She finds him at the public pool, with his scuba instructor.

They haven't spoken since Thursday night. After he did what he did, and she did what she did, she'd stared at him for a long moment.

We need to talk about this.

When she finally opened her mouth to speak, he'd placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. Then his finger had moved slowly to her temple and tapped it lightly, once, twice.

Just think about it.

He left as quietly as he'd come in.

They both took Friday off.

Now it's Saturday, and she's thought about it. She feels it's only fair to tell him before he leaves for Australia.

And so she walks into the pool building from the locker room, a towel around her hips, and takes a seat on the bleachers until she judges they're finished.

In his general excitement about his trip, Jim had signed up for scuba certification. He didn't want to travel half the globe and not see the Great Barrier Reef. A few days after paying his deposit, he'd realized what season it would be when he was in Australia. He nixed the reef-diving plans, but kept up the scuba lessons, Because you never know. Today had been his final indoor certification dive.

Soon, the instructor climbs from the pool and begins to pack his gear. Jim hasn't seen her, and dunks under the surface again.

She slips quietly into the water.

When she was younger, her father would toss pennies into the lake at her grandmother's house, and she and her sister would free-dive for them. She'd considered it a useless skill until now.

As she descends, equalizing the pressure in her ears in a series of pops and crackles, she watches him.

He's floating horizontally, his hands clasped loosely at his waist. His ankles are crossed. He appears to be looking at the pool floor. When she reaches him, she realizes his eyes are closed. He looks as though he's meditating.

She floats next to him, watching a slow but steady stream of small bubbles rise around his ears. They stop, and she sees his sides expand, and then the bubbles reappear.

Her lungs begin to burn.

She doesn't want to startle him, so she stirs the water next to him lightly. She gradually increases the force of her strokes until he feels the current against his skin and looks over. He's startled anyway.

He moves quickly into an upright kneeling position, his eyes wide. He points up with his thumb, but she shakes her head.

Pats her lips with her fingers and indicates his regulator.

Air.

He hesitates only a moment.

He touches his mask with index and middle finger, spread over his eyes.

Watch.

He takes the regulator from his mouth. Holding her eyes, he puts it back in, and forces a large breath out through it, then breathes in and out, in and out. He signals again.

OK?

She nods and signals back. OK.

He takes a breath, then takes the regulator from his mouth again and hands it to her. She fits her lips tightly over it and uses the last of her air to force the water out of it. It clicks as she breathes in, then out.

He taps his goggles again - watch - then points to the slow stream of bubbles slipping from the side of his mouth. He give her a signal that seems to say, When you're ready, and clasps his hands loosely again, relaxed.

She nods, and takes a big breath. Water touches her teeth when she removes the regulator, but then she's letting small bubbles slip out in a steady flow, and they begin to buddy-breath smoothly.

He's watching her intently, trying to read her eyes. She holds his gaze a moment longer, then reaches for his right hand with her left. She twines her fingers into his and squeezes.

He squeezes back.

She waits.

It doesn't take long. Until he notices, she takes in the tiny bubbles clinging to the hair at his temples and wonders what it will look like when it goes grey there. She gathers what she can about his chest where it isn't covered by his vest. Watches the pulse in his neck, the movement in his throat as he swallows.

Suddenly, he stiffens and looks down at the hand he's holding.

He brings it up, staring, and brushes his other fingers lightly over her ring finger.

It's bare.

He looks up at her quickly.

Slowly, she smiles around the regulator and winks.

He exhales what looks like all of his air and then he's pulling her to the surface. When they break, she releases the regulator. He takes off his mask and weight belt, setting them on the edge of the pool, never taking his eyes from hers. Next, he unclasps his vest, and slips the tanks from his shoulders. They float behind him, forgotten.

His hands rise from the water, dripping, to smooth her hair from her face, her neck. They settle under her jaw, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, his eyes moving between hers.

Really?

His legs are moving in a slow, smooth scissor, keeping her afloat. She brings her hands to his ribs, feels the muscle contract under her fingers.

Yes.

He exhales again and pulls her close until all she can see is the way his eyelashes are matted together. When the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles, she knows he's smiling.

His lips are cool and wet, and taste of chlorine and promise.