The Search for Lily Myers ✓

10 | Chasing Sunsets

"So," Amelia asked as she and Henry started meandering towards the bridge. "What brings you downtown on a Sunday night?"

It wasn't particularly ideal weather to be out and about in. Though it wasn't raining—not yet, at least—the sky looked about as gloomy as she had been feeling, and it was nearly dark already.

"Honestly, I just wanted to grab a drink," he admitted, glancing over at her. "And clear my head. I realize that those two things don't exactly go together–" he let out a small laugh. "–But here we are."

She found herself smiling along with him, if only for a second. "Since you're not still there, I take it you didn't make any interesting new friends at the bar?"

"The whole making friends thing has never really been my forte. Which is probably for the best at this point, seeing that I doubt anyone would enjoy my company very much right now."

It was self-deprecating in a very casual sense, but Amelia still found herself frowning at it.

"Well, I like being around you," she said without thinking.

Her cheeks started to warm instantaneously, but she saw that she'd made his lips curve into a little crescent moon of a smile. "Thanks."

"You, ah, you seemed like you had a lot of friends back in school," she pointed out, trying to change the subject without really changing the subject.

Henry looked amused by this. "How so?"

"Well," she said. "There's always that one kid who walks into class with, like, a whole swarm of people talking to them. I can recall you being that kid on more than one occasion."

"I didn't realize you noticed much of anything about me back then."

They were already at the edge of the bridge, which crossed over the river that carved through downtown. It wasn't exactly the best night for sightseeing, but there weren't crowds of tourists to contend with the view was still nice enough. Even with the clouds that covered large swaths of the sky, there were still areas of pink and orange that cut through as the sun hesitated to make its final retreat below the horizon. Beneath them, the river looked more like black ink than water, but she could hear the quiet motion of the current.

Amelia brushed her hair behind her ear. "Do I sound crazy if I ask if you ever noticed anything about me? I'm curious."

To her surprise, Henry laughed again, burying his face in his hands. "You don't sound crazy, but I will."

Her mouth fell open. "Now you definitely have to tell me."

"I..." he paused. "Well, I remember you were always wearing this same perfume–"

She made a small sound of surprise. "Then I was clearly wearing way too much of it."

"No, I don't think it was that," he smiled sheepishly, but she wasn't sure if he was just being polite. "Those rows of seats were just really freaking close together. But I always sat in that same seat and you always sat behind me wearing that same perfume, so I could tell if you were in class or not solely based on if it smelled like flowers or sweaty people."

Amelia laughed. If the alternative was man stink, her perfume didn't sound so bad anymore in comparison. "Well, I hope you didn't hate it too much."

He shook his head, still grinning slightly. "I promise you weren't silently torturing me—I would have just moved seats if I hated it. It was nice. I mean, I don't know my flowers well enough to have actually recognized what it was, but I remember liking it."

She certainly was no botanist, either. There were only a handful of floral scents—the usual suspects like rose, jasmine, and sweet pea—that she would have been able to recognize without just trusting the label.