“Jared just left for the ferry. He should be taking off in, oh”—he looked at his watch—“fifteen minutes. The applications are in the back. If you’d like to sit in the—”

But Ema and I were already back outside and sprinting toward the ferry. I was surprised at how Ema was able to keep up with me, but then again, determination counts for a lot.

Still, there wasn’t much time. I did a quick calculation and realized that we wouldn’t arrive before Jared boarded the next ferry.

Now what?

Then the answer came to me: I could break more laws.

“This way,” I said.

“What?”

The summer population here was under two thousand people. That meant there wasn’t much crime or need for law enforcement. People didn’t lock up their homes.

Or their bikes.

We found two in a driveway on the right. Ema and I hopped on and started peddling. Three minutes later, we spotted Jared sitting on a bench by the dock. When he saw us coming, Jared Lowell shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and said, “You again.”

“Yep. And look who I brought.”

I turned and looked at Ema. I couldn’t help it. Part of me thought that this was probably not how Ema wanted to look the first time she saw her “great love” in person—sweaty, out of breath, disheveled—and a really small pathetic part of me took some small pleasure in that.

Ema looked at him. He looked at her. I took a step back.

“Hey,” Ema said to him.

“Hey,” Jared said back.

Ema seemed to be studying him. He started to shift under her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Jared Lowell said.

Ema did not reply. She tilted her head, looking at him as though he were some kind of odd experiment.

“I should have told you,” he said.

“Told me what?”

“Excuse me?”

“What were you going to tell me, Jared?”

His feet shifted again. The ferry had arrived. The passengers began to disembark. “You know. I mean, I should have told you that I didn’t want to e-mail you anymore.”

I expected her to be hurt or crushed, but it was as though seeing him in person had given her an odd strength. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah,” Ema said, “start with that.”

“I don’t know.” Jared gave a big shrug. “It was wrong. Your friend here and I talked about it. I was going to get in touch.”

“So you wanted to, what, break up with me?”

He looked so uncomfortable, even I felt bad for him. “Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“Just tell me, Jared. What’s your favorite color?”

Jared opened his mouth, but no words came out. Ema looked at me and shook her head.

“What?” I said.

“It’s not him.”