Love Bait

46| Don't forget me

Every second leading up to Jordan's flight is spent together. It's terrifying to know that tonight he'll be on a plane to Chicago, but terrifying in a good way. My mom would say that sometimes a leap of faith is all you need, and maybe she's right. Maybe instead of worrying about the future, I need to trust that things will work out.

We spend the day exploring the island, starting with the turtle sanctuary, where Jordan insists on feeding the turtles one last time.

"I'm going to miss these little guys," he says, handing out the seaweed.

I smile as I watch him, finding it hard to believe that this is the same boy who'd turned up on the island a few months ago. The same boy who'd been terrified to feed the turtles the first time I'd brought him. The same boy I'd hated.  He looks up now, still smiling as the turtles nibble away.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, "I just never thought I'd see you so excited about turtles. It's cute."

"I'm a cute guy," he says.

Don't I know it.

We push on with our tour, cycling down the streets toward the ice cream shop. We get the usual before taking a seat on the bench outside overlooking the ocean. It's quiet at this time, most of the tourists having gone home before the hurricane hit, so it feels like old times.

We're quiet for a little while, falling into a comfortable silence as we finish our ice creams. The view before us is like something from a postcard: pristine white sands, turquoise waters, and a horizon lined with fishing boats.

"Look," Jordan says, grabbing my hand, and he points to a spot in the ocean with it. That's when I see the slight rippling of water, the fin of a dolphin as it bobs along the surface.

"Come on," I say. "We still have one last stop on our tour."

I take his hand and lead us back to our bikes, where we cycle the rest of the way to Mom's secret beach. Though ever since the fundraiser, it hasn't been so secret. There are a few familiar faces dotted around, and the kids that once played on the harbor are now splashing in the ocean, basking in the sun.

But I don't feel disappointed. Instead, I have that same feeling I'd get when I'd watch them on the dock, leaping from boat to boat. This sense of nostalgia that comes with watching others live your happiest moments. For so long I'd kept this beach to myself, afraid it would be spoiled by everyone else, but it's not spoiled at all.

It's even better.

"I'm not going in the ocean," Jordan warns. "I can't swim in my boxers in front of all of these kids."

"Well, it's a good job I got you a present."

He looks at me suspiciously. "What present?"

I pull from my bag a pair of trunks I'd bought last minute at the beach hut. He stares at the black material in horror before reluctantly taking them from my hands. "If you're going to live on the island," I say, "you need to get over your aversion to shorts."

He looks like he's about to argue before thinking better of it. "Fine," he says, "but you owe me."

I peel off my dress, folding it up before slipping it into my bag. "You can have anything you want."

His eyebrow arches as he takes in my body. The tiniest smile crosses his lips. "Anything?"

I ignore his suggestive tone and grab his hand, leading him over to the public bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, when he still hasn't appeared, I knock on the door. "Jordan, have you fallen into the toilet?"