Chapter Two — Two Coffees

They walked together that afternoon. At first, it was simply because James wanted to find the path. Then it was because Molly wanted to show him the best view of the lake. Then it was because neither of them could think of a good enough reason to say goodbye.

They talked about everything. Their childhoods, their favourite foods, the places they dreamed of visiting and the tiny things that made them happy. Molly told him that she loved rainy mornings, old photographs and the smell of freshly baked bread. James told her that he loved Christmas, terrible romantic films and the sound of someone laughing when they were trying desperately not to.

"That's oddly specific," Molly said.

"Not anymore."

She looked at him.

"What does that mean?"

James smiled. "It means I think I've just found my favourite laugh."

Molly rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop smiling. She had known him for only a few hours, yet there was something strangely familiar about him, as though some part of her had been waiting for exactly this conversation.

The following morning, James was waiting beside the lake with two coffees. Molly smiled when she saw him, although she tried to pretend she wasn't pleased.

"You came back."

"I said I'd see you tomorrow."

"I thought you were being polite."

"I was being serious."

He handed her the coffee. She looked down and realised that he had remembered exactly how she liked it. Nobody had ever made remembering small things seem so important.

They walked along the lake together, their shoulders occasionally touching. Neither moved away. By the end of the morning, they had already begun making plans for the following day, then the following weekend, and then, somehow, the following year.

It was ridiculous. It was far too soon. It was completely irrational. Neither of them cared.