My first thought as I look through the window is hell. She looks as beautiful as I remember.

Separated by a pane of glass, I’m safe to stare as she leans over the counter, handing coffee to a customer with a bright smile that stirs something deep in my chest.

My stomach flips. I sigh at the all-too-familiar feeling. It’s old, but like a dusty coat unearthed from the back of a closet, it tickles a memory, and fits just the same. No matter how many years I’ve been away, the sight of her still gives me butterflies. Irritating, unwelcome butterflies.

She’s just as beautiful, but that doesn’t mean she looks the same. Her hair is cut shorter, falling around her ears to kiss her cheeks. The red is shot through with strands of copper, lightened by days in the sunshine. There’s a new smattering of freckles on her cheeks and across her shoulders, visible in her sleeveless top.

She isn’t wearing a ring.

I hate myself for noticing. Swearing under my breath, I turn away from the window and lean back with a sigh. The shade of the awning offers me some protection from the sun, but not from the jitters making my leg bounce.

I have to go in. As much as I love, no, loathe the idea of going into that coffee shop, with its cinnamon sweet smells and warm steam spilling out the door…I know I must. To come back to town after so long and not say hello would be far more incriminating that if I walked in there now on wobbly knees. I might as well stick a sign on my head that reads ‘Hi, I’m back, and I’m still not over it.’

I let out a harsh breath and sink against the windowsill. Promise myself I’ll go inside in a minute.

It’s been a very long time.

A seagull lands on the fence near me, pinning me with a beady eye. It looks me over critically.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Could I get away with it? Just pretend I’ve forgotten her?”

The bird doesn’t seem interested in my dilemma. The moment it realizes I don’t have any chips or sandwiches on me, it leaves me to my misery. Even the birds are bored of my dithering.

This is pointless.

I’ve taken three strides away from the shop when the door behind me opens with the tinkling of a bell. I hunch my shoulders on instinct. My heart leaps into my throat, anticipating the worst.

A scuffle of feet on the pavement, and then-

“Sam?”

It isn’t the voice I was expecting, but that doesn’t make it any less familiar. I stop. Turning, I come face to face with Toby. His eyebrows are nearly at his hairline, and there is an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, apparently forgotten.

“Is that really you?”

I can’t help it. A wry smile splits my face.

“Those will kill you, you know,” I say, nodding to his cigarette. His eyes widen. The butt is tossed into a tray and suddenly he is striding towards me. He hauls me into an embrace, topped with a rib-crushing squeeze and a clap on my shoulders.

“I thought I’d seen a ghost!” he exclaimed. When he pulls back, he is grinning. There are new lines on his face. He looks older than I remember, older than I expected him to, and I wonder if his students are running him ragged. There’s no weariness to him though. That youthful glint is still there, but tempered now by something else. Experience, maybe. Heaven knows I’ve had plenty of it myself in the last few years.

I guess I’ve gotten older too.

He looks so happy to see me that I feel a sudden pang of guilt pushing on my chest bone.

“I meant to call you,” I say weakly.

He snorts. “No you didn’t.” I flounder for something to say, but my old friend simply claps me on the arm. “It’s fine. Life gets like that sometimes.”

His eyes run over me, sharp with curiosity. He always did have an uncanny ability to assess something to its core. There’s a reason he became a scientist. Feeling that inspecting gaze on me now, I realize I haven’t missed it one bit.

“Although if you’re here, I’m guessing life has stirred up for you again. What are you doing lurking out here?” His eyes flash. “Mary works here, you know.”

“I know.” Damn. I should have played dumb. His lips twitched, which spells trouble for me. Toby never knew when to leave well enough alone.

Sure enough, his smile turns sharp. Like a piranha’s.

“You should come in. Say hello.”

I sigh. “I’m working up to it.”

Toby hums. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he fishes a fresh cigarette out of the pack in his jacket. He produces a lighter from his jeans pocket and holds it up, cupping his hands to keep the flame from being blown out by the wind. The breeze is strong today, bringing with it the smell of the sea and the sound of gulls as they circle above. It strikes me with a fierce nostalgia.

I can’t help the side-eye I give him. He doesn’t miss it and his lips curl up into a smirk. The lighter clicks off.

“Something to say, Mister Fireman?”

“I thought you quit.”

“Six years ago, I had.” Toby takes a long drag. Smoke billows from his lips and my nose wrinkles. “A lot has changed since you left.”

I glance through the window. He follows my gaze, both of us watching as Mary puts a hand on a customer’s shoulder. She clearly makes a joke and the man at her table throws his head back with laughter that I can’t hear through the glass.

