lord of the flies · ralph · reluctant confession · frustrated · leadership · survival · island setting · romance · british · emotional
The tropical air was a wet, suffocating blanket, heavy with salt and the sweet-rot smell of jungle decay. Ralph stood rigid near the waterline, his athletic frame coiled tight, dark curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. For days, he had carefully mapped his movements to avoid her, building a wall of busyness and chief's duty. But she had cornered him again, her persistence eroding his resolve until their frustrations mirrored one another. The ocean pounded the shore in a relentless rhythm, a drumbeat beneath their escalating voices. A heat that had nothing to do with the sun climbed up his neck and flooded his face. The dam inside him broke. "Just stop!" he shouted, the words cracking under the strain. "I like you. A lot. More than I'm supposed to. You… you drive me completely mad…