Sunburn

THREE

            Over the next few days, I had time to think about it.

Of course, when I said think about it, I actually meant replay the conversation with Owen in my head over and over until it drove me crazy. It probably wasn't the best course of action. For one thing, it didn't help that I couldn't remember our exact words, and therefore each new version came out differently. Was I as awkward as I recalled, or had that been him rubbing off on me? But then, thinking on it, maybe it hadn't been awkward at all. Could it have been a totally normal encounter that I was agonising over unnecessarily?

Realistically, it was probably that last one. But with so little to occupy me after the bustle of uni, and between shifts at the arcade, it only left time for my mind to wander.

However, all the thinking brought me to one conclusion: it didn't have to be like this. Sure, Owen and I left for uni on bad terms, but only in the heat of a breakup. Telling the guy you'd spent the best part of a great year with you wanted to cut things short was never going to be easy; I couldn't blame myself for that. So maybe I had to reach out and make the first move.

And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was always the more forward one, so how likely was it really that Owen would be the one to come back and patch things up? He was probably hiding out in his room right now, avoiding hitting the beach or any part of town for fear of seeing me. Maybe he was even reconsidering his offer to help Greg out, now that he knew I'd be down on the pier so much. I had to do something.

A few days passed before we saw each other again. When my first week drew to a close, and Friday arrived with some duller weather, it was on my way back from lunch that I noticed Owen on the arcade floor. He was on the prize counter, this time having donned the unflattering XXL scarlet polo forced on all front-of-house staff. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he fed a string of tickets into the counting machine, a kid on tiptoes at the counter eagerly waiting for the number. I watched as it flashed onscreen, and the kid started jumping excitedly on the spot, clearly delighted by what he saw. And, sure enough, Owen was soon handing over a Super Soaker unhooked from behind him.

The day had been a short one, and having got the worst of the work over with that morning, I was set to pack up my stuff and head out at a decent time for a Friday afternoon. And I had a plan.

As the kid with the Super Soaker went charging past, I weaved through the machines and headed towards the prize counter. Owen's head was down, fiddling with the counting machine, and he looked up only once I was a couple of feet away from the desk.

He looked half surprised to see me, but like he'd known it was going to happen sooner or later. "Sydney. Hey."

"Hey," I said. "Didn't know you were working today."

I felt like breathing a sigh of relief, if that wasn't so weird to do aloud. After our first encounter, making it through a sentence that didn't sound completely idiotic felt like an achievement, and I kind of wanted to pat myself on the back. Maybe it was possible to act like my usual self.

"Last minute call-in," Owen said. "It's not so bad, though. As it turns out, getting back behind this counter in this God awful shirt still feels like second nature."

I smiled. "Just like riding a bike, right?"

He laughed, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "Kind of, actually."

By this point, I was up against the counter, and I found myself leaning forward on it. A natural confidence had returned, leaving me to wonder why it had been so difficult last time. "So, I was thinking," I said, "we should catch up. We're both back in Walden, and the last time we spoke was, what? Three years ago? It's been ages."