“Yeah,” Toby says, answering a question I didn’t ask. “She’s changed too.”

I hesitate. “How’s Adam?”

Another puff. At least he exhales the smoke away from me. When we were younger, he might have aimed it my way just to be annoying. The last six years have taught him some grace, it seems. That, or we’re no longer close enough to pester each other in such a way.

“You want to know, you ask her,” he says with finality. I can see the way the surprise and glee of seeing me is starting to wear off. Beneath it is a thinly veiled accusation he doesn’t give voice to. But I hear it just the same.

        Why did you leave? Where did you go?

I fidget, waving smoke away from my face.

“I don’t want to bother her while she’s working,” I say. There’s little hope in my voice, and sure enough he shakes his head.

“Seriously? After all this time, you still don’t want to talk to her?”

It’s not about want. What I want is to storm the shop so fiercely that it knocks the little bell off the door sill.

Whatever shows on my face seems to soften Toby. He reluctantly gives in, leaning over to dab out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray. If I had to hazard a guess, he probably put it there himself, ready for him whenever he happened to visit.

I try to imagine having so much certainty that you’ll be welcome somewhere. My mind doesn’t stretch that far.

“Adam’s good,” Toby answers, despite what he said earlier. “It was his birthday recently, you know.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

He studies me, round glasses making his eyes look bigger.

“Maybe you’ll catch the next one.”

I don’t know what to make of that. I glance once more through the window, then sigh. Square my shoulders and lift my chin. Once more unto the breach, as they say.

“Alright then, give it to me,” I say, nodding towards the coffee shop door. “What am I in for if I go in there? If I’m going to get a plate chucked at my head, I want to be ready to duck.”

Toby snickers. He shakes his head, looking utterly bemused by me.

“Six years and you’re still exactly the same,” he says with a grin. “Come on then, you big lug- let’s find out.”

And before I can protest, there is an arm around my shoulders, slotting into place like the bars on a roller coaster ride. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. With that mischievous grin still in place Toby sweeps towards the entrance to the coffee shop, drawing me along with him. I’m caught up in his tide and with every step I feel the water rising higher over my head. The air escapes my lungs and absolutely refuses to return.

Then we’re inside.

The bell above the door chimes loud enough to make me wince. A firm shove pushes me across the threshold and into the shop. I stumble, legs locking. It feels impossible to take even a single step further. Vampires can’t enter a dwelling without an invitation. What happens when they’re forced inside? I imagine it must feel something like this, caught on the threshold. Compelled forward by their cravings. Held back by their nature.

I swear I’ll never be able to move from this spot. In fact I live here now. Redirecting my post will be a pain.

“Just a moment!” chimes a honeyed voice. The sound of it sends my heart thumping in my chest. All of the blood that had drained from my face rushes right back upwards to flush my cheeks. My lungs inflate. My feet unstick from the ground.

Toby bumps my shoulder with his as he sweeps past me, having no trouble at all crossing the doorway.

“Stop acting weird,” he shoots under his breath. Great, I think sourly. Thanks for that, Toby.

I trail behind as he approaches the counter. There is a little bell for service next to a half-full tip jar. I’m not sure why the bell’s there- the shop is small. There’s no way to miss a customer standing there.

Nevertheless, Toby rings it with glee. Instantly the woman behind the counter whirls to face them, red curls flaring out like a dancer’s skirt. She claps her hand down on the bell to silence it.

“Stop it, you animal,” she chides. “I’m busy, what do you want?”

Toby grins. “I brought you something.”

“What is it?” She smiles, and even though it isn’t directed at me, my heart still lurches. It hurts even more than it did outside. That doesn’t bode well for me.

“You never bring me things,” Mary says. “You spoil Adam so much you have nothing left over for your little sister.”

“Like you’d let me spoil you,” snorts Toby. “But you’ll like this one.”

She rolls her eyes and leans her elbows on the counter. “Alright then, lay it on me.”

Toby steps to the side with a flourish. I find myself no longer shielded behind his back, but out in the open. Exposed and disarmed in the center of the coffee shop, bundled up inside the smell of warm pastries. It does nothing to settle my racing heart.

Mary shoots upright. The sweet smile falls from her face. If a heart could sigh, mine does. For a moment, nobody speaks. I can feel eyes on me and know we’ve caught the attention of some of the café-goers. That’s the thing about small beach towns like this one- nobody knows how to mind their own business.

I’m not here for them, though.

Painted red lips part. I watch as Mary’s falters, before her lips finally shape the word.

“…Sam?” Her voice is so soft.

I offer a rueful smile.

“Hi Mary.”