I’m fast approaching the last year of my degree. My second-year finals are done and dusted, and the summer stretches out ahead of me filled with endless possibilities.

First thing’s first, I promised Mum and Dad that I’d come home for a week or two before making any other plans.

Dad and Kate were married now having taken the plunge last year, and I’ve never seen Dad happier, while Mum and Max are still blissfully cohabitating. It must be strange for them all to be without kids every other week.

Rhys has gone on to become a high school P.E. teacher, and Galen, well he’s become one-quarter of the U.K.’s biggest band—a band that is currently attempting world domination with their biggest tour yet.

I’ve been to a few of their British gigs, always refusing the VIP tickets Galen sent to Mum and buying my own in the stands.

We don’t talk anymore, well, that’s not entirely true. We exchange pleasantries when needed like, “Merry Christmas” or “Is Mum home?” or “Can you tell Rhys happy birthday?”

So instead of being backstage where Mum, Max and sometimes even Rhys can be found, I mingle with the masses and watch the boy that once ate my kale because I hated it so much, as he mesmerises crowds of thousands.

Sometimes I hear bits of conversations about who he’s seeing now, and whether Mum or Max thinks this new guy could be the one. But I mostly block it out.

When I turned seventeen, Galen left instructions for me to receive his old car as he no longer needed it on the road.

I went out, and with the help of Dad and my savings, bought an equally crappy car. But it was mine. It held no memories of him.

And that is the car I’m using to drive home.

The traffic is heavy as I cross the Severn Bridge back into Wales—the land of my fathers—and I decide to pull in at the next services to grab a drink and stretch my legs.

That’s where I fall at the feet—literally—of, quite possibly, the only man that has caught my attention since… yeah, since him.

“Hey, shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left my duffle bag against the wall where I thought nobody was going to fall over it.” The guy with the jet-black hair laughs and helps me to my feet.

“Yeah, uh, I’m a klutz,” I reply, double thumb pointing myself as if he wouldn’t realise who the ‘I’m’ in my sentence is referring to.

He smiles. It’s broad and white and dazzles against his darkly tanned skin.

“Alexis,” he offers, extending his hand. “Can I grab you a coffee?”

I look from his long, thick fingers tipped with perfectly shaped nails, up to his wrist adorned with an expensive looking watch, and my eyes still on his muscular, veined forearms.

What was the question again?

Uh, I am not that girl.

I shake my head lightly and bring my gaze up to his face. His lightly stubbled, square-jawed, ridiculously handsome face, with its strong, straight nose, defined cheekbones and melted honey-brown eyes.

“No,” I reply flatly, and I see a flicker of amusement pass over that too handsome face. “But you can grab me a tea. Strong, with a dash of skimmed milk, no sugar.”

I ignore his hand and sidestep past him towards the amenities.

“Oh, and Alexis,” I say over my shoulder. “I’ll tell you my name if you throw in a blueberry muffin and a genuine apology.”

Then, I round the corner and slip into the ladies’ room, not expecting him to be there waiting for me when I come out. It was a brief but fun interlude to break up my drive home before I get bombarded with news about Galen.

I do my business, take my time checking my reflection in the mirror and head back outside, and I struggle to hide my surprise when I find Alexis waiting for me with a to-go cup of tea and a bagged blueberry muffin.

“My deepest and most sincere apologies…”

“Fflur.”

Most people struggle with the pronunciation of my name if they aren’t Welsh, thinking it’s said the French way like FLEUR, when actually, it’s more like FLEER, with the r on the end rolled into a soft burr.

Alexis repeats it back perfectly as if it was made to fall from his lips, and it’s enough to have me almost inviting him home with me.

Almost. Because, yeah, the Galen thing.

Not that I haven’t had a few hook-ups in uni, but I haven’t had many hook-ups.

“Where are you heading, Fflur?” he asks while I stand before him semi-stupefied.

“Home,” I offer simply, not bothering to ask the same of him.

“Well,” he says with another one of those smiles before reaching down to scoop up his bag. “If home is anywhere near your beautiful capital city, I’d love to buy you a tea again sometime soon.”

“It’s close,” I say with my own smile, before taking a sip of my hot tea, and if possible, his grin becomes even brighter.