Things We Know by Heart by Jessi Kirby

all the time, so it doesn’t really mean much. Until later, when it does.”
    â€œYou believe that?” I ask, thinking that salt water surely didn’t cure his heart.
    He looks at me like it’s a silly question. “Yep. It’s good for the soul.”
    A small wave breaks over the pebbles at our feet, and the coolness of the water sends a shiver up my legs.
    â€œCome on,” he says with a smile. “It’s easier if you don’t think about it. Just dive in.”
    He’s barely finished saying the words before he releases my hand, takes two running steps, and dives under the next wave. He comes up with a loud whoop, smiling and shaking the water from his hair, and seeing him in that moment, with the ocean and the sun and sky shining around him, I feel it again. The distinct pull of possibility. And I follow it. I dive in without thinking about anything else.
    We swim for who knows how long, alternately ducking under waves and trying to catch them. Being in the water takes me out of my head, back into the moment when guilt can’t catch me. Not even when a wave knocks me into Colton and he does. He catches me with one arm and then the other before either one of us really realizes, and then we’re eye to eye in the water, so close I can see each little water droplet on his face. It steals my breath away, the thought I have right then.
    What if we had more than a day?

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Â 
    â€œEvery heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.”
    â€”Plato
    BY THE TIME we climb the stairs back to where our cars are parked, the sun hangs low in the sky, spilling a golden path from the slick wet sand all the way to the horizon. I can feel the tingle of salt and sunburn on my skin as I stretch to help Colton load the kayak back onto the bus’s roof racks. He cinches the straps down tight, stows the paddles in the back, and slides the door shut, but doesn’t make a move to go anywhere once it’s closed. Instead he leans against the side of the bus, and so do I. We linger there like that, watching the sun on the water and letting the heat from the metal sink into our backs. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am—that despite our agreement to keep things simple, it feels like we’ve shared more than just a day.
    â€œYou know,” Colton says, eyes watching the sun sink lower in the sky, “the day’s not technically over yet.” He turns to me, that hopeful look on his face again. “Are you hungry? I know this great taco place. We could eat, andthen maybe—” He stops when I shake my head.
    â€œI can’t. It’s Sunday.”
    â€œYou don’t eat tacos on Sunday?”
    I manage, barely, to match his straight face. “No. Only on Tuesdays.”
    We both laugh a little, but it fades quickly because we both know what’s coming.
    â€œI really do wish I could stay,” I say softly. Honestly. “Sundays are family dinner, though, and my mom’s a little crazy about me being there.”
    â€œI know how that goes,” Colton says, trying and failing not to sound disappointed. “You can’t skip out on that stuff. Family’s important.”
    When I look at him, he gives me a smile that makes me imagine, for the briefest of moments, inviting him. But then I imagine everything that would come along with that: introducing him, and questions, and him sitting in the spot at the table where Trent used to sit, and—
    I need to go now.
    â€œThank you so much, for today,” I say, trying to sound light, but it comes out abruptly. “It really was beautiful. Everything.”
    Colton’s smile fades the tiniest bit. “You’re welcome.”
    I push myself away from the bus, stand up straight. “I really should go.”
    â€œWait,” Colton says suddenly. Just like I did yesterday,just like he can’t help it any more than I could.
    His