27| Hot and cold

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The turtle sanctuary is packed with tourists and locals alike, all searching for the next clue. It's nice in a way, to see us together like this, like we're finally coming together to help the island instead of hindering it.

Jordan takes my hand in his, almost instinctively. For about half a second, I think about letting go, but I convince myself this hand-holding is necessary so as not to lose one another in the busy crowd, so instead, I squeeze tighter.

We push through the crowd to get to the bridge, where a note is tucked between the rocks of one of the turtle pools. Jordan leans down to pick it up at the same time I do, causing our fingers to brush. A current runs through me, charging my insides with electricity. After a brief pause, he indicates for me to go first. 

The note leads us to a surf hut on the main beach, and the one after that to the souvenir shop. We end up cycling all over the island for clues, and I have to admit, I forget that I'm protecting myself from heartache. I forget that this thing could crash and burn. I'm too busy enjoying his company.

"Let's stop for ice cream," I say, grabbing his hand. I lead him over to the ice cream shop, where he towers over the counter and takes forever to decide on a flavor. A girl who used to go to my school, Kady, is waiting on us, staring at Jordan as though he's some kind of celebrity.

I have to admit, he looks good standing here, like he should be perched on the side of a motorcycle in some fashion magazine. He's got that smoldering look, the type of guy that can make any girl stop and stare, and they do.

Kady is loving his indecision. She takes him through each flavor, smiling and giggling like she's back in middle school. She's always been a flirt, but now she's practically undressing him with his eyes, and we're in public.

"Which would you reccommend?" Jordan asks.

"For the love of god," I say. "Just pick a flavor."

The pair of them look at me. Jordan raises an eyebrow at my outburst, then turns back to Kady. "I'll take one chocolate scoop, one banana," he says. My expression must convey my horror, because he says, "what?"

"Banana has got to be the worst ice cream flavor known to man. Tastes like a sock."

"Eaten many socks, have you?"

I'm about to smile back, but Kady hands Jordan his ice cream extra slow, letting her fingers brush his. "There you go," she says, smiling. "Did you want anything else?"

"No," I say, "we're good."

"Just let me know if you do," she says, looking at Jordan, and I practically have to grab his arm and haul him out of the ice cream shop.

We head toward the beach in silence, taking a seat on the bench.  "She seems nice," he says.

"Yeah, nice."

He looks over, mid-ice cream lick. "Are you jealous, Evvy?"

"Why would I be jealous?"

He shrugs and continues with his ice cream. "You're used to having me all to yourself. It's only natural." He grins now, those adorable dimples out on full display, and I inwardly melt. The harder I try to forget that I like him, the more I'm reminded of how much I do.

"You've got ice cream on your nose," I say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Get it for me."

I'm about to tell him to get it himself, but I just can't resist. It's almost instinctive how I lean in, brushing the tip of his nose with my lips. He tenses slightly, then tilts his head so that his lips hover right before mine. Another millimeter, we'll be kissing. He leans in closer, but I jump to my feet, finishing off the last of my ice cream before pulling out our next clue.

"When sirens call, brave men fall," I say.

Jordan's eyes darken as he regards me. He's confused by my mood, I can tell, but even though we need to talk, I don't want to right now; I just want to get through the day.

"The hospital," he says.

"No," I say, "I know where this is. Come on."

We're back on our bikes again, cycling to the outskirts of the island. There's a small cove near one of the beaches that you can only access by climbing the rocks, and inside is a statue of a mermaid. The story goes that she fell for a sailor, who introduced her to a witch on the island. The witch granted her freedom from the tail she felt confined to but under one condition: if she didn't fall pregnant within the next year, she'd turn completely to stone.

"That's weird," Jordan says as I relay this. We're almost over the rocks, the cove just a few feet away. It's completely empty, so either the others came when we stopped to have our ice cream or they haven't made it yet.

"That's not the worst part," I say.

His hand is wrapped around mine, guiding me over the slippier rocks, and we pop out next to the empty cove. Inside it is dark, but it's easy to make out the shape of the mermaid statue standing before us. I close the remaining distance, staring up at her. Etched on her face are a thousand different emotions, all painful. All broken.

"The sailor got called to sea five months in," I say, "leaving him with a choice: he could stay with her and try for a baby, or he could follow his duty and head back to sea. He chose duty in the end, promising her he'd be back before the year ended, but he wasn't. When he finally returned, he came to this cove and found her like this."

Jordan moves behind me, his body warm and solid. I lean back slightly, unable to help it, and he pulls me into his chest.  "It must have been torture," I say quietly, "waiting on someone like that. I always wonder when it finally hit her, when that moment was that she finally realized he wasn't coming back."

Jordan's voice is low as he leans into my ear. "It's just a story, Evvy."

"Maybe," I say, pulling away, "but the point still stands. Nothing good comes from leaving." Slowly, I face him, just about able to make out his face in the shadows.

His eyes are dark as he takes a step forward. "Sometimes there isn't a choice."

"There's always a choice," I say. I'm staring up at him, heart pounding, anger forming around it like a shield, determined to protect me. I've felt so unsettled all day that it's impossible to continue to pretend that I'm fine; I've never been a good actress.

"What's going on here?" he asks.

"Nothing. Let's just go." I turn to leave, but he blocks my way. 

"You've been running hot and cold all day," he says. "Talk to me, Evvy."

"Talk to you about what? How all of this is pointless? How if this night doesn't raise enough money, you're selling the cafe and heading back to Chicago?"

"And what," he says, grabbing my arm. He pulls me forward, into his chest, forcing me to look at him. "You think that's it? I'll move back to Chicago and we'll just never talk again?"

"Yeah," I say, "I do, because I doubt I'll forgive you for selling, even if I want to."

"It's not my fault."

"I know that," I say. "I know that, okay? I wish I could be this levelheaded, rational person who knows your hands are tied, but I can't help how I feel, Jordan. The cafe means everything to me, it's the last connection I have to my mom, and if you sell it, that's all I'm ever going to think about. I know that makes me a terrible person, but I can't help it, and you deserve better than that."

I hold my breath in the silence that follows. He's pissed, I can tell, but he's clenching his jaw like he's trying to keep it in. "So, that's what you want," he says. His voice is low, dangerous, and I hate that my first instinct is to pull him in closer. "Tonight doesn't make enough money, and whatever this is, is done?" I don't answer, which I suppose is answer enough. He shakes his head and takes a step back, eyes almost black. "Noted," he says, and then he turns and walks out, leaving me standing alone in the cove.

A/N

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