Callum just stood there for several seconds, a broad grin on his face. “Whisky for me,” he told the bartender, and turned back to Amelia. “Fancy seeing you here! What are the odds? Wow!”

“Um, yeah wow,” she managed, still in shock. “What are the odds?” She remembered then that he’d said at their last meeting that he lived in Edinburgh. But he was right, what was the likelihood that they’d end up in the same bar at the same time?

“I was hoping to see you again, and here you are!” He stepped forward for a hug, and Amelia moved into his arms. The memory of being pressed against the pub door, Callum’s body over hers, leapt to mind, and she shivered. His lips brushed across her cheek, and she felt her skin tingle. “It’s really good to see you again,” she said taking her drink and his from the bartender and handing him his whisky. “Do you have a table?”

“Yeah, just over here,” he said. “I was waiting on some mates, but they bailed on me. I was just thinking of leaving when I saw you walk in.”

“Good timing,” Amelia said. Now that the shock was wearing off, she was genuinely glad to see Callum. She hadn’t thought of him much in the last few days, while she was with Adam, but now the memory of the two of them kissing outside of the pub came rushing back, and she was suddenly very happy to be there with him.

“So what brings you to Edinburgh?” he asked. “You didn’t say you were thinking of coming for a visit.”

“I just needed a few days away,” Amelia said. “I was getting cabin fever, I guess. There was a big storm, and it’s so isolated there. I suppose I just needed to be around people for a bit again.”

“My parents told me there was a hell of a storm coming in,” Callum said. “I was thinking of you, hoping you’d be all right, you know, out there all on your own.”

“Um, yes…I managed,” Amelia said faintly. It seemed inappropriate somehow to tell him that she’d spent the storm waiting it out at Adam’s house. She thought of the nights she’d spent tangled up in Adam’s bed, and flushed at the memory. That was something Callum didn’t need to hear about. “I’m tougher than I look,” she said brightly. “Besides, we do get snow in Chicago.”

“Chicago?” He raised an eyebrow. “Where is that, exactly?”

“Bottom of Lake Michigan, the Midwest.” She took a sip of her drink. “Have you ever been? To the U.S., I mean.”

“I haven't. Always wanted to go, but no chance just yet. I hear it’s a great country to visit.”

“Depends on where you go,” Amelia laughed. “Maybe don’t go to Wisconsin though, that is where I'm originally from.”

“Not that great of a place?”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “Chicago is better.”

“If I go there, I’ll be sure to look you up, yeah?” He winked at her.

She felt that flutter in her chest again, and looked at his eyes. He tipped back the rest of his whiskey and returned the look, and a pregnant silence hung in the air between them. He cleared his throat finally, setting his glass down on the table. “I’ve got some good gin back at mine,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Would you be interested in testing it?”

Amelia took a breath, her skin heating under the weight of his gaze. He was looking at her patiently, waiting for her to answer. She swallowed the last of her drink, and hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said. “yes, I most certainly would be interested.”

* * *

She followed him up the stairs of the house, which he’d explained was divided into three flats, one for each floor. His apartment was spacious, and modern. The copious art matched the modern space. Callum tossed his keys into a dish on the counter, and walked to a small, brass bar cart sitting along the wall. “Gin and tonic then?” he asked. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Sounds good,” Amelia said. She sat down on the edge of the navy-blue couch, facing the large bay window. The city lights were glittering in the distance, and she realized with a sudden rush that she missed Chicago. The farms and the fields held their own beauty, but here she felt almost as if she were back home.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Callum said, handing her the drink.

“I haven’t heard anyone say that in a very long time,” Amelia laughed, taking a sip. “Oh wow, this is really good.”

“My mother says it all of the time. I suppose it stuck.” Callum sat on the couch next to her. “Gorgeous view, isn’t it?”

“Yeah it is. It makes me miss Chicago, a bit.”

“You like it there? In the city?”

“Yeah, I do,” Amelia said. “It’s been lovely being here, but I am looking forward to going home, even though I'm technically homeless at the moment.”

“How’s that?” Callum took a sip of his whisky. “Breakup?”

Amelia nodded. “Long-time boyfriend, we both graduated, went in different directions. Old story, I guess, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. He let me stay at our place for a bit, but while I’ve been gone he’s probably let it go. I wouldn’t want to stay there any longer anyway.”

“Bad memories?”

“Good ones, really,” Amelia said, looking down at her glass and swirling the drink. The ice cubes clinked against it, making small, musical sounds. “We had a pretty good relationship, I think. We just didn’t talk enough. Not about what we wanted, or our futures. I think we both just assumed the other was on the same page, and then we found out very suddenly that we weren’t. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no cheating or big blow-up fights. It was all very amicable, really.”

“Any chance you think you’ll make up?” Callum glanced at her. He got up, and walked to the fireplace at the far end of the room. It was very different from the one in her small rustic cottage. There was a smooth stone hearth above it, white with grey veins running through it, and grey flagstones in front. Callum knelt down. “There’s heating in here, but I like a fire. Better ambience, yeah?” He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “I’m an artist and a writer, I’m all about the ambience you know.”

