I laughed, and rolled my eyes. "Get in line."

I spent the next hour answering her million questions. I told her about working with Doctors Without Borders for the past year. I didn't offer anything about Amanda, and she didn't bring it up. I respected that a lot.

She stood up when a customer walked to the register. "I know you just got back, but can I ask a favor?"

"Of course. Anything."

"I have a huge delivery at four, can you help out?"

I agreed. It wasn't like I had shit to do anyway.

At four on the dot I was back. "It's not here yet," she said, motioning for me to take a seat. Since the first day I’d come into the store, creepily looking for Amanda, I'd always sat in the same spot. "I'm sure it's on it way."

A few minutes later I heard her voice.

Amanda.

A part of me panicked. A part of me was thankful for second chances. Or, in my case, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances. "Take a seat at your table, I'll bring it out to you," Chantal told her. I braced myself for when she turned around and saw me sitting here. My hands gripped the side of the chair. I was half sitting, half standing, like my body was ready for a battle.

She froze the second her eyes made contact with me. "Whoa," she said. Then she took a step forward, as if unsure. I found myself sitting back down, relaxing slightly. She bit her lip; her eyes cast downwards, and stopped a few feet away. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

I exhaled loudly. "I can go—"

"No!" she exclaimed, at the same time as Chantal came back.

She placed two coffees and a book on the table, then turned to me and said, "You can't go. Besides, that's your chair. It's got your name on it."

I looked at her confused. "What?"

Amanda glared at Chantal, who just laughed. "On the arm. You didn't write it?" She gave Amanda a knowing smirk. "Well. Ain't that something . . ."

I heard Amanda mumble something under her breath, but was too busy looking at my name carved on the wooden arm of the chair. My fingers traced the letters.

"Do you want me to leave?" her voice was so soft I almost didn't hear it.

My head whipped up to face her. "No. Do you want to leave?"

"No." Then she just stood there, her eyes focused on my face. Probably the cut on my lip, and the slight redness on my cheek.

Chantal came back and made an annoyed huffing sound. We both turned to her. "What are you guys doing? You're not twelve." She threw her hands up in the air. "Talk." She placed her hands on Amanda's shoulders and maneuvered her to the seat opposite me. Amanda's gaze never left mine. Chantal pointed at the book and spoke to Amanda, "I got it signed for you."

Amanda finally looked away and up at Chantal. "No you didn't!" she said, with excitement in her voice.

"Yes," Chantal replied. "Look."

Amanda smiled as she opened the book. Fuck, I miss that smile. "Never regret," she breathed out, and then looked up at Chantal in awe. Chantal smiled back. "Never regret," she repeated.

She kept her eyes on the book for a while, her smile getting wider with each second.

"You come here a lot?" I asked her, but then rolled my eyes at myself. Lame.

"Why, Logan," she smirked and put the book in her bag, "you've lost your game. That was a horrible pick up line."

I couldn't help but laugh. So did she. And somehow, in that one moment, the world tilted on its axis and the atmosphere became something closer to normal.

"I do, actually." She fidgeted with a bunch of bracelets on her wrists, and then placed them under the table. "Whenever I get a chance, between classes and what-not."

I nodded, thankful she was speaking to me.

"So," she started, looking around the store. "I assume you’re going back to UNC?"

"Yeah," I told her. "Next semester I start back, so I'll be a year behind."

She smiled softly. "How come you moved out here now, then? Why not after summer break?"

I felt the tension leave my muscles. She was talking to me; we were talking to each other. Things would be okay. "I wanted to get in early and find a place. I know it becomes harder the closer we get to the school year."

She was about to speak, but Chantal cut her off by placing a bowl on the table: red Gummy Bears and ice cream.

Amanda's eyes went wide, and then a smile formed on her lips. "How did she know?" she asked me, bringing the bowl closer to her.

I shrugged. "No clue."

"Liar."

I laughed.

"What happened to your face?" Chantal asked. I forgot she was standing there.

Amanda choked.

"Nothing," I said.

Amanda coughed some more.

Chantal eyed me, and then Amanda. "Nothing?" She raised her eyebrows.

Amanda calmed herself down. "I slapped him," she answered for me.

Chantal placed her hands on her hips. "Well, did you deserve it?" she asked me.

"Yes," I answered, the same time as Amanda said, "No."

Chantal shook her head, and walked away.

Amanda put the bowl to the side and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "You didn't deserve that, Logan. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I should have never laid a hand on you."

"It's fine. It really—"