I order up the Chinese food and wait patiently for it to be cooked. As I do, the temptation to read those two text messages becomes too much. I pull out my phone and read what he had to say:

Humid seal of soft affections,

Tend ‘rest pledge of future bliss,

Dearest tie of young connections,

Love’s first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Whoa … what the?!

My mind is awash with confusion. I have no idea how to feel about this. On the one hand, it seems forward, maybe even presumptuous. On the other hand, I can’t help the fire dancing in my belly from the mere thought of that kiss.

Needing to know more, I copy and paste the poem into Google. I start laughing as the results come up. Of course. The man who wrote it was Robert Burns, a Scottish poet. And the poem itself is called “To a Kiss.” It’s hardly surprising that he’s chosen the poem of a fellow Scot, but what really intrigues me is the indication that more lies beneath the surface than I would have thought based upon our initial encounter. He has this bad boy biker thing going on, but he’s also intelligent, considering his choice to spend his recreational bar time reading a book while keeping his laptop at hand. Add his knowledge of poetry to the mix, and I’d definitely wager that he’s a well-educated man.

I’m still smiling from his last text when I remember he followed with another after. I click on it immediately and read what else he has to say. I’m thinking it may be another verse of a poem, so I’m surprised by what I find instead.

That was unfair. If we weren’t in a packed pub, I’d skelp your bahookie! ;)

I laugh out loud at his choice of words. I have no idea what they mean, but they sound funny. Again, I have to use Google to help me understand. Apparently, a skelp on the bahookie is Scottish slang for a smack on the bottom.

He really is a cocky bastard.

I suppose he thinks it’s okay to say such bold words since he put a cute wink emoticon at the end of them. I’m tempted to text back, but at the same time, I wonder what is to be gained by it? I know it’s much too soon to enter into any relationship—no matter the capacity. I never thought I could simply meet someone and have such a strong initial reaction to him.

I sit there for another couple of minutes, allowing my thumb to hover over the reply button. Should I reply or not? Just as I’m debating this, I hear a voice shout, “Number thirty-two!”

Realising it’s my number, I snap my head up and make my way to the counter, stuffing my phone into my bag as I walk. I guess texting back will have to wait for now.

A guy with a Mohican hair style smiles at me from behind the counter as I approach. He places a bag down on the counter, and the smell immediately hits me, causing my stomach to growl in impatient anticipation.

“That’ll be thirteen-thirty, please, love.”

I hand him over the twenty, pleased that I will be getting over six pounds back. With that, maybe I can buy myself a drink after school tomorrow. I have a feeling I’ll need it once I’m done.

Once I get the change, I thank Mohican guy and make my ten-minute journey home. It’s only a little after eight, but it’s already relatively quiet considering it’s a Sunday night. The people I do see are going about their evenings with their heads down, texting or scrolling through their phones. I, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury. With Liam after me, I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. I worry that every footstep, laugh, voice, and unidentified noise I hear on the street will turn out to be him. I hate living in fear of what tomorrow will bring, but at the same time, I can never let my guard down.

When I reach the door to my house, I haven’t even got the key in when my mum answers, screeching, “Happy birthday” and raising a bottle of champagne up in a celebratory salute.

“Ooh, you’ve got the Chinese! Lovely. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Guilt instantly courses through me. “Sorry I didn’t get back sooner.”

“Don’t be silly,” she replies, taking the bag from me and walking in. “It’s your birthday—the one day you get to decide on whatever it is you want to do.” I follow her into the living room where she sets the bag down on the table. She sighs, looking a little sad. “I just wish I could have done something special for you. Taken you away somewhere nice. Is it still your dream to go to Tuscany?”

“Number one, this is special. Number two, we both know there is no way we could have been away for my birthday with school starting tomorrow. And, number three, I would still love to go to Tuscany, but I have a new favourite now.”

As my mum unties the wrapping from the champagne, she looks up at me with a curious smile. “Oh, yeah? Where would that be? America? Australia? Paris, maybe?” she asks with a giggle.

“Edinburgh.”

“Edinburgh?” my mum asks just as the cork pops, hitting the lampshade and dropping to the floor. Instantly, champagne comes pouring out of the newly opened bottle. Quick in her movements, my mum grabs a glass and manages to salvage potential spillage. “Nice save,” I say to her.

“Waste not, want not,” she says with a smirk. She pours some into another glass and hands it to me. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here with me for it.”

I know what she means without needing to hear the words. “I am too. And thank you for this.”

She looks down at the table. “As I said, I only wish it were more.” I’m about to complain that what she’s done is enough when she says, “Come. Sit, eat, and tell me all about your interest in Edinburgh.”

I sit down, and my mum retrieves all the boxes of food from the bag. “There’s not much to say. I just spoke to someone at the pub tonight. He’s here starting a new job, but he’s originally from Edinburgh.” Thinking about it now, I realise I forgot to ask him what line of work he’s in.

“He?” she asks with a gleam in her eye.

“Yes, he,” I reply back, smirking.

“Does he at least have a name?”

“Easton.”

She frowns. “That’s an unusual name.”

“That’s what I said to him.” My mum hands me my box, and I take it from her hand.

“And what did he say to that?”

“That unusual was his family all over.”

“Hmm,” she muses. “It sounds as though you had quite a conversation.

And them some!

I know my mum’s fishing, but I’m not going to give anything away. Nonchalantly, I shrug it off like it meant nothing—even though it means everything. “It was nothing really. Just a very brief conversation with a guy I met at the bar.”

She gives me an I’m not buying it look. “Yes, it was so nothing that all of a sudden you now want to go to Edinburgh after a very brief conversation with a man in a pub.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“I suppose it’s just one of those situations where you simply don’t think of an idea until someone brings it up in conversation. Do you see where I’m coming from?” I ask, popping a chicken ball in my mouth.

“I do,” she replies with that same smirk on her face.

“Edinburgh is a lot more doable than Tuscany, that’s for sure. Either a very short plane ride or the train would suffice.”

“Maybe one day.”

Nodding, I take a sip of my champagne. “Yep. Maybe one day.”