathetic, for realizing that I'll never have what Zane or Mr.Coldwell have with Eve. With a heavy heart, I continue deep into the jungle, knowing that I'll forever be on the outside looking in, forever inadequate, forever alone.

We’re all gathered around the crackling fire, and the darkness of the night envelopes us like a shroud. Dinner is done, but the tension still hangs thick in the air after the embarrassing encounter earlier.

So far, Astro has kept his mouth shut, but I wouldn’t trust him if this whole jungle was on fire, and he was my only hope to save me. I’m ready to split this group and find a secluded spot to live on this island, away from everyone. I've been independent my entire life, fending for myself. I'm confident I can manage, even in these challenging circumstances.

“It’s kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering,” Jack suddenly blurts out of nowhere. “What’s going to happen to us when we get rescued?”

“We go back to living our lives,” I mutter, knowing Eve and Mr. Coldwell would never be able to carry on as they do now. I watch his face frown, and I’m glad I’m not the only loser to realize he can’t have what his dick wants.

Mr. Coldwell doesn’t fit in her world any more than I do, and it's not just because he's a teacher. She’s a part of a society that is not open to men like him. I know exactly how it feels to be excluded from that society even though, by blood right, I could demand my place in it.

“Well, I miss my Bessie too,” Jack says, “but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Bessie?” Eve asks, and it’s obvious she regrets the question the moment it leaves her mouth.

Jack responds with a sly smile.

“Well…,” Astro blurts out. “Just look at that! Eve’s got a touch of the green monster. Never took you for an emo girl. You seem way too detached from your emotions and definitely not introverted enough.”

“Shut up, Astro,” Eve fires back sharply. “No one’s interested in what a felon has to say.”

“Hey, babe,” Mr. Coldwell suddenly realizes he’s addressing her affectionally in front of all of us but pretends that little slip-up never happened. “Don’t stoop to his level and drop name-calling. You’re better than that.” He tries to smooth over his slip-up, but I don’t think anyone cares. We all heard them the other night like freaking savages.

“So you’re saying he’s not a felon?” Zane chimes in with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“It’s not my place to call anyone out for their past,” Mr. Coldwell adds, and I’m assuming he’s read everyone’s student file, including legal background checks the institution makes.

God only knows why Astro was accepted with his questionable past, and I’m not referring to his supposed time in prison. The Doukas family is a shady group hailing from a criminal syndicate that runs London’s less rosey underground business ventures.

“So I’m assuming you’ve read all our student files,” I remark dryly, and it’s not a question; it's just a fact.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Eve quickly steps in to defend the teacher

“Just pointing out a fact. He’s had access to all our private files.”

“I have nothing to hide,” she retorts defensively.

“You’re missing my point.”

“No,” she insists. “I understand what you’re insinuating, and it’s to stir up trouble. Do you have a problem with me and who I sleep with?”

“Why would I care?” I reply. “But there’s an ethical code that Mr. Coldwell swore to uphold when he took on the role of our teacher.”

“But you do care. Don’t you, Byron?” Astro interjects, crossing his legs casually. "Care to enlighten us all on why you're so fixated on Eve's relationship with Mr. Coldwell?"

Bastard’s mocking me.

The venom surges within me. I'd love nothing more than to ram Jack' s knife straight into Astro's smug face.

“Cat got your tongue or something?” he taunts, that infuriating grin plastered on his face.

“Let me clarify this situation,” Mr. Coldwell interjects calmly. “I am not a professor at Hawthornes—at least not yet. I’m currently studying for my master’s degree. I took up this part-time position as an assistant professor in the sociology department because I was asked to, and the salary was pretty decent. However, my primary responsibility lies in instructing the new sports section, focusing on taekwondo and fencing.

“Dean Carmichael and the board are eager for the institution to gain recognition in sports, particularly the upcoming Olympics next year. They are keen for the college to excel in sports, aiming for their students to represent Great Britain. Martial arts, with its emphasis on discipline and prestige, has been chosen for this purpose,” he explains, shedding light on his position in the college.

“So, to answer your statement about student-teacher relationships, they’re frowned upon. In fact, they would violate the institute’s rules. But what Eve and I decide after we get off this island is a decision she and I make, one which you will have no privy to.”

I remain quiet, knowing he’s made it clear this topic is not up for further debate, and the last I want to do is look like a knobhead insisting that he faces a prima facie violation back home regardless of what he decides with Eve.

“In case you were wondering, Bessie’s my motorbike,” Jack suddenly blurts out, breaking the tension. Eve bursts into laughter, followed by Zane, and soon, we're all caught in a fit of hysterical chuckles.

