Summer's POV
The storm passed, but the internet storm was just beginning.
By sunrise, the episode teaser was already online. Title in bold:
"Ethan and Summer: Trapped Together in the Rain."
The thumbnail?
A shot of him giving her his jacket.
Of course.
Summer groaned when the crew showed her the clip. "Oh great. I'm officially the lead actress in a romantic disaster movie."
Ethan leaned over her shoulder, smirking. "You look good in it."
"I look cold in it."
"Dramatic, mysterious, emotionally complex…" he teased.
"Keep talking and I'll throw you back into the storm."
But even as she rolled her eyes, she couldn't help noticing how close he stood—how the sunlight caught his hair, how calm he looked compared to the chaos around them.
The real problem wasn't that the cameras caught everything.
The problem was that she remembered how it felt—his jacket around her, his voice in the dark, the warmth of being not entirely alone.
---
Ethan's POV
The crew spent the morning fixing broken tents and damaged cameras.
Ethan found himself repairing a makeshift table while Summer arranged firewood.
Every so often, their eyes met across the sand. Neither looked away fast enough.
When the host approached with a grin, Ethan already knew trouble was coming.
"So, how was your romantic cave retreat?" the host asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Summer nearly dropped the wood. "It wasn't romantic!"
Ethan calmly tied another knot. "It was survival."
The host winked. "Sure. Survival with excellent lighting and natural tension."
The crew laughed. Summer turned red. "I swear I will bury myself in the sand."
Ethan chuckled. "Too late, we're trending again."
He wasn't kidding. Later that day, one of the producers showed them the top comment section:
> "That cave scene saved my life."
"If they don't kiss by episode 20, I'm rioting."
"#AfterTheRain — we're all invested now."
Summer stared at the screen, horrified. "They named the episode after us?"
"Technically after the storm," Ethan said.
She glared. "They meant us."
He grinned. "I don't mind."
"Of course you don't. You love attention."
"Only yours."
She froze, caught off guard by how easily he said it—like breathing.
For once, she had no witty comeback.
---
Summer's POV
That night, when the crew finally rested, the two of them ended up sitting by the fire again.
The air was cool, the sky a smear of stars.
Ethan poked at the flames with a stick. "You ever think about what happens after this show?"
She shrugged. "We'll go home, do interviews, pretend we're not traumatized by mosquitoes."
"I meant… between us."
Her pulse stuttered. "Oh."
He smiled faintly. "Not trying to pressure you. Just—wondering if you'd ever want to grab coffee. You know. When we're not being filmed by drones."
Summer laughed softly. "Coffee sounds safer than another cave."
"So that's a yes?"
"It's a maybe."
"I'll take it."
Silence fell again, but it wasn't awkward.
Just comfortable, warm—the kind of quiet that feels like something real starting to form.
---
Ethan's POV
He watched her trace patterns in the sand with a stick, hair falling loose around her face.
"Hey," he said softly. "Remember when you told me I was impossible?"
"Yeah. Still true."
"I think we're both impossible."
She smiled. "Guess that's why it works."
He wanted to say more—something about how being trapped on this island with her felt like the best accident of his life.
But instead, he just said, "Good night, Summer."
She looked up, eyes catching the firelight. "Good night, Ethan."
For a second, the whole world felt quiet again—like the storm had washed everything clean, leaving only them.