I nod and mouth a silent thank you, making my way to the couches near the fireplace. Betty Campbell had taken over running this cafe from her mother when she was my age, she would be in her fifties now. Thirty-odd years on her feet, with a smile on her face, a smile which never seems forced; how nice would that be? She knows all the regular customers’ names and memorises our orders. That’s probably another reason it feels homely here, the intimate hospitality of a small country town.

Moments later she places a latte and a muffin on the coffee table before me, smiles, then rushes off to serve the couple who have wandered in. Reaching into my handbag I pull out the book I’m currently reading and get comfortable. This right here, is my idea of the perfect day.

An unfamiliar voice pulls me out of my book trance. “Do you mind?” she asks, gesturing to the empty space on the couch beside me.

“Oh, uh — no of course not. Please, go ahead.” I try to keep my facial expressions calm and intact, hiding the fact that small talk makes me cringe. I don’t have any girlfriends, other than those at work and even then, I don’t spend time with them outside of ‘work things’. So naturally, I’m dreading the possibility of ‘girlie talk’.

It’s not that I don’t want to have girlfriends, I just haven’t ever had one; not a real one anyway. What do I talk to her about? The little voice in my head laughs at me, she isn’t an alien Kins.

Growing up with an older brother, I was always surrounded by boys. Then once Kyle passed away, Jesse stepped into the protective older brother and best friend role. We did everything together. Sure, I had other people come and go, but they weren’t the type of friends you had sleepovers with or talked to about your schoolyard crush.

Regardless, I slip a smile onto my face. I can do this.

“What are you reading?” she asks, eyeing my book as I finish off my muffin.

I pass my book over to her. “It’s a contemporary romance by a small indie author who I love. Do you read too?”

She laughs and proceeds to pull an identical book out of her handbag. “I do.” We lock eyes and my smile turns genuine, maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.

We fall into a natural conversation and all the tension I was feeling slips away. The girl who is now sitting next to me rather than on the other end of the couch, has short black hair, in one of those wavy bob styles; it’s stunning. I learn a lot about her in the time we are chatting. We did the ‘get to know you’ small talk before talking about books.