“So you were referring to your motorcycle?” Zane manages to ask through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.

Jack’s eyes gleam with excitement.

“She’s much more than that,” the gothic weirdo licks his lips as he gazes at Eve. “She’s my mistress.” His tone is slightly suggestive, causing her to blush.

I wonder if something is going on with those two. I understand her shagging Zane —it's like a cliché. The popular American girl with the college jock. And Mr. Coldwell is probably just the British version of Zane.

But Jack? He’s an entirely different kind of species, and I can’t see her being attracted to him.

“So you jerk off to your bike? ”

Zane's question hangs in the air as Jack considers his words carefully.

“That would be sacrilege to Bessie,” Jack responds, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

“I can see where Jack is coming from,” Eve interjects with a thoughtful voice, and I watch as Jack cocks his head sideways at her with curious interest.

“You can hold something in high esteem, even if it's just an object or a concept. For instance,” she glances around the group before fixing her gaze on Zane. “Your passion for taekwondo and fencing. You've got a sports scholarship for both, and you live and breathe those sports. I remember when you told me about winning national championships.”

“Actually, I’m curious about that,” I add. “Why wouldn’t you represent America in the Olympics and choose Britain instead?”

Zane's sudden discomfort catches me off guard as he tosses a stone into the fire. It's unusual to see him so unsettled; he usually exudes confidence and stands tall. But now, there's a profound sense of discontent, and I can't help but wonder if there's more to his personal circumstances than meets the eye.

Sensing his unease, Eve instinctively moves closer to him, her hand resting gently on his thigh, offering a silent reassurance. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about the bond between them.

“Martial arts was never my first choice,” he suddenly declares, sighing heavily as if he's been carrying a weight on his shoulders that he needs to unload. I’m not holding his relationship with Eve against him. In fact, I don't have anything against Zane at all. If anything, I'd consider him a friend if I had any.

“I played quarterback in high school,” Zane reveals, breaking the silence.

Jack and Astro exchange puzzled looks, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

“Sorry mate, dunno know what that is,” Astro says on behalf of all of us.

“American Football,” Mr. Coldwell clarifies, shedding light on the matter.

“I didn’t know you played that position,” Eve responds softly to Zane. Then, addressing the rest of us, she adds, "It's actually a prestigious position to have on the team.”

“The most crucial,” Zane clarifies. “Not that it made any difference for the recruiting coaches. I did everything right with regard to navigating my way across each step of the application process, from earnestly reaching out to the recruiters and submitting my SAT scores ahead of schedule, not to mention dedicating my summers to grueling training camps for the last three years. I had the perfect grades. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

“So what happened?” Eve asks, and we’re all glued on Zane.

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze shifting as he gathers his thoughts. Finally, he begins to speak, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

“Coach said scouts were searching for something beyond our expectations. The demand outweighed the supply. One of my teammates was offered the same athletic financial aid I had applied for. He played runner.”

“That’s not as crucial as QB,” Eve remarks, displaying her knowledge of the game. Judging by the brief grin he gives her, it's clear he respects her for it, too.

“I come from Federal Heights,” Zane expands, “it’s a town my parents moved to when I was six, and I grew up hating it. My parents are ranch helpers. They work ten-hour shifts for a below-salary wage with no medical and no chance of ever getting anything better. I have always had dreams, and none of them had to do with that place. This was supposed to be my ticket out of town, my chance to start a real future for myself. I refuse to remain trapped in that town like my parents are for the rest of my life.”

He lets out a deep sigh, the weight of his words evident in the exhalation.

“Football always ran deep for me. It wasn’t just a mere passion, but it became an integral part of my identity and lifestyle. That adrenaline rush I felt every time I stepped onto the field, the exhilaration of a perfectly executed play, and the solidarity I shared with my teammates created an unparalleled sense of happiness and satisfaction to my well-being.”

He meets my gaze head-on, his eyes revealing a depth of emotion.

“Football is my life. It’s deeply engraved into my identity.”

Eve releases him, understanding that he doesn't want her pity, nor does she want to offer it. It is interesting how she knows how to read his needs .

"So, how did you transition to martial arts?" I inquire, curiosity piqued.

“I only pursued taekwondo and fencing to enhance my football skills,” Zane explains. “Coach made the entire team take classes. Somehow, I developed a natural hack for it. For two consecutive years, I won every state championship and made it to the national level, but I never took part because football was my focus.”

