2 - N O A H

By the time I get back to Mugs and Kisses with my car, it's already eight thirty. Which isn't horribly late, but in the winter, it gets dark really early. I hope Chance's parents won't be too angry or worried that he's been out this long, especially because they're completely new to the town.

I can't help but wonder if Chance does this a lot—getting lost, that is. Because even though he looked worried when he realized he didn't know where he was, he didn't panic, at least not like I would if I were to get lost in a strange new town. It almost looked like he'd grudgingly accepted the situation with some familiarity, almost as if it were inevitable.

I put the car in park and turn it off, waiting for a few seconds in silence after the lights on the dashboard fade before opening the door. The rain is still pouring down, splashing off the pavement and settling in the many potholes that dot the parking lot. The light shining out of the windows of the cafe bounces off the water, bending around the incessant raindrops.

The sign on the door of Mugs and Kisses has been flipped from open to closed, which confuses me a little bit since the shop doesn't normally close until nine. But when I open the door, I hear the sounds of Noah and Emma's conversation drifting around the corner. She must have closed up as soon as I left so she could talk to Chance in peace. I wouldn't put it past her, since she's always willing to bend her own rules as she sees fit. Though from the sound of it, it's almost solely Emma's conversation. Chance isn't really talking.

"—my family's Korean, not Japanese," she's saying enthusiastically as I walk around the corner to find Emma and Chance sitting across from each other at one of the tables. "But when we lived in Korea when I was younger, we'd go to Japan a lot. We always visited Osaka. Did you ever go there? We went to Dotonbori a lot."

"Nope."

I can see his foot wiggling awkwardly against the table, tapping relentlessly against the floor. He's also fiddling with his fingers, drawing random patterns on his arm. I can't figure out if he's horrendously bored, trying to keep himself awake, or both. His face doesn't give much away, and for some reason, that frustrates me more than it should. I really want to know what he's thinking.

"That's a pity. It was really awesome! We'd always get ramen. Did you ever get ramen while you lived in Tokyo?"

"Sometimes."

Emma grins. "What's your favorite?"

"I dunno."

"Same here," she says, seemingly not bothered at all by the fact that Chance is only giving her one- or two-word answers. In fact, she's probably happy because it gives her more of a chance to talk. Emma absolutely loves to talk. "I don't think I could ever choose. It's all too good. That's the problem with food. I wish American food was that good. Hamburgers either aren't very good or are too big to eat all at once, and it's pretty easy to get tired of pizza. Oh my gosh, are you one of those people who likes pineapple on pizza?"

Chance makes a face of distaste and grunts, not even bothering to answer at this point. I step forward, trying not to laugh. "Emma, stop bothering Chance."

Emma looks horrified. "Was I bothering you? I'm so sorry, I didn't realize—"

"It's fine," Chance interrupts, and I can see the faintest hint of a smile on his face. He has dimples, I realize, and they're crooked—the one on his left cheek is much lower than the one on his right. "It's nice having someone else do all the talking."

And it's not that he's saying that just to calm her down, either; he looks completely serious. Earnest, even. A little bit less dead inside. I'm not sure what Emma said or did to him, but at least it seems like he appreciated the company. I can only hope that he appreciated it just as much when I went on a rant about books earlier. That he doesn't think I'm annoying for talking so much, or something.

"Oh, thank god!" Emma exclaims, putting her hand over her chest and sighing. "I was worried for a second there! You're welcome to come by any time. Read books or buy coffee or whatever."

"He doesn't like coffee," I remind her, shaking my head. How someone can hate coffee, I'll never know, because I doubt that I'd exist without it. Literally. Sometimes, it's the only thing keeping me from falling asleep on my feet and tumbling to my death down a flight of stairs.

"Oh. Right. What a pity. Then come visit so you can say you've been meeting new people and making new friends! I talk so much that we can have a conversation without you actually talking," she suggests. "I'm sure your parents would be thrilled to know you've been socializing!"

"I guess," he answers, nodding. "I'll come by if I can remember how to get here."

"If you can't, try getting lost again," I suggest, poking his arm and wiggling my eyebrows obnoxiously. "You might end up back here again."

He scowls, but it's not the same scowl he had before, the one he had when I first ran into him. It's gentler, not as vicious, as if he knows that I don't mean any harm. Or more like he's reluctantly accepted that I'm teasing, since he still doesn't look remotely pleased. "No thanks."

"Okay, let's go," I say, holding up my car keys and jingling them for good measure. "I have no idea how long it'll take us to find your house since it's dark and you don't know the address, so the sooner we leave the better."

"Thanks," he replies. "You don't have anything you need to be doing, right? I could probably find the place on my own."

