“I’ve got it covered,” Jordan says. He glances at me, and then away, back at the traffic ahead. I roll down the window and let my hand trail out beside me. I’m remembering our morning climbing up Haleakala in his car, the air growing colder, me curled up in his sweatshirt. It feels like decades ago, and yet it’s here, right now. Sitting in the center console between us.
We arrive at a Mexican restaurant called El Cholo, situated between a gas station and a convenience store. Jordan parks in the lot and then motions for me to follow him through the heavy metal doors. Inside, the restaurant is expansive, but no one pays us any mind. A man comes up and claps Jordan on the back.
“Santiago,” Jordan says. “How are you?”
“It has been a long time,” Santiago says.
“Hey,” I cut in.
“This is Paige,” Jordan says, gesturing to me.
Santiago smiles warmly and pulls me in for a kiss on the cheek. “Beautiful,” he says. Jordan raises his eyebrows.
“She’s taken,” he says. There’s no irony in his tone.
“Too bad,” Santiago says. “But I have a perfect table for you. This way.” Santiago takes us through the main room to a booth in the back. “Guacamole on the way.”
“Thanks, man,” Jordan says.
“I take it you come here often?” I ask when Santiago dashes off.
“Once in a while,” Jordan says, his eyes on mine.
“So what’s good?” I ask, fumbling with the menu. I can feel my heartbeat under my T-shirt. The cotton is doing little to hide what’s going on inside me from being this close, thisalone, with Jordan.
“The green tamales,” Jordan says. “Just trust me on this one.”
Santiago returns with the promised guacamole, and I dive into the chip basket. Jordan gives me a smile. “Careful,” he says. “You’re going to choke. I’m not really in the mood to perform CPR.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I shake my head, remembering the day on Maui he rescued me from drowning in the ocean. I swam out too far, and he pulled me up, practically brought me back to life.
Jordan takes a sip of water. Why did I have to say that? Stupid.
“So how are you?” he asks. In the light I see his scar below his ear—a reminder of so many things. It seems to wink at me, like we’re in on some secret.
“Pretty good,” I say. “I mean, it’s weird, all of this.”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I’ll get used to it.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.” He unclips his sunglasses from where they hang off his shirt and sets them on the table.
I thread my napkin through my fingers. It feels like when I first met Jordan. How it was like pulling teeth, getting him to have a conversation. “How are you?” I ask.
“Good,” he says. “I’ve been seeing my sister a lot.”
“Oh yeah? How is she?”
Jordan laughs. It makes my body relax. “Starting high school,” he says.
“Yikes.”
“She knows if she dates before she’s thirty, I’ll ground her for life, though, so we’re all good.”
“Seems reasonable.”