“I saw the application video your coach sent to Hawthornes,” Mr. Coldwell reveals. "I was involved in the selection process. Zane, there's no doubt in my mind—you have what it takes to win gold in the Olympics.”

The encouragement in his voice speaks volumes, but his genuine admiration for Zane goes beyond mere encouragement.

“And that’s why I applied. While the idea of heading to some Braveheart-esque country was not exactly what I had in mind for my future, I wasn’t going to decline an offer to get out of Federal Heights where I had no future.”

“And your parents?”

“My parents never understood my need for college football or do anything beyond the town’s borders. They never finished high school. My mom had me at sixteen. My father isn’t my biological father, but he’s the man with whom she’s lived with but never married. I have no idea who my birth father is. He ran off as soon as he knocked her up. I had always been this burden to her. She never admitted it, but with the kind of distant relationship we had, she made it painfully obvious. When I was old enough to take care of myself, I focused on football and spent less time at home. Not that she was ever there, to begin with. I never want to end up like either of them. Just living without a purpose. But even now, my scholarship hangs on a very thin line. It’s dependable on whether I make it to the Olympic team. If I don’t, my ass will be shipped back to a town I despise with every sense of the word.”

“We’ll get you through, mate,” Mr. Coldwell assures Zane. "When you feel ready, we can begin training."

“Here? On the island?” Zane questions.

“No better place to focus,” Mr. Coldwell responds. "Just before sundown, when there's still enough light, but it's not as warm and sunny."

“I’m curious,” Jack interjects to Mr. Coldwell. “Why did you drop out of the Olympics to go into teaching? Surely, you're not old enough to retire from sports."

“Well, my reasons are somewhat similar to Zanes’s. When karate dropped out of the Olympics, I lost my spirit. Karate isn’t just about fighting; the first rule of martial arts is not to use your training to hurt someone unless you absolutely have to. To me, the passion I had for the sport was something inside me; it was never just a discipline or some fighting technique, so when it was thrown out of the Olympics for not gaining enough interest, it broke me in a way that I find difficult to explain. I lost my will to participate. My first sensei once told me defeat is merely a detour, not a dead-end. It’s kind of how I felt at the time, defeated that I had worked so hard, only to be told by Olympic officials to piss off. I could have continued participating in Taekwondo and fencing, but I snapped.”

Mr. Coldwell hesitates. His brow furrows, and his jaw tenses. His eyes momentarily lose their usual warmth, instead reflecting a distant, troubled gaze. His shoulders slump subtly, a sign of the weight of the memories he's revisiting. His entire expression is briefly clouded by thoughts he'd rather not dwell on.

“I had a moment where I lost control in a way I shouldn't have, and I realized I'd failed to uphold my discipline," he explains solemnly. "It was a wake-up call. I possess skills that could potentially determine someone's fate, and in that moment of anger, I recognized the danger of not being able to rein in that dark side of myself. So, I made the decision to shift my focus. I committed to earning my degree at university, and then this opportunity at Hawthornes arose. I negotiated a deal where I could work in the sports section, training aspiring professional athletes in martial arts.”

“I bet you made your folks all proud with your shiny-arsed useless medals,” Astro quips, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery.

As much as I’m not so keen on Mr. Coldwell, it has more to do with his taboo relationship with Eve, so I can only wish that the darker side of him emerges to get rid of Astro.

“My mum died of cancer when I was fourteen, and I never met my father,” Mr. Coldwell retorts, his voice carrying the weight of his past. "He was a squaddie who died in Afghanistan while on duty, and she was pregnant with me. "

The gravity of Mr. Coldwell's words hangs heavy in the air, and we all stare at Astro, questioning why this knobhead hasn't been forcefully removed from our camp yet.

“I’m sure your father’s proud of your achievements, Astro,” Zane adds sarcastically.

A smile tugs at my lips in response to Zane's remark. Instead of replying, Astro mumbles something under his breath, a sign that perhaps his facade of bravado is beginning to crack under the weight of reality.

“I graduated school with a 5.0 GPA score, but my parents barely acknowledged it,” Eve suddenly blurts out. I don’t know much about American grades, but judging by Zane's surprise and Mr. Coldwell’s bright smile, I assume that’s pretty high.

“That’s top Ivy League level,” Zane says with a sudden newfound admiration as he stares at Eve with wide eyes.

I’m pretty impressed, too. I never took her for a brainiac.

“Well, it was hard work between studying and keeping up with my social life. I’m not a naturally smart person. I need to study hard because it doesn’t come so easily to me. I crashed a few times along the way, but in my world, you hide that shit.”