The essay I need to write for second period English tomorrow comes to mind, but I push it away. That's what first period is for. And besides, I had the whole weekend to do it, so it won't be his fault that I didn't get it done. "Nope, I'm free! I don't want your parents to freak out though, so let's go." I wave to Emma and he follows suit, albeit shyly and awkwardly, and we both walk outside.

"So," I say, fumbling for something, anything to break the heavy silence that's fallen over us. "I'm guessing the store is Tooth and Retail. Does that sound familiar at all?"

"Yeah, it had some stupid name like that. Why do all the businesses in this town have puns for names? Is it intentional?"

"All?"

He frowns at my comment. "Fine, two. All the ones that I know about. Same difference. Are there more?"

I nod stupidly before I realize that he probably can't see me in the darkness. "Yeah, it's become a trend in the last few years for locally-owned businesses. I think it's pretty unique. Not that I've lived in any other towns to compare it to, but it's still a great idea. It's funny."

"I haven't seen anything like it before, and I've lived in a bunch of different towns."

"Yeah."

I unlock the car, and he gets in the front passenger seat, having to move the seat back a little bit so he can fit comfortably. I hadn't really noticed before, but he's quite a bit taller than me. I like to tell myself that I'm just on the lower end of the normal height range, but if I'm being honest, I'm pathetically short. And Chance is most certainly not. He might even be taller than the upper end of the normal height range. Meaning he's probably at least six feet tall, while I'm a measly five foot five.

"Thanks for the ride," he says, closing the door and staring outside, resting his head against the cold window. "I'm honestly not sure that I could've made it home before tomorrow."

I laugh a little at his pessimism. "I'm sure you would have. But you're welcome anyways."

He doesn't laugh with me, which doesn't do anything to help my awkwardness. "I'm not joking—it's happened before."

Shock runs through my body, and my head snaps over to look at him. "Where?"

"We'd just moved to some suburb of Madrid and I got lost when I was trying to find my way back from the market. I tried asking for help from this one nice-looking lady and she started yelling at me in rapid-fire Spanish. The only words I understood were swear words." He pauses and shakes his head. "I never asked for help again. I spent the night sleeping outside and found my way home the next morning."

I frown as images of him getting yelled at and then sleeping outside on the streets run through my head. It makes me sad to see how he talks about this without any emotion, as if he were telling me the weather. It makes me want to do something to comfort him, but I don't know how. And that'd be awkward. Though we're already drowning in so much awkwardness that it probably couldn't get that much worse, but still.

I have to keep reminding myself that we're complete strangers. That we only met an hour ago. I don't know if it's because of how we met or just because of his personality, but I feel like I've known him for much longer. I can only hope he feels the same right now. I hope I'm not making him excessively uncomfortable.

"How'd you know swear words but nothing else?" I ask to break myself out of my thoughts. "And I think that's what phones are for. Unless you forgot it at home again?"

"My dad made me watch movies in preparation. I guess he thought it would help me get around if I knew some Spanish, but the only thing I learned from those movies were swear words. Some of the characters were..." He pauses, grasping for a word. "Intense. And yeah, I forget my phone a lot. I've never had anyone besides my parents to text, so I don't care about it enough to keep track of it."

"I can change that if you want," I offer, glad the car is mostly dark so he can't see my blushing face. I'm not quite sure why I'm blushing, since I don't have anything to be embarrassed about. There's just something incredibly clumsy about our whole interaction, and I'm absolutely horrible with handling embarrassment, first-hand or second-hand. I'm not exactly talented in social interactions. I'm actually quite the opposite. Emma is one of my only friends, and I don't know anyone at school. Not that I'm being bullied—I'm just invisible. Which is better for the most part, don't get me wrong. Except that nobody cares about my existence, and that can be kind of depressing.

I fumble around in the glove compartment and take out an old receipt, writing my phone number on the back before giving it to him. "Text me if you get lost or bored or need help. I have no life, so I should be around whenever."

"Do you always hang out at home?" he asks as I start the car and drive out of the parking lot.

I sigh internally. I'd hoped this topic wouldn't come up on the first night. Not that I'm ashamed to talk about it, but because other people never take it well. They judge me for it. And while I wish I could say that I don't care what other people think, that isn't true.

"No, I'm always out somewhere. I don't like being at home. But I don't have anyone to go out with so it's practically the same thing. And the more I befriend owners of businesses, the more likely they are to give me free stuff," I say jokingly, shooting him a grin. I'm trying to play it off, but I don't think it's working.

"What do you mean you don't like being at home?" he asks carefully, his shoulders suddenly tense. "Is..."

