“I’m excited, too, obviously ... It feels like a lot longer than a month since we started talking, and I honestly can’t believe we haven’tactuallymet yet.” I run my hands down my trousers. “I don’t know, man. I just hope it goes well. I really, really want it to go well.”
“It will,” Lena says definitively, just as the overhead speaker announces an incoming train from Bristol. I look up to see the train approaching, still a long way off.
“She’s here.”
“Good luck!” my siblings reply at the same time.
I reach into my pocket, flash them both my lucky coin, then hang up the call. I rise to stand, tuck my phone and coin into my back pocket, then pick up the flowers from the bench next to me. A woman standing with her teenage daughter looks over at me with kind eyes, then nods once in encouragement. I nod back at her as the train comes to a stop at the platform.
I hold my breath as the dozen sets of doors open, and wait to spot a trio of women getting off with, as Georgia phrased it in one of her texts over the past week, an embarrassing amount of luggage. I scan the crowd until I spot a redheaded woman stepping off at the far end of the platform. She immediately turns around to take a large grey suitcase fromsomeone else still aboard, out of view. I assume the redhead is Madison, Georgia’s cousin, and my heart picks up speed. I don’t move closer, waiting to be sure.
Once three exceptionally large bags are passed over and placed onto the platform, the other two women step off the train with several carry-on bags as the train doors chime and begin to close one by one.
When Georgia turns around, time seems to slow. She’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting green gingham trousers with a plain white T-shirt underneath an unbuttoned pink cardigan. She’s got a lilac tote bag on her shoulder that matches the scrunchie in her hair, and bright-white trainers on her feet.
She looks exactly ... right. Perfectlyher. Wrapped head to toe in pastel colours that amplify her shining spirit. I allow my eyes to travel over her soft curves, blonde hair, and winning smile. She’s even more beautiful than in her photos, emitting a contagious sort of joy that instantly brings a smile to my face. Georgia is a golden ray of light amidst this dreary train station.
“G, is that him?” Madison’s voice echoes around the platform, her mischievous grin pointed my way.
I take my hand out of my pocket to wave at the three women, who are all now looking towards me. A laugh escapes me as Georgia’s smile grows only wider, flashing teeth. She shrugs the tote bag off her shoulder, quickly passes it off to her sister, and takes off running in my direction, the sound of her giggle greeting me before any words are exchanged between us.
I force my feet to move in her direction, meeting her a third of the way.
“Hi!” she exclaims seconds before crashing into me. I hoist her up with one arm around her lower back, bringing her in close as her momentum sways us side to side. Her handsgrasp on to my shoulders as her feet leave the ground. “I expected you to be waiting outside,” she says softly against my shoulder. “This is a nice surprise.”
“I bought a ticket so I could wait here instead,” I say, setting her down. “I thought you might need a hand with your luggage.” I smile, looking towards her sister and cousin.
“We do.” Georgia laughs. “Thank you.”
“How was the journey?” I’m already missing the feeling of her in my arms. But I can’t hug her again so soon, surely.
“Lugging all of our stuff on and off three different trains wasnotfun but ...” Georgia looks up at me, and her eyes crease on the sides as her smile blooms once more. “We’re here now.” The tip of her nose and cheeks turn the softest shade of pink as she reaches out and puts her hand on my biceps. “Hi,” she says again. “Sorry, I feel like I’m staring at you ... It’s just ... You’re real!”
I blow out a breath, laughing nervously. “These are for you,” I say, holding the flowers towards her. “I’m only, what, a month late for Valentine’s Day?”
“I didn’t bring you anything,” she says, pouting playfully as she takes the bouquet. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her. “You remembered my ketchup chips, right?”
She nods, giggling. “Right, of course, how could I forget. You only reminded me seventy times.”
I reach out, cradling her face in my palm. “I’d have settled for that hug, honestly,” I say, swallowing. I lose myself in Georgia’s eyes, their various shades of blue guarded by a ring of grey. They remind me of lazy afternoons spent lying in my parents’ garden, turning clouds into woodland animals with the use of my imagination.
Everything about Georgia feels familiar somehow, as if each of her features is plucked from memories long sincestored away. The crinkle of her nose belongs to an old schoolmate who always wound up in trouble for making the class laugh. The way her fringe is gently being tossed by the wind is reminiscent of my nan’s favourite golden quilt, hanging out to dry on the clothesline. Her freckles are in the shapes of constellations my father taught me to find during a camping trip over a decade ago. Georgia’s smile, however, is entirely hers. I’m certain there’s never been anything else quite like it.
“You’re looking at me like you want to kiss me, Callum.”
I chuckle, my thumb tucks itself against the corner of her mouth. “Am I?”
“You are.” Her tongue darts out the tiniest bit, wetting her lips.
“Maybe, yes.”
She blinks up at me, long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. “Would you?”
“Would I?”
“Kiss me.”
