ith my new revelation comes a thousand different thoughts. Questions. Worries. Liking Jordan is completely and utterly foolish, because what if I do all of this, and he still decides to sell?

I wouldn't be able to forgive him for it. It would just lead to heartache–to misery. And what if he didn't sell? What if, by some miracle, everything worked out and he actually liked me back? I'll be going to college soon, and he'll be going back to Chicago. We were doomed before we ever got started. God, how did one impromptu kiss unravel me like this?

I spend the morning convincing myself that yesterday was an anomoly. I was lost in the moment, enjoying my favorite spot on the island, and I got caught up in it all. Jordan could have been anyone and I'd have probably felt the same.

"How's it going with the plan?" Lexi asks over her cup of coffee. She's busy looking over her notes for her interview, but every so often, she looks up to engage in conversation. She's one of those people who hate the silence, even if it's a comfortable one.

"I'm not sure yet," I admit. "He's not really the kind of guy to talk about what he's thinking. I have no idea if it's working yet or not. I guess we'll see."

She nods and is about to get back to her notes when she says, "Just don't get your hopes up, Ev, okay?"

"I won't," I say, but it's too late. I already have.

After breakfast, I head to The Big Fish Cafe for a while. It feels weird being here as a customer instead of an employee, but it's also kind of nice. I don't have to worry about pleasing customers or holes in the ceiling; I can just enjoy the view.

Lina comes and serves me a coffee and some waffles, and I stare out of the window at the children jumping off the boats as I eat. They squeal and laugh, lost in the moment the way children often are, and it brings a wistful smile to my face.

This right here is something they'll hold onto for the rest of their lives. When they're older, they'll look back to this moment and remember how carefree they once were, how little responsibility they had. They'll think of this moment, and they'll want to go back, the way I often do.

"Hey," says a deep voice I'd recognize anywhere. I turn away from the window to look up at Jordan, who's grinning at me. His smile does something to my insides, and despite my best efforts, I end up smiling back.

"Hey," I say. I glance at the ceiling in the corner to see the hole has been patched up. "Looks like you've been busy. This place almost looks as good as new." Which means, soon, he'll be ready to sell.

Jordan shrugs, his expression unreadable. "Are you here to kidnap me for another tour?"

I wasn't, but now that he mentions it. "If you're free."

His eyes scan my face, and I love the little smile that plays on his lips. I quickly pay the bill and we both grab our bikes, riding to the other side of the island.

After taking him down an old beaten path, we park our bikes outside of Turtle Bay, the turtle santucary I've been meaning to show him. Hanging next to the colorful archway is a big turtle cartoon, and Jordan looks up at it with an eyebrow raised, clearly skeptical.

I laugh and go to grab his arm, but he moves at the same time, so I end up grabbing his hand, instead. We both look down, but instead of pulling away like I expected, he clenches his fingers around mine.

I swallow hard, hating the way my heart jumps in my chest. After a second or two, I pull him through the archway and through the little office, onto the other side. The turtle sanctuary is out back, surrounded by tropical gardens. Several turquoise pools link to each other, accessible by arching wooden bridges that connect them together.

I pull Jordan along one of the bridges, and we peer over the railing at the turtles below. "I've never seen a turtle in real life," Jordan says.

I turn to him, shocked. "Really? Never?" The thought seems absurd because I've seen too many to count. It almost saddens me that he's never got to experience these types of things–I feel like he's missed out. "The injured ones come here to be rehabilitated."

Jordan frowns, his fingers still linked with mine. I love how warm and solid they feel; I don't want him to let go. "How do they get injured?" he asks. He doesn't look up as he says it, he's utterly absorbed in studying the water, following the turtles' every move.

"Different reasons. The main ones are usually predators, or eating too much plastic, or getting caught in plastic. You find that the more tourists that come, the more affected the wildlife are." I know I'm sounding preachy, but I'm running out of time to get through to him. If I'm going to save the cafe, I need him to care about this island. "This place cares for them as best as they can, but a lot of these animals don't make it."

Jordan turns slightly, his eyes meeting mine. They've softened a little, and I can tell he's thinking this over, that my plan is finally working. He cares–I just don't know if he'll care enough.

One of the trainers walks up beside us with a bucket of seaweed. "It's feeding time in a minute," she says, looking between us. "You guys want to feed them?"

Jordan looks alarmed at the thought of feeding a turtle, and I can't help but laugh again. He's such a city boy, sometimes.

"They're not going to bite you," I say, and I pressure him to grab a handful of seaweed before we walk down the bridge, over to the lower pool. We both kneel closer. I slowly guide his hand with mine. "Just be nice and still. They'll come to you."

Jordan smiles a little. We're kneeling so close, that if I were to lean in a little, our noses would be touching. "Why are you smiling?" I ask, looking at his lips.

"You're definitely some kind of mermaid," he says. Now he's looking at my lips.

It feels like he's about to kiss me, right here in the turtle sanctuary, but then a turtle comes along and nibbles at his hand, and he jerks his head away from me. I laugh at the horror on his face, trying to keep him still. The turtle demolishes all of the seaweed, looks around like it's waiting for more, then disappears back under the water. When I look back at Jordan, I see he is looking at me.

My stomach flips, and I get to my feet before I do something stupid. We walk around for a little while longer, making small talk about our favorite movies or food. I try to steer the conversation to what his home life is like, and he makes the odd comment here or there about his mom, but otherwise, he remains a closed book.

Eventually, when it starts to grow dark, we get back on our bikes and head back to the other side of the island, enjoying the subtle sounds of wildlife. The weather has held up until now, but within minutes, the sky has turned gray and the first few drops of rain start to splatter, followed by thousands more.

"You can't cycle back in this," Jordan shouts over the sound of thunder. "C'mon, the Inn I'm staying at is just down the road."

A crack of lightning lights up the sky, and I see Jordan flinch. We cycle as fast as we can toward the inn, and before I can question whether this is such a good idea, we're parking up and running inside, desperate to get out of the storm.

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