“Missed you, rascal.” She winks at him.

It’s pretty easy to see they share a history.

Mal flicks the back of her ear. “Been a minute.”

“Call me this weekend?”

“Depends on a certain bell,” he says. Bell means a ring, a booty call, a one-night stand. But Belle is my name, too. Not that he knows that.

My whole body is sore from having sex with Mal five times last night, not to mention the extracurricular activities we did in addition. We don’t discuss the one time without the condom, because he did pull out. I tell myself nothing bad will happen, but just to make sure, I’ll buy a morning-after pill at the airport’s Boots pharmacy.

After placing our order at the bar, I wince as I sit down. Mal grabs my hand and presses it against his lips.

“Let’s try this again in broad daylight.” He clears his throat. “Stay.”

I tear open a pack of chips and throw one into my mouth, chewing to buy some time.

“As I said, I’m starting college in two weeks.”

“Feck college.”

“What about my mom?”

“Don’t feck her. That’s the kind of kinky I’m not quite into. But you hate her, Rory. Besides, we’ll send her hairspray every month. And plane tickets every Christmas. Easter, too, if you insist.” He reaches for his Guinness—yes, in the morning—taking a generous sip. “Stay, Rory. It’s kismet. Tell me you didn’t notice the rain stopped when we kissed yesterday.”

I open my mouth to say it means nothing, but then the power goes out. It’s daylight, but it still freaks me out when the hanging TVs go dead, the Lord of the Dance music stops, and the humming of industrial fridges ceases.

The silence stretches between us. Everyone seems to have gone quiet. I’m not sure, but I think some people are staring at us. They must’ve heard the last part of the conversation when the music died, and are waiting for my answer.

Do they know Mal proposed? I swallow, staring at my hands on the table.

“Rory?” he asks.

“I don’t believe in kismet,” I say quietly, keeping my eyes trained on the open bag of chips. “You’re twenty-two, and I’m eighteen. We both know it won’t last.”

Am I working against my own fate?

The electricity comes back on. This serendipity crap is borderline paranormal. Annoyed, I take comfort in the fact that the football playing on the TVs and the music will drown our conversation, and the rest of the locals go back to their chitchat.

Mal says nothing. His face falls, like he just realized I’m right. I pinch the hoop in my nose and slide it back and forth.

“Hey, what about doing a long-distance thing? I’m planning on getting a job while I study, so I can probably visit you next summer. Maybe even Christmas, depending on the ticket prices.”

As I say this, I try to convince myself it really can work. I’ll only need to pay for the tickets. Mal has a car and a house.