“What kind of writer?” Amelia asked, her interest piqued.

“I write poetry, mostly. It’s a bit rubbish, I think. Haven’t sold much. My visual art does better.”

“You're an Artist? I’d love to see your work.”

“Maybe someday.” He winked at her. “Now, you didn’t answer my question? Any chance that you and the boyfriend will get back together?”

“We talked about it before I left. Sort of agreed that I’d look for jobs where he was going,” Amelia admitted. “But I don’t think so, no. The more time that passes, the more I see that I just don’t think we were right for each other. I don’t want to be in that kind of relationship, you know, one where you don’t really talk about things? I ignored it for a long time, thinking it was just because we were both so busy with school, that we would talk more when it was all over. And now I think that it was just us.” She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Maybe we always subconsciously knew if we started talking, we’d say things the other person didn’t want to hear. So we just didn’t.”

“Sounds like you’ve done quite a bit of thinking about it,” Callum said, coming back to sit next to her.

“Well, there’s plenty of downtime out there in the wilds,” Amelia said, laughing.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not thinking of getting back together with the guy,” Callum said.

“Why’s that?” Amelia felt the fluttering in her stomach again. He was sitting so close to her, and there was the promise of something else behind his words.

“Because I was very much hoping that I’d get to do this again.” He leaned towards her then, his hand going to the small of her back, and there was a fraction of a second where she could have pulled away, but she didn’t want to. Amelia knew he was going to kiss her, and she tilted her head back slightly, her eyes drifting to his mouth as he bent his head, pressing his lips gently against hers.

They were as warm and soft as she’d remembered, and she leaned into him, her hand on his thigh as he threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking the nape of her neck as his tongue skimmed over her lower lip, and she parted them for him. He deepened the kiss, and she gasped softly, her skin flushing hotly as she felt her tongue brush against his, and she arched her back. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and she slid her hands down his chest, feeling the firm flex of muscle under his shirt. His hair fell over his eyes, brushing against her face, and she giggled softly against his mouth. “That tickles,” she whispered, and he laughed, the vibrations of it running over her lips.

He pushed his hair away, and then slid his hand up her side, his mouth moving from her lips to her face, brushing down her cheek and along the line of her jaw. She shivered when his lips trailed over her ear, and he gently sucked the lobe into his mouth, nibbling on it gently. His hand slid over her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple, and she felt it stiffen through the silky material of her blouse. She moaned softly, her head tipping back, and she felt his hand curl under her breast, his mouth going down her neck, over her collarbones and to the small hollow between them. His tongue flicked out, dipping into that space, and she leaned into his arm, her hands running up his thighs. He made a small noise in his throat, his lips trailing down her chest and over the thin fabric of her tank top, his lips finally closing over her nipple through the black material.

Amelia moaned, her back arching harder, and he was leaning over her then, urging her back onto the couch, and she went willingly, falling back against the cushions as his body stretched over hers. She felt him then, hard against her thigh, pressing between her jean-clad legs, and she arched her hips, rubbing against him. His hands were on her breasts, her waist, fingers sliding underneath the thin material as his lips found hers again, and she ran her hands through his hair, wishing for his hands to slide up further and find her breasts again. Her nipples were stiff through the lace bra, aching for him to touch them, and she rolled her hips against his, wishing all of their layers of clothing were gone. It was just like that evening outside of the pub, except there was no one to stop them here.

That thought fluttered through her foggy mind, and she paused. “Callum,” she whispered against his mouth, pulling back slightly.

“Are you okay?” He pulled away, and his brow was furrowed with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said. “Every time we do this I wind up running away. It’s not fair on you I know. I came to Edinburgh to clear my head, get some time to think about things. I don’t think this is going to do much to help that.”

“I didn’t mean to push you into anything,” Callum said. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”

“You didn’t,” Amelia assured him. “Not at all. It’s me. I’ve got a lot going on. A lot in my head, and I haven’t really had a chance to sort it all out. I think this would only make things more confusing.” She wanted to go back to a few seconds ago, with Callum pressed against her, his breath warm against her skin. She shivered a little at the thought. She wanted him, there was no question of that. But deep down, she knew that Callum, in the here and now, wasn’t a good idea.

She stood up, her legs shaky. “I’ll take the glass to the kitchen,” she said.

“Let me,” Callum said, taking it out of her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again, looking as if he wasn’t sure exactly what to say.

“It’s really not your fault,” Amelia said again, pressing her lips together. She felt awkward suddenly, unsure of how to handle the situation. “I’m, um…I’m going to head back to my hotel,” she said.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Callum said. He walked over to stand in front of her, reaching for her hand. “I’m still really glad I ran into you, Amelia. Maybe I’ll look you up if I ever come to Chicago.”

“You should do that,” she said, feeling suddenly emotional. She gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m really glad I ran into you, too,” she said.