“Is that why you attend Hawthornes? To get away from your social crowds?” Mr. Coldwell asks, and I think that’s an interesting concept. I know everything there is to the kinds of crowds she was brought up in. I lived as an outsider, always looking in but forcefully kept out with an invisible barrier.

“I came mostly to get away from my parents,” Eve explains, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Not that they're ever around, but when they do show up, it's usually to use me against each other. My parents used to fight a lot and used me as their ammunition against each other. Things have calmed down since they learned how to live separate lives and just use each other for social status.”

“So you weren’t exactly loved by everyone,” Astro mocks. “Sounds like a classic case of 'poor little rich girl' syndrome.”

"I attended an elite prep school where popularity is crucial for social status," Eve continues, ignoring Astro's sarcasm. "It was a constant struggle to maintain my status in a school where everyone wanted to tear me down. I was Evelyn Winters—everyone in Manhattan knows who my parents are. My mother thrust me into society when I was just nine. "

“So you were a popular celebrity with no achievements to your name,” Astro jeers.

"That's what I was expected to be," Eve counters. "But I couldn’t just be the most popular; I had to be the smartest too.”

"Poor you," Astro sneers.

“Do you have any idea how suffocating it is to be so popular in Manhattan?" Eve retorts, her frustration evident. "Everyone loved me, but I hated it! I hated having to conform to society's expectations.”

“You should spend a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people,” Astro shoots back, his tone laced with disdain.

“She achieved top grades, asshole,” Zane retorts sharply, defending Eve. “A lot more than you.”

“I’ve achieved a lot more than any of you,” Astro challenges.

“Prison isn’t an achievement,” Zane counters, his voice cutting through Astro’s arrogance.

“At least I was never pampered like some prized puppy dog.” Astro's gaze lands on Eve, his expression contorted into a mocking sneer. “So you suffered social anxiety, boo-fucking-hoo, darling. Some of us were born into things we don’t like, but other than you, no one else here is feeling sorry for themselves or crying about how much their privileged lives sucked.”

“You know I have just as many feelings as you do, and it hurts when someone steps all over them.” Eve brushes away a single tear, her gesture not lost on Mr. Coldwell and Zane, who exchange a concerned frown aimed at Astro. In unison, they rise to their feet and take a step toward him, their expressions stern and resolute. Tension crackles in the air, and in that moment, anything seems possible.

I hope they kill him.

Astro’s had it coming for a while now.

“I think that’s about enough—"

“I’ve always been invisible to the world,” Jack suddenly blurts out, his voice cutting through the tension, interrupting whatever action Mr. Coldwell and Zane were about to do regarding Astro. “My parents neglected me my whole life. As a kid, I used to steal stuff from shops. The adrenaline of not getting caught was electrifying. But deep inside me, I hoped I did get caught so my parents would notice me.”

Well, that’s some confession.

“But you’ re a Bancroft. Why would you need to steal?” I inquire, recognizing the significance of his surname.

“It was for the thrill and the attention which I never received,” Jack explains, his tone tinged with a hint of regret.

“Is that a famous name in England?” Eve asks, her curiosity piqued.

“In most of Europe,” I reply, offering a brief explanation. I pause, waiting to see if Jack wants to elaborate further, but he seems lost in his own thoughts as he zones out of this discussion. His distant stare suggests he's retreated to a place far removed from our current discussion, perhaps even from this planet altogether.

“But not in England?” Eve asks, confused.

“His mother is a blood relative of the Romanovs, the last royal family of Russia, and his grandfather is related to the Rothchild family,” I explain.

Until Hawthornes, my life never crossed his regardless of the fact that we’re very distant relatives, most likely through marriage rather than genetics.

“And what about you?” Eve asks curiously. There’s something very genuine about her question and one I shouldn’t answer.

I can feel my pulse quicken, my palms growing clammy. What could I possibly confess that wouldn't make me seem like even more of a loser? But before I can muster the courage to speak, the Astro’s eyes lock onto mine, a knowing glint shining in the fire's glow.

"Well, buddy," he drawls, "why don't you go next? Got any juicy confessions for us?"

I feel a flush of anger rising in my chest, but I swallow it down, plastering on a fake smile instead. "Nah, I'm good," I mutter, hoping he'll drop it.

But he doesn't. He leans in closer, that smirk still firmly in place. "Oh, come on, don't be shy. We're all friends here."

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, waiting expectantly. My mind races, searching for something, anything to say that won't expose me for the pathetic creep I am. And then, in a moment of desperation, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.