I'm familiar with the train station at Brighton from my trips, and for the few months I lived with my Dad about a year ago. It's like stepping into an alternate reality, except that at one point it was real, and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

I scan the crowd for a familiar face. It's a busy time in the afternoon, but it's never hard to find someone six five. Wilbur turns around and smiles when we make eye contact.

"Hey Mai," he greets me. The use of the nickname causes my back muscles to stiffen. Only one person ever consistently used that name, but it usually doesn't mess with me as much as it used to. It was just jarring coming from Wilbur's mouth. He's never used that nickname with me before, but the way his voice casually throws it around makes me smile a little despite some unpleasant memories..

"Hello Wil." I follow his lead with the nicknames. "How are you today?"

He starts walking towards an exit. "Perfect. How was your trip?"

I shrug. "S'okay, I slept a lot, but that just means I'm energized for Brighton."

"Well I have a great day planned for us before I have to get you to your Dad's house." Wilbur leads me to a small gray car.

He sets my bag in the trunk before going to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door for me before going to his own seat.

"What's first on this so-called-great-day?" I muse as he flips the car's music a couple times.

"First of all, it's not so-called, it is a great day," Wilbur begins, "Second of all, it's pancakes."

This makes me smile. Wilbur and I soon learned after getting to know each other that he and my father lived closer than we thought. Who knows how many times we've been close to meeting in the past and just never knew it. But this little tidbit is great because we both have similar favorite places. One being a cafe with the best damn pancakes we've ever tasted.

It smells of flour when we walk in. The natural light pours through the windows and onto the darker-colored theme of the cafe. The walls are a deep, red wine shade with gold accents lining them. A book shelf lines the back wall, and all the tables are wooden.

It's not the place you would first consider to go get pancakes when you walk in. This is a coffee and tea with a pastry while you read a book type of place, but somehow they managed to be famous for their pancakes.

I stop walking when I see the girl behind the counter. A familiar yet unfamiliar face I wished to never see again.

"You okay?" Wilbur asks quietly as he puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. The touch gives me a little relief but not even close to the amount I wish to have.

I nod before I continue walking. I'll just pretend to not recognize her.

That plan went to shit before it could even begin. Her eyes flit to mine, and her jaw drops.

"Maia?"

"The one and only." I joke as I put both my hands out, almost as if I'm letting her inspect. Almost as if to say; yes, I'm back in Brighton. Look at how not-messed up you lot seem to think I am. Isn't that just astonishing, Ashleigh? Just fucking amazing.

"It's been a while. I thought you'd be.. gone.. for a while." Her words are hesitant, trying to be nice, but I can hear the condescending tone.

Two can play at that game.

"Well Ashleigh, that's not how it went, was it?" I say it sweetly, but the undertones are nowhere close to any kind of candy. "We both know that too, so let's not dramatize it like you seem to want."

Her eyes grow wide, darting to the man next to me. I smile towards Wilbur, glad he's next to me. Let them assume what they must because I just know everything I just said will be dramaticized and reported to others.

"I'll have the pancakes. Extra strawberries," I say, disregarding the conversation we just had.

Once Wilbur and I have sat down, he gives me a quiet stare. I don't say anything as I try to cool off from what just happened.

We're quiet until Ashleigh aggressively places two plates of pancakes in front of us without a word. I give her a petty, sing-song 'thank you' as she walks away. Then, I turn back to the plate only to realize Wilbur staring at me.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks as he raises his brows.

I shrug. "Just someone I knew from when I lived here for a bit."

"That seemed like a loaded statement because I have never seen you act like that." Wilbur begins to cut into his pancake.

My cheeks flush, now slightly embarrassed by my actions.

"It's just.. Just that some people in Brighton don't bring out the best in me."

"Is that why you don't come back very often? Why you meet your brother halfway when delivering furniture?" Wilbur phrases the question as if he already knew the answer. He doesn't though. I haven't shared that part of me left.

I take a bite of my pancake. He takes the sign that I don't want to talk about it and drops the topic.

"Got any ideas for what I have planned for us?" he asks, seeming excited for whatever's going through his mind.

"Absolutely none."

He smiles. "That's perfect then. It's a surprise."

I roll my eyes. Surprises aren't my favorite. Especially when it comes to being here, in Brighton. It keeps me on an edge, unsure what could be around the corner anywhere in this city.

We finish up our food before he takes us outside. We walk a block one direction before he pauses. We're standing on the sidewalk. There's a place to rent bikes to our right and the street to our left. I glance up at the buildings around us, wondering if he brought us to an office building to stream.

"Not up, idiot." He sighs. Doing a dramatic signal to the rack on the side of the pavement.

My jaw drops in an excited realization. "Please tell me we're riding bikes. Because I would love to ride bikes around the city like a tourist."

He laughs. "Yes, we're going to take the most touristy bike ride you've ever taken around the city of brighton."

I grew up riding bikes with Max, so I'm pretty good at speed and weaving through people or things. Wilbur seems to be very relaxed on a bike as well, so he keeps up. I give him my most competitive stare before picking up more speed. We race down the road, scaring multiple pedestrians but not having a care in the world.

We finally stop and park the bikes when we hit the pier. We climb up on a wall and stare out at the horizon. There aren't many people in this part at all, and it's a nice feeling.

"Peaceful." Wilbur reads my mind.

"Very." I close my eyes for a second. The breeze lifts my hair slightly before it floats back to my shoulders. I open my eyes.

Wilbur has a slight smile on his face as he looks at me. He doesn't turn away when I notice him watching.

"Creep much, mate?" I ask with a smile.

He chuckles. "It's just crazy being here with you."

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

"Just the fact that you're here and you're real. It feels like the universe is granting me some sort of wish, telling me I've done something right.

"Probably picking me as a friend," I joke, "I'm always a good choice."

"Indeed you are."

I'm so glad that he feels similarly to me. That he thinks it's a great think that pixels on the screen actually turned out to be one amazing human being. I can't believe the universe aligned to let us become friends.

"Wilbur?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah?" His eyes are trained on the horizon now, but his focus on the conversation hasn't differed at all.

"Would you like to come to a family dinner with me tonight?" I ask.

He smiles as he looks back to me. "I would love to."

I return the smile before turning back to the sea. Something about being under his gaze caused my cheeks to flush. It's probably from the exercise of riding the bike.

Wilbur followed my lead to watch the horizon once again. He points out a boat in the distance.

"You think we should rent on of those?" he asks.

"Absolutely not," I say immediately.

His brows furrow. "Why not?"

I shrug. "Because."

"That's not a good answer." Wilbur rolls his eyes. "Can you not swim?"

I laugh a little. "Of course I can swim. I've known how since I was three."

"Then why don't you want to rent a boat, Maia?" Wilbur asks. It's a simple question, probably trying to push me out of my comfort zone.

I appreciate it, I really do. Just not with this particular thing. It's a bit of a sensitive subject.

I cover all of it up with a shrug. "Don't know. I'm just not a big fan of boats, I guess."

He shakes his head with a laugh. "You'll have to tell the story one day."

My head whips in his direction. "What do you mean?"

His brows furrow once again. "Well, I figured if you don't like boats, then there's a story. I just feel like it would be funny."

I nod once. "I'm not so sure it's a comedy. Well, some people laugh at it actually."

"We'll have to see what side I'm on," Wilbur says as he stands, then holds a hand out to help me.

I hesitate at his statement. I really hope you're not on theirs, Wilbur. I think before taking his hand.