I didn’t need Levi to tell me that this town was special. There were many things you couldn’t find elsewhere. Trees that seemed to whisper lost lovers’ names when the wind blew just right, a beach that swallowed flip-flops and gave back books. Memories containing whole worlds.

That was what Levi forgot. Oar’s Rest held on to memories. Every first kiss, every last kiss. Every tragedy, every miracle. It was greedy for them. We’d talked about it before, but I didn’t think he realized that Oar’s Rest would hold on to him, too. The memories he left behind would be there in every grain of sand, in every wobbly plank on the pier, in every corner of my world. Places like Oar’s Rest were like that—they held on tight, tugged memories close, and gave life to the people who weren’t there anymore.

nineteen

The original Girl with Summertime in Her Eyes hung in the art center. The water-spattered sketch from almost three months ago now seemed like a distant memory. It was wild to think of how many people would view my likeness, brought to life by slashes of watercolor on sturdy white paper, framed in thin black plastic. Once Levi put it up on Instagram, that number would explode exponentially. He’d immortalized me. Not even Elodie had thought to do that before.

From across the room, Penny stood in front of her mosaic paintings, looking frustrated and embarrassed. Her parents were both animatedly snapping photos at dozens of angles. She said something to them that made them stop for a moment, but then Mrs. Wang went right back to taking pictures, and Penny threw her hands up and spun around.

Our eyes locked. An eternity seemed to hover. Just as I thought she was going to look through me, her face eased into a slow, hesitant smile. Warmth stole across my chest.

It was all the ice-breaking I needed. I pointed to her art, then gave her a thumbs-up. Each canvas depicted an animal from the Chinese zodiac. The dragon was her masterstroke, the ferocity in his face almost popping off the canvas. It must have taken her hours to get the azure-to-jade gradient just right, but she’d pulled it off.

Thank you, she mouthed back.

The moment lingered. Neither of us looked away. Maybe we were both scared that if we did, we’d never be this okay again. But one of us had to make the first move. We couldn’t hold still because we were scared of what might happen. Even if it had been for only a few seconds, the gap between us seemed a little less wide. It would be that way again. I had to trust that it would.

I was the first to look away. And, curiously, the warm feeling didn’t go away.