Sunburn

TWO

The morning went quicker than I expected. Even the first step – taking all the documents and papers out of the box and sorting them into date order – was time-consuming, and with the intensifying heat of the office I found myself breaking a sweat. Before long, an uncomfortable stickiness had settled on the back of my neck, and when I couldn't take it any longer I went in search of a fan that had been stashed under the desk somewhere. Surprisingly, it was easy to get lost in the mountain of work, and by the time my stomach let out its first growl of hunger I couldn't believe the time. The hours had slipped past, escaping my notice.

I got up shortly afterward, leaving the paperwork as it was, strewn across the computer keyboard and ruffling slightly in the breeze of the fan. The morning warmth had turned into another day of blazing sunshine, which hit me square in the face as soon as I emerged on the pier. I hadn't packed lunch, and with the intention to treat myself on the first day, headed toward the beach in pursuit of a fish and chip pit stop.

I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Walden fish and chips beat London by a landslide.

With the weekend drawing closer, the beach was even busier than yesterday, and the sounds of summer chaos swelled around me. Kids on the shore screeched as cold water hit their shins, mothers called after swimmers who had ventured too far out, and seagulls circled on a search for unattended food. I headed off the pier and onto the beach, feeling pebbles crunching underfoot where I wished I could feel sand. The chip shop was in view, now just a short walk away, but with such a thick crowd in between it felt like the trek of a lifetime.

The walk took me past the lifeguard's hut, a red-and-yellow flag rippling in the breeze beside it. I spared a glance for the lifeguard on duty, a strikingly pretty dark-skinned girl, perched atop the chair and looking out across the beach. She wasn't one I recognised – but then, almost suddenly, I remembered I'd been away for three years.

By the time I returned to the office, cardboard box of cod and chips in hand, the walk in the sun had left me sweaty and uncomfortable. I'd spared no thought for sun cream this morning, assuming I'd be stuck inside all day, but now I was wondering whether my extra-pale sun-intolerant skin would sizzle on the way home. In an attempt to cool off, I positioned myself directly in front of the fan, squinting at my bare arms to see if they showed any signs of burning.

And it was at this moment that the door opened.

"Hey, do you mind if I—oh."

I had my back to it, facing the fan instead, but the single surprised word had me freezing on the spot. Like some kind of reflex, my heart skipped a beat. That voice... that familiar voice, one I hadn't heard in so long. It couldn't be.

I spun around, half-afraid of what I was going to find. When my eyes locked with the person standing in the doorway, my fear was confirmed.

"Sydney?"

My own voice escaped without real thought, a breathy word that came all at once. "Owen."

Saying it aloud had a kind of permanence that scared me, like this marked the moment it became real – even though he was quite clearly stood there, and a word out of my mouth hadn't changed that. There was no mistaking the overgrown mop of brown curls, the thick frames that meant he could never wear sunglasses, the signature polo never replaced by any other kind of shirt. Much like the rest of Walden, it didn't look like Owen had changed in three years.

"Sydney." He'd already said this once, but with awkwardness now stifling us instead of the heat, he seemed to forget. "I, uh... didn't expect to find you here."