I turn to look at his face when we're stopped at a red light, surprised at how worried he looks. I didn't think he'd care this much. "No family issues," I assure him, and I see him let out a breath of relief. "Just personal ones. And I like the independence of wandering around and going wherever I want. Though after being in the same town for sixteen years without even moving houses, it's starting to get a little old. But I know pretty much everything about this place, so if you ever want a tour, I'm happy to show you around!"

"Oh," he replies, falling silent for a minute. "That's good. I'm not sure I would've known what to say if you had family problems." He pauses. "Wait, you're sixteen?"

"Yeah, is that bad? I'm still legally allowed to drive you, if that's what you're worried about."

"Just unexpected. I would've thought you'd be older. I'm seventeen. My birthday's in May. Though obviously I'm much less mature."

"You're older than me?" I repeat, looking more closely at him. "I would have assumed I was older. Even though you're much taller. No offense. Though nobody's really that mature when they're severely jetlagged and lost in a town that they've never been in before. You could be much more mature than me. I guess we'll just have to find out after you get sleep."

He's tall, of course, but the way he carries himself makes him seem younger than he really is. Maybe it's the way he rounds his shoulders inwards, or maybe it's the way he always looks down at the ground, or the baggy clothes he's wearing. But either way, with his messy dark hair falling just over his eyes, it's extremely hard to judge his age.

He points ahead. "Go, the light's green. And there's no way I'm more mature than you. Just saying."

"Oops. And you're older almost by a year, I guess. Mine's in April. My birthday, that is. So eleven months. But having a May birthday must be horrible with standardized tests and finals and all."

He looks away from me and puts his head back against the window. "I don't do standardized tests. Homeschooling makes it too much of a hassle. My parents don't want to bother to sign me up, especially because we can't guarantee that I'll be in the US for college."

"I can't decide if that sucks or if it's awesome," I say. "I wish my parents didn't force me to do any tests. May is always hell."

"Yeah, but homeschooling sucks," he says, looking out the window. "I'm stuck at the same desk all day, and without any other students there, it's hard to make myself focus and stay on task." Lowering his voice, he adds, "And it's lonely."

"Then text me if you're ever lonely," I say, trying to ignore how cringey and desperate that must sound to him. Instead, I focus on pulling into the store parking lot, noticing how the 'Re' in Tooth and Retail sign is burnt out, leaving only 'Tooth and tail' brightened. "Anyway, we're at the store now. Do you remember where to go from here?"

"Not really—wait, there's their car in the parking lot, I think. They might be inside. Unless someone has the same car as them. But I might as well check."

I nod, turning into the parking lot and stopping the car. "Let's go look."

"You're coming?" He looks shocked, more shocked than I thought he would. Did he really think I'd just ditch him here? From the looks of it, he did, and I can't decide whether or not I should be offended that he thought I'd just leave without making sure he meets back up with his parents.

"I want to make sure you find them. I don't want to drive away because I assume you've found them when you haven't. That'd be kind of rude."

He frowns but nods anyway. "Okay, I guess." We both get out of the car and walk towards the entrance.

"Such a horrible name," he comments, looking at the sign above the doors. "The original phrase is almost unrecognizable."

"But you still recognized it, so it worked," I say, smiling when he rolls his eyes.

"Abbie Chance Taylor!" A shrill voice calls out as soon as we enter the store. "Where have you been?"

I look up to see a middle-aged woman wearing high heels, sweatpants, and cardigan marching towards us, followed by a short, mellow-looking man I assume is Chance's dad. He looks as if he's trying to pretend that the loud exclamation didn't just come from his wife as people turn to stare from other parts of the store.

Chance gives me somewhat of a panicked look. "I guess I found them. My mom has a horrible sense of fashion, sorry about that. Cardigans with hippo patterns really shouldn't be a thing. At all." He laughs, but it's more out of nervousness than amusement. "But you should probably go—if you don't, you'll get interrogated. And not just in a getting-to-know-new-people way, but more of a how-do-we-know-you're-not-a-kidnapper way." He places a cold hand in between my shoulder blades and pushes my shoulders, nudging me back towards the entrance.

"I guess. Are you sure you'll be okay? She sounds pretty mad." I dig my feet in a little, not wanting him to push me outside just yet.

"I'll be fine. It's not like this hasn't happened before, so I know how to deal with it. I'll text you later so that you'll know I'm still alive."

"Okay, okay, you win," I say, giving up. "See you later! Don't forget!"

He nods, and I turn and walk out of the store. When I turn and glance back, I can tell he's being lectured by his mom, even though I can't hear what they're saying. I hope he doesn't get punished too badly. Even though he stormed out, it's hardly his fault that he got lost in a strange new place.